The Shadow 019 The Romanoff Jewels by Maxwell Grant

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

He produced a flashlight and turned it into the interior. There, half on the floor, half on the seat, lay a tall sprawled figure, whose face was turned toward the far side of the car.

“It is the one they were seeking!”

Gregori’s exclamation ended abruptly as a warning hiss came from Motkin.

“Say nothing!” ordered the official, in a low growl. “Stay here. I shall send Prensky to help you bring him into the house.

“He is still alive”—Motkin was bending over the still form—”and I may have need of him. Bring the hat and the cloak also. Above all, say nothing. Do you understand?”

Gregori nodded in obedience.

Motkin strode up the steps of the house and entered. He encountered his aid, Prensky, just within the door. He spoke short, terse words of explanation. Prensky understood and went to join Gregori.

Motkin reached an upstairs room, and slumped into an easy-chair. His face was an enigma. It showed traces of both worry and satisfaction.

Despite his vigilance, Ivan Motkin had failed in his protection of the secret vault. The strong-room had been rifled. That might mean death for Ivan Motkin. But death might also be withheld until he had been given a chance to redeem himself.

Motkin’s position was unique. He was one of very few who knew what had happened tonight. Working for the recovery of the stolen Bolshevist possessions, he would be more useful alive than he would be dead.

That, Motkin felt sure, would be the task assigned to him, especially as there would be no proof of negligence on his part. The one danger lay in other persons learning facts concerning the pillage of the vault. If Motkin, alone, could gain such information, he might find safety and success.

Squads of soldiers were still scouring the house where one had escaped. They would search until dawn—they might search longer. All efforts would be futile.

For Motkin, himself, held that very one. He, alone, could learn what might be known. The life of The Shadow had become very precious to Ivan Motkin!

CHAPTER XI. MOTKIN MEETS THE SHADOW

ANOTHER night had come to Moscow. The turmoil of the eventful evening when Senov had made his master stroke had long since been suppressed. Three days had passed since the raiders had pillaged the closely guarded vault.

Ivan Motkin was thinking of the subsequent events as he walked briskly along the street toward his residence. The perpetual scowl was on his face. Matters had gone both good and bad for Ivan Motkin.

His hunch that he would be ordered to recover all that had been stolen had proved correct. That very task had been assigned to him. But with complete power at his disposal, Ivan Motkin had not gained a single trace of the vanished wealth.

It was believed that the ring leaders—one at least—had escaped by airplane. Bolshevist troops had rounded up suspected Czarist agents. None had been captured alive; all had fought to the end.

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