Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 133 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XI. THE CROSSED TRAIL

IT was seven o'clock in New York. Dusk had brought early darkness. Agents of The Shadow were out to regain their lost trail. They were supported by their chief himself.

For The Shadow wanted trace of Badger Grifflin; and while Cliff and Hawkeye visited places where the missing man might be, The Shadow was also roaming the confines of the underworld.

A human chameleon, The Shadow could suit himself to any locale. On lighted streets, he appeared as a well-dressed stroller; not too conspicuous, but well enough attired to be welcomed in such places as Carraway's gambling house.

In dingier districts, where dives invited hoodlums, The Shadow traveled in sweatered guise, passing as a rowdy tough enough to gain entree into any hangout.

Where dark, secluded alleyways were concerned, The Shadow used his guise of black. A living wraith, he covered a wide area, his very presence unseen and unsuspected.

For these transformations, The Shadow utilized a movable base. While he stalked the underworld, a taxicab cruised the fringes of the bad lands. Its sharp-faced driver passed up fares and scheduled his twisted route to reach required destinations at given intervals.

The cab driver was Moe Shrevnitz, as keen a hackie as any in Manhattan. His was an independent cab, uncontrolled by any company. Its actual owner was The Shadow.

In the back of the cab were all the articles that The Shadow required for his own tour of the underworld.

Disguise kits, garments, ready for each transformation.

Finishing each sector, in the garb that it demanded, The Shadow contacted Moe's cab at the next meeting place. A few minutes sufficed for him to change his guise; then emerge for the next stage of his unceasing search.

Compared to The Shadow's systematic methods, Cliff and Hawkeye were limited to minor parts. Cliff covered hangouts where he was known and welcomed. Hawkeye picked places where a prowler could come and go unmolested. Each was adding to The Shadow's coverage, although their chief was accomplishing more than both agents combined.

Luck could well play a part in the search for Badger Grifflin. The Shadow had counted upon chance; and it came. It was Hawkeye who first spotted Badger.

NOT far from the Bowery was a place called Mulley's Tavern. It had an upstairs bar, where small-fry hoodlums congregated. Crap games were frequent in corner tables; along the walls were bagatelle machines where players tried their skill and wagered bets among themselves.

Mulley, a brawny, shirt-sleeved proprietor, kept order; he was aided in this duty by a pair of big-fisted barkeeps. Little trouble ever occurred at Mulley's, for the riffraff who formed the clientele lacked toughness. That was explained by the fact that Mulley's attracted stool pigeons. Thugs who were wanted by the law stayed away.

Hawkeye visited Mulley's as a matter of routine. The little spotter gained a surprise the moment that he arrived in the upstairs joint. Standing at the bar was Badger Grifflin. The crook was chatting with Mulley.

Sidling to a table, Hawkeye watched. He saw Badger's protruding lip move in eager conversation.

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