The Shadow 212 by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SWALLOWING the daiquiri, the Hawk carried the newspaper into the bedroom, where Clement began to help him with his tuxedo clothes.

It wasn’t easy for Clement, because his master was still trying to find some item about Tronden’s auction. When he did discover it, he gave an excited gesture that nearly snapped the suspenders which Clement was forcing over his shoulders.

“The Shadow’s work!” exclaimed the Hawk. “The cheekiest thing I ever heard of, Clement! Imagine it - the famous Windham coronet is going to be displayed, and actually offered for sale, at Tronden’s auction!”

Clement’s fat face showed amazement. Through service with the Hawk, he had learned much about diamonds and knew that the Windham coronet, valued at nearly half a million in present values, had no right to be shown in Tronden’s modest galleries. Clement finished his amazement with a splutter:

“It’s a trap… for you, sir -”

“Of course it is,” interposed the Hawk. Then, his eyes scanning the newspaper, he stopped short. “My word, Clement! I spoke of cheek; it was nothing compared to this. The Shadow has given himself away utterly. Who do you suppose is going to wear the coronet?”

“I can’t imagine, sir.”

“You don’t have to imagine, Clement. Read it: Miss Lenore Meldon!”

Clement didn’t believe it, until he had actually read the newspaper. The servant turned very nearly green with fright. He pleaded with his master to forget the coming auction, but the Hawk, his eyes glittery at thought of the Windham coronet, would not listen.

“You spoke about an early bird,” the Hawk reminded. “I’m going to be a very early bird. So early, that Lenore will never have a chance to point me out to her friend The Shadow. I’ve been to Tronden’s gallery, Clement. I know its ins and outs.

“The Shadow is playing this game two ways. Either as a come-on, or a scheme to scare me away from the auction entirely, to protect the other diamonds that will be displayed there. But I can steer a course right down the middle, Clement.”

Clement was not convinced. He shook his head.

“Too dangerous, sir,” he said. “You’ll find yourself between Charybdis and Scylla. I’ve alluded to them before, sir: the whirlpool and the rock that threatened Ulysses.”

“The chap they called the Ancient Mariner,” misquoted the Hawk. “Good enough, Clement. I’ll be a modern Ulysses. The Shadow won’t engulf me, and I won’t run aground when I meet Lenore.

“Fix my tie, Clement, so I can get started. Then dig deep into those books you like so much. You’ll need some more quotations and classical references to express your admiration for the Windham coronet, when I bring it home with me.”

His tie adjusted, his tuxedo jacket snugly on his shoulders, the Hawk tapped three pockets, coat, hip, and vest, to make sure that he had the items that he needed: blackjack, revolver, and a hawk’s feather.

Reminding Clement to call the cover-up men and have them post themselves outside the auction gallery, the Hawk strolled from his apartment.

The smirk that the lone

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