The Embassy Murders 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: 1934-01-17T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI. ROCHELLE RESPONDS

DARVIN ROCHELLE was seated behind his huge, flat-topped mahogany desk. His lips were firmly set. His gaze was harsh as his eyes turned toward the man who was sitting close to the huge globe of the world.

Rochelle's companion was Maurice Twindell. The habitue of the Club Rivoli was attired in a business suit; he still retained the debonair manner that was characteristic when he appeared in evening clothes.

"We have met with difficulty, Maurice," observed Rochelle. "The final goal was within attainment, until that trouble struck on the speedway."

"I didn't think Bugs Ritler would fail you," remarked Twindell glumly. "It was a set-up - to kill Lito Carraza and get his papers. I don't see yet how Bugs missed out."

"I have the explanation," asserted Rochelle. "Bugs managed to escape. That is fortunate. He reported back to Whistler Ingliss - in Agro - and told him what had happened. Bugs knows who it was that broke up his mob so swiftly."

"Another crew of gangsters?"

"No. A lone fighter, Maurice. The one whom all mobsmen fear. The Shadow."

Twindell showed signs of bewilderment mixed with apprehension. Rochelle smiled.

"The Shadow, Maurice," explained the man with the limp, "is a power unto himself. His usual habitat is New York City, but he has frequently been encountered elsewhere. His pastime is to fight whole gangs; to down them single-handed. He has been despicably successful. That is why I state again that Bugs Ritler was lucky to escape."

"You mean," interjected Twindell, "that this one man mopped up a whole crew?"

"I did not say one man," returned Rochelle. "I said The Shadow. He is more than a man, Maurice. He is a phantom of the night. A ghost that comes to life. For months, my schemes have been marked by steady success. Months narrowed to days; days to hours; hours to minutes. Then, when seconds only lay between me and the culmination of my scheme, The Shadow intervened!"

"To destroy your plans?"

"To balk them. From now on, Maurice, my old methods will be useless. Had we trapped Lito Carraza, I would have needed nothing more. Now, however -"

The telephone bell interrupted. Rochelle picked up the instrument and spoke. He changed from English into Agro.

"Kye kye zo kire?" he questioned. "Kye zay voso... Voso voso... Bole zee thone... Fee. Thone thone... Bole vake eef... Alk beeta bole reen kye zee sovo... Fee. Rema."

Rochelle hung up the receiver. He turned to Maurice Twindell.

THE young man seemed to understand the reason for the annoyed expression which was on Rochelle's face. Agro was plain to Twindell. But he had heard only one end of the conversation.

"Whistler Ingliss," remarked Rochelle. "He tells me that secret-service operatives were at his place last night. You heard my answer. I told him to be very careful. Things are bad, but I promised to let him know when all is well."

"With the operatives covering," observed Twindell, "it's a cinch you can't make a move from the Club Rivoli."

"Operatives?" Rochelle spat the question. "Bah! If another man should

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