Shadow 011 - Double Z 06-01-32, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Clyde made no motion. He sat at the table for a full minute without even glancing toward the door where the two men had gone. He was allowing sufficient time for them to leave the Club DeLuxe. His first action was to call for the waiter and pay the check.

Leisurely he strolled to the entrance. There was a telephone booth there, but he ignored it. Better to make his call outside.

The Club DeLuxe was located on the second floor. As Clyde was striding down the stairs he encountered one of those chance interruptions that so often play an important part in the best-laid schemes. Three men were coming up the steps. Clyde, swinging downward, accidentally stumbled against one and threw the man toward the wall. An angry response was the result.

“Sorry,” remarked Clyde.

“Yeah?” came the vicious retort.

Clyde found himself staring into the eyes of a tough-looking individual, evidently a gangster-habitue of the Club DeLuxe. The man had been drinking, but he was by no means incapable. He had apparently reached that early stage of drunkenness that produces pugnacity. The man reached forward and clutched Clyde by the shoulder.

“You know who I am?”

Clyde was intent on his errand. He sought to mollify the man, but as he began to speak the fellow became more violent. Despite a warning cry from one of his companions, he swung a quick blow at the reporter’s chin.

Clyde warded it aside. He thought quickly. A fight now would be unwise. The other men might side with their friend. At the same time, it was necessary to get away. As he parried the blow he made no effort to punch back. Instead he stepped back a pace, avoided a second swing, and started down the steps.

It was then that his opponent, angered at Clyde’s agility, threw himself forward.

Clyde could not avoid that plunge. He raised his hands in protection and lost his footing as he stepped backward. The weight of the man’s body landed upon him, and Clyde Burke was thrown headforemost down the steps. He felt a strange dizziness as he was hurtling downward; then his head struck against something and all was black.

He opened his eyes to see a group of faces peering at him. He recognized the features of the rowdy who had attacked him. This fellow, despite his tough appearance, seemed the most apprehensive member of the crowd.

“All right, buddy?” he asked.

Clyde nodded. Two other men propped him against the side of the wall. He noted that the cafe manager was present. That partly explained the change in his attacker’s attitude. Another reason was immediately put forward.

“You’re from the Classic, ain’t you?”

Clyde nodded again.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you. It was my fault, startin’ things,” came the apology. “You must ‘a’ tripped when I grabbed you. Wasn’t that what happened, boys?”

The fellow’s companions chimed their agreement. The manager of the Club DeLuxe spoke to Clyde.

“All right now?” he asked.

“All right,” said Clyde, rubbing a bump on the side of his head. “Say - how long have I been out?”

“Pretty near ten minutes.

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