Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 078 by The Third Skull

Author:The Third Skull [Skull, The Third]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-11-14T23:24:45+00:00

“A room that looked like a hideout. But there wasn’t anybody there.”

“All right. Stick here while I make a report.”

They had neared a cigar store on the Bowery. Hawkeye remained outside while Cliff went in to make a call to Burbank. Agents of The Shadow had again struck ill luck.

IN the reading room of the exclusive Cobalt Club, a rotund, chubby-faced man was reading an evening newspaper while he smoked a fat cigar. This individual was named Rutledge Mann. By profession, he was an investment broker.

Mann was pleased with his surroundings. He had been admitted to this swanky club through the recommendation of an important member - Lamont Cranston. Mann spent much of his leisure time here.

A smile showed on Mann’s chubby face as he noted an item in the newspaper. It was a dispatch from Philadelphia, stating that Professor Tyson Morth was delivering a speech in that city this evening.

Mann smiled because he had read a similar item in a Philadelphia morning newspaper, earlier this very day. The report in the Philadelphia journal had stated, in addition, that Professor Morth was leaving for New York directly after his dinner speech. That meant he would take a train at eight o’clock, arriving in New York before ten.

Mann had clipped that item from the Philadelphia newspaper. He had placed it in an envelope, had carried it to Twenty-third Street, and had left it in The Shadow’s post box. By this time, it had reached The Shadow.

Rutledge Mann had cause to smile. Action was not his forte; his was a passive part. But on this occasion, he was the only one of all The Shadow’s agents who had experienced no setback in the moves against impending crime.

CHAPTER XII. THE ROOM OF SKULLS

LISTED first among the names of old Hildrew Parchell’s associates had been Channing Tobold. Crooks had raided the pawnbroker’s shop; they had failed to get the wealth they sought. The silver skull ring had been a blind.

The Shadow had anticipated the criminal move; but he had been too late to stop the evil thrust. Chance had tricked The Shadow. Channing Tobold was dead. But tonight, The Shadow was playing for better luck.

Knowing that wealth was still missing, The Shadow had picked the name of Hildrew Parchell’s second associate. That was Professor Tyson Morth, the well-known anthropologist. The Shadow had sought for information concerning Professor Morth; he had learned that the man was out of town. Morth’s house was closed.

Then Mann had seen the item in the Philadelphia newspaper. Detail work was Mann’s business. He went through files of out-of-town journals every day. Mann had passed the word to The Shadow, who, in turn, saw every reason to believe that Morth would be home tonight.

With ten o’clock approaching, The Shadow was riding toward a destination. He was traveling as Lamont Cranston; he was lounging in the rear seat of a big limousine. The car was rolling southward on Seventh Avenue, toward the outskirts of Greenwich Village.

There was a radio in the limousine. The Shadow turned the knob.

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