The Shadow - 210 - The Devil's Paymaster by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-11-01T00:02:18+00:00

The Shadow made a great stir in unpacking his luggage. He noted that there

was a connecting door between his room and Woodstock’s. It was locked, of course, but there was no key in the keyhole.

Tiptoeing to the barrier, The Shadow knelt noiselessly and applied his eye

to the small opening.

He found himself staring at the frightened face of Flasher Brown!

He was well disguised as Woodstock, but The Shadow had no difficulty in identifying him. The crook was so fond of his jewelry, that he had continued wearing it in spite of his new role as a quiet invalid. He was wearing his big stickpin and the ring with the huge diamond.

He seemed suspicious of the sudden silence in Cranston’s room. A gun slid suddenly from his pocket. Gripping it nervously, Flasher tried to peer through the keyhole of the connecting door.

He saw nothing. The Shadow had dropped his hat over the knob.

There was a faint oath, then silence. The Shadow guessed what would happen

next. He prepared for it. Presently, there came a knock at the hall door.

When Cranston opened it, Woodstock was outside. He introduced himself, and

Cranston invited him in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you in your unpacking,” Woodstock declared, “but I’m an invalid. I come here every year for rest. Noise bothers me. I just wanted to ask you to be as quiet as possible.”

Cranston’s reply was apologetic and polite.

“Thank you,” Woodstock murmured.

His glance veered toward the connecting door. The Shadow knew why.

Woodstock was trying to find out why he had been unable to see through the keyhole. A shrewd crook, he suspected what had actually happened - that Cranston had hung a hat over the knob.

But there was no hat there now. A wad of paper was stuffed in the keyhole.

Woodstock didn’t know how long the plug had been there. He had never had occasion before to peer into the adjoining room. He assumed what The Shadow intended him to think - that the keyhole had been plugged by some guest a long time ago.

WOODSTOCK withdrew after inviting Cranston to accompany him downstairs to the taproom.

“I drink three glasses of stout daily,” he said in his feeble tones. “My doctor advises it. It’s wonderful stuff. Are you sure you wouldn’t care to join

me?”

Cranston declined. He said he was tired after his automobile trip from New

York.

Woodstock went slowly down the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane. He disappeared into the taproom. A moment later, Clyde Burke vanished in the same direction.

The Shadow completed his unpacking. He had barely finished, when the telephone in his room rang.

The clerk was phoning from down stairs. His voice sounded bored. But to The Shadow, his message was an electrifying one.

“A gentleman is here to see you, sir. His name is Daniel Judson. Shall I tell him to come up?”

Daniel Judson! The eccentric inventor against whom The Shadow was convinced the whole strange intrigue of Mr. Remorse was aimed! How did Judson know that Cranston was here? And why was he calling?

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