The Shadow, The Hawk and the Skull by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-12-18T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII. THE WAY OF THE HAWK

THERE were only a few people in Tronden's auction gallery when Lenore Meldon arrived there. Entering boldly, the girl gave a straight glance toward two men who were obviously headquarters detectives, detailed to guard the auction. She hadn't the slightest fear that they would take her for the mystery woman who was wanted along with the Hawk and the Skull.

Lenore was her fluffy self this evening, and the bright lights of the auction room gave her the blond appearance which was so useful when she came before the public eye. But Lenore found it difficult to repress a shudder when she reached a little passage at the rear of the auction room.

It was the route to Tronden's office, and it was dark. A little stairway led to the office, while a closed door marked another flight to a storeroom above the auction gallery. An excellent lurking spot, behind that door, if the Hawk had shown the foresight to come here first!

Then the darkness itself reassured Lenore. Darkness signified The Shadow. Confident that her black-cloaked friend was somewhere on the premises, Lenore suppressed her qualms and made a dignified entrance into Tronden's office.

The auctioneer was an elderly man, with shocky hair and owlish eyes that peered through thick, old-fashioned glasses. He looked as if he belonged to the place, rather than it belonging to him, which was almost the case, for Tronden had been doing business here for nearly forty years.

His office was shaped like a cubicle, with barred windows, and a metal-sheathed door in the far corner; but Lenore noticed an alcove, half hidden by an antique screen, near the other rear corner. She took it that if the alcove also had a window, it must be barred, like the others.

In a sense, Tronden's office was a miniature fortress, except for the door through which Lenore had entered. But Tronden did not have to worry about that door, since it could only be reached through the auction gallery, which, in itself, was amply protected.

Of course, there was a safe, a good-sized one, in back of Tronden's desk. The auctioneer used it to harbor his stock of jewels, but the safe was so old that Lenore smilingly wondered if the office had been built around it.

She didn't know much about safes, but this one struck her as strong enough to keep out moths, and not much else. Still, she understood why Tronden had never bought a new safe. He had simply fortified the office, instead.

Tronden's pursed lips formed a smile, when he saw Lenore; but behind it, the girl could see a trace of puzzlement. Half rising, the man invited her to be seated; then he expressed what was on his mind.

"Regarding the Windham coronet, Miss Meldon," he said. "Until today, I did not suppose that anyone knew that such a valuable piece was in my custody. I had made a point of never mentioning the fact, nor did I intend to do so.

"I was out of town today, and did not expect to return until much later.

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