Shadow 199 - The Scent of Death 06-01-40, 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

CLUTCHING all those prizes, The Shadow rolled from the car, fell across Morry’s body. The jolt brought him a new train of thought. His lips repeated a name: “Gordy.”

Mechanically, The Shadow probed through Morry’s pockets, found odds and ends that he shoved into the pockets of his own trousers. He rejected a revolver that he did not need but, as he groped, he kept saying that there was something else to find.

The Shadow chanced on it at last, in the dead crook’s vest pocket. Fingers opening in the moonlight, The Shadow saw the token that Morry had shown to Koko. It was a gold carnation, of the smaller variety, the sort that Kreft wore in his buttonhole.

Clutching the little golden flower, The Shadow stumbled away from the wrecked car. He took the only course the ravine offered, the bed of the shallow creek. Floundering over rocks, The Shadow sprawled in the water; not once, but often.

Each spill revived him somewhat; but when he clutched his guns, his cloak and hat, he lost the evidence that he had brought from Marr’s.

A few at a time, large golden carnations left The Shadow’s hands and floated down the stream ahead of him. One flower, though, was constantly in his clutch.

It was the tiny coin-sized flower that The Shadow had found in Morry’s pocket.

The Shadow was following the creek downstream because the course was easier. His coat, ripped half from his shoulders, was bothering him. He realized that he didn’t want it, for the pockets carried papers that identified him as Cranston. The Shadow shook the coat off, let it fall into the stream.

He was repeating a name, time and again.

The name was Morry Cathlan. That was who The Shadow was. He could prove he was Morry Cathlan. His hip pockets carried the evidence.

And in his hand The Shadow held the tiny flower. The token that Morry had brought to show to Gordy!

The floundering journey must have covered half a mile before The Shadow came to low banks, where the creek deepened in between. There were large carnations floating slowly through that pool, drifting beneath a bridge, but The Shadow did not see them.

He found the bridge, managed to crawl up beside it. The Shadow was back on the road that followed the ravine. This was a place where it dipped, between widened cliffs, to cross the creek.

Steadier of gait, The Shadow moved along the road. There were times when it seemed to reel beneath his feet; always, it showed blackish gaps that faded as The Shadow approached them. He was looking for something, sure that he would recognize it.

At last, it came a dirt road that led away from the paving, through thick woods. The Shadow followed the ruts.

Blackness was thick beneath the trees. The Shadow’s stumbles were many, until the road widened. Glints of moonlight showed obscure buildings.

Making toward them, The Shadow staggered against a door. Dropping all burdens except the tiny flower, The Shadow let his free hand slide along the door.

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