Crime at Seven Oaks 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: 1940-08-18T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI. MOVES AT MIDNIGHT

THAT Clint Flenn would keep posted on events in Northdale was a foregone conclusion to The Shadow.

Obviously, the crooks had planned their ambush the night before; therefore, they must have found out that Janice and Thayner were going to Cherry Tree Inn. It was probable, therefore, that Clint had somehow inspired the trip in question.

If Clint could learn what was going on at Seven Oaks, he could keep tabs on Northdale quite as easily. His band of outlaws were an assorted lot, and The Shadow had not seen all their faces.

To pick Clint's spy from the many strangers who came to town at Saturday afternoon was a task that The Shadow considered futile, particularly since he was banking on something else. The Shadow, therefore, simply spent the day in his hotel room, in accord with Dr. Heverly's advice.

It was near dusk when a car crept up a wooded road among the distant-hills, took to a turnout and followed a stream bed to a forest nook, where other cars were parked.

The man who climbed out was Mouser; other mobbies greeted their returning pal, and conducted him up a steep path to a ledge.

There was a crevice in the rocks: the entrance to Rocky Cave, where the sheriff had searched for the missing crooks while they were hiding out at Kendry's. Entering, Mouser found Clint Flenn in a rough-hewn cavern, surrounded by members of the mobster crew.

Kerosene lanterns provided illumination, but when Mouser handed Clint a copy of the Northdale newspaper, the leader carried it to a corner of the cave. There, a thin shaft of fading daylight penetrated from a higher crevice, much smaller than the normal entrance.

In fact, the upper slit was so narrow, that a man would have had trouble squeezing through. That fact, plus an eighteen-foot drop to the cave floor, rendered it useless.

Clint had his men keep a check on the crevice when they patrolled outside, but he regarded it as nothing more than a speaking tube, and the space below it served as a reading room, during daytime.

Holding the newspaper under the streak of daylight, Clint chuckled over the accounts of Kendry's death.

The light was fading as he finished reading it. Clint shoved the paper in his pocket and turned to the crew.

"The dame plowed Kendry under," he chuckled. "That got rid of him, and it's put her in a jam. Say - if she and Thayner told their story now, the sheriff would call it an alibi! A phony one, too!"

Inasmuch as Clint specialized in making phony alibis seem real, his pals agreed that he could tell when the case was the other way about. Their guffaws echoed loudly through the cavern, until Clint gave a sudden growl for silence.

"Maybe that's not so good," he argued. "If they put the arm on the doll, on a manslaughter charge, we'll have a long wait before we can snatch her. Say - I'd like to yank that evidence out of the sheriff's office before they get to work on it!

"We could sell it to old man Melridge, as part of the ransom deal.

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