The Shadow - 19 - The Romanoff Jewels by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1932-11-30T23:00:00+00:00

“Say nothing,” growled Motkin. “Place trusted officers in charge. All the thieves have escaped but one. I have ordered that he be captured, alive, if possible. He must be brought to me.”

“You know the orders,” responded the other man, in a doubtful voice. “He must go to prison first, if he is taken. After that -“

Motkin turned pale as he saw his subordinate shrug his shoulders. Important though he was, Motkin was forced to conform to regulations.

Motkin was in a dilemma. One man was at large; if captured, he might give valuable information when quizzed by Motkin alone; but should he speak to others, his words might prove damaging.

The protection of the rifled stronghold had been Motkin’s duty. Well did the Bolshevist official know the punishment that was meted out to those who failed in their appointments.

“Remain here,” said Motkin. “Do all you can. I must go back. If the man is captured, let me know at once. If he is killed”—the speaker paused thoughtfully—”let me know that, also!”

At that moment, cries came from men standing by the armored car. Soldiers came running up with rifles to aim at a lower window where an officer was pointing. A tall, huddled figure had appeared in plain view!

Before the scurrying soldiers could aim at the unexpected target, a hand stretched from the window. The automatic was pointed directly at the searchlight.

The gun spoke. The light went out. Chaos reigned amid the darkness that was broken only by dim, flickering street lamps.

Officers were shouting out commands. Shots were being fired. Motkin scurried to the safety of the alley.

Wild minutes passed; then flashlights appeared, and suddenly a new but smaller glare lit up the house from which The Shadow had fired the unexpected shot. Several military automobiles had arrived upon the scene; and one of them had turned its searchlight on the building.

Fuming, Motkin strode to his car. He was followed by his underling. The man nodded as Motkin delivered final instructions. Then Motkin clambered into the front seat beside Gregori, and the car pulled away.

MOTKIN was grimly silent as the big automobile rolled through the streets of Moscow. The car reached a broad prospekt, turned into a narrow street, and shot into the courtyard of a pretentious residence. It stopped before a side door, the entrance to Motkin’s apartments.

The scowling official stepped from the car and started toward the steps. Then, as an afterthought, he returned and spoke to Gregori.

“The cloak and the hat,” he said. “Where did you put them?”

“In the back seat, as you told me.”

“Get them.”

Gregori opened the door. He leaned into the car, and stepped back suddenly with a startled cry.

“Look!” he exclaimed. “Look!”

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