Shadow 178 - Death From Nowhere 07-15-39, 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

CHAPTER XI

CARDS ON THE TABLE

RAHMAN SINGH had looked into the future without the aid of a crystal ball. He had guessed why Silk Elredge was reaching for the telephone: to slip a signal to certain mobbies who served him. Silk made those calls craftily, when he wanted to be rid of troublesome visitors.

It seemed that Rahman Singh had either learned, or guessed, a great deal about Silk’s methods. With his gun drawn, the Hindu seemed quite confident. In fact, he stretched his dark hand to the corner of the desk and laid the weapon there.

Silk’s arms came down, then folded across his chest. The revolver was just close enough for Rahman Singh’s use, should the visitor need it; just too far away, in case Silk made a grab for it. Letting his smile fade, Rahman Singh remarked soberly:

“The gun is on the table. Why not lay our cards there, too?”

“It suits me,” decided Silk. “Let’s have your showdown first. What’s your right name, Hindu?”

“Rahman Singh,” replied the bearded man, coolly. “I am not the only bona fide Hindu in New York. As for these” - he gave a sweeping tug at his black whiskers - “look!”

The beard struck Silk as genuine, after that demonstration. As for his visitor’s nationality, Silk was remembering that New York had plenty of Chinese and others of Oriental origin, who talked plain English and behaved according to American custom.

It wasn’t odd that Rahman Singh should wear a turban and pose as a mystic, since many Orientals who ran curio shops garbed themselves in robes of their native land.

At present, Rahman Singh wasn’t decked up for his act. He was wearing a well-cut business suit, topped by a stylish overcoat, and his headgear was a dark felt hat.

“Suppose that we discuss our affairs,” suggested Rahman Singh, “only so far as the law is apt to interfere with them.”

“That’s Jake,” agreed Silk. “You’re on the lam, and I’m not. So let’s hear your troubles.”

“They are already known. Yours may be yet to come.”

“Yeah? What’s the gag?”

Rahman Singh stroked his beard; finally he gave a slow-worded reply to Silk’s question.

“According to a young lady named Louise Dreller,” he announced, “her brother Archie has lost heavily in your gambling establishment. So heavily that he was forced to make very special arrangements in order to square himself.”

“What sort of arrangements.”

“Miss Dreller did not know. But I suspect” - long brown fingers were plucking the black beard - “that they involved blackmail, with Adam Rendrew as the man who was supposed to pay.”

Silk shifted forward. Rahman Singh clutched the gun. With a shrug, Silk settled back and demanded:

“How would anyone have shaken down old Rendrew?”

“Very simply,” returned Rahman Singh, in a cold, steady tone - “by threatening to impart certain information to his nephew, Dwight Kelden; facts regarding a swindle that Rendrew once managed.”

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