Shadow 184 - The Masked Lady 10-15-01, 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 XII

AT THE HOSPITAL

HALF a dozen of Chuck Margle’s gorillas were in an eight-bed ward at the Northside Hospital. None of them looked very happy. A few were heavily bandaged, lying with their faces toward the wall. Others were propped on elbows, snarling their displeasure when Cardona and his two companions arrived.

The only man who offered anything that sounded like a welcome was Loco Shoyne, the thug who was willing to talk. Lying back upon a pillow, Loco was staring upward, gasping like a dying fish. His bulgy eyes and open mouth gave him an expression that suited the gasps.

Placing the package of undeveloped photographs on a table, Cardona sat down on one of the two empty cots. Telf chose the other, while Cranston stood beside the table. Apparently disinterested in Cardona’s quiz of Loco, The Shadow was looking over a list of the crippled thugs, that included a description of their injuries.

Never guessing that the calm-faced Cranston was actually the black-coated fighter who had sent them here, the snarling thugs concentrated upon Cardona, trying to interrupt Joe’s conversation with Loco Shoyne.

“I… want to talk!” panted Loco. “To you, Joe… about the guns. I can hear them… the guns. Listen… you can hear them, too. The guns -“

As Loco paused, one of his wounded pals gave a hoarse guffaw.

“You know why they call him Loco, don’t you?” sneered the thug. “Because he’s goofy, that’s why! But he goes to town when he gets started with a roscoe. That’s why Chuck hired him.”

“Yeah,” put in another. “Loco was in the War. The only trouble was, he got shell shocked. He’s O.K., until somebody lets a blast off too close to his ear. Then he goes screwy for a couple of days.”

Cardona resumed his quiz of Loco. The further he progressed with it, the more he decided that the other thugs were right. Loco mumbled something about a mask, but it turned out he meant a gas mask that he had worn in France. When Cardona asked him about the Masked Lady, Loco’s face went blank.

“Listen, Joe,” said a propped-up thug. “Why don’t you be nice and run along? It’s bad enough, listening to Loco fight the War all over, without having you around to put in a lot of screwy gab!”

Cardona turned to the thuggish spokesman, asked him what he knew about the Masked Lady.

“Nothing,” returned the fellow. “That’s on the level, Joe. We covered her getaway from the Scamper Club, like we did at Darra’s. We had another run-in with The Shadow, and this time we got ours. That’s all any of us know.”

In Cranston’s leisurely style, The Shadow was checking on the silent thugs who lay with their faces toward the wall. There was one that he didn’t identify, so he strolled over toward the man’s corner cot.

At that moment, Loco came upward with a shriek. A recent recollection had clicked in his befuddled brain.

“The Masked Lady!” he screeched. “I saw her, Joe! Don’t let her croak me!” Earnestly, he was clutching the lapels of Cardona’s cloak.

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