Shadow 249 - The Five Ivory Boxes 07-01-42, 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

SLOWLY, the cloaked fighter was rising from the floor, just within the doorway. Noting the tilted position of the slouch hat, Clyde stared at the telephone in his hand and suddenly understood. That stroke delivered in the dark had felled a friend, not a foe!

Now it all cleared in Clyde’s horrified mind. Remembering the roar in his ears, he could identify the other sounds that had disturbed him. One sound, in particular: the tone of a sinister laugh.

The Shadow’s challenge, hurled at Clyde’s attacker - that was why the killer had flung Clyde aside. He’d gone after The Shadow, instead, and the cloaked fighter had gone to grips with him, only to have Clyde intervene - the wrong way!

Just to top off all his blunders, Clyde had felled The Shadow, and their mutual foeman had taken the opportunity to escape. The slam of the outer door had marked a departure, not another arrival!

As The Shadow steadied on his feet, he looked at Clyde and gave a sibilant laugh. Wavering slightly, the cloaked fighter stepped forward and took the telephone, as though to measure the cord. Then Clyde saw the reason for the telephone’s recoil.

It had reached the end of its cord when it struck The Shadow, and that, to some extent, had lessened the force of the swing. Otherwise, Clyde might still be trying to revive his chief.

A whispered laugh issued from The Shadow’s hidden lips. It brought a voice from the receiver:

“Burbank speaking.”

The Shadow spoke in turn; his whisper was steady. Finishing with Burbank, he turned to Clyde, but kept the phone in hand because Burbank was standing by. Clyde picked up where he had left off.

“Trevose found a parcel check,” Clyde explained. He threw a quick look at the clock. “He’s halfway to Grand Central by this time, maybe farther.”

The Shadow gestured to a phone book, and ordered:

“Find Trevose’s number and address.”

Clyde looked, but without result. Trevose’s number was unlisted. Then came Burbank’s voice from the receiver, giving the needed information. Among other items, Burbank kept a handy index of unlisted phone numbers. Trevose’s address was on Park Avenue, in the Thirties. It was no farther from Glenlake’s office than it was from Grand Central.

The Shadow told Burbank to try Trevose’s number. There was a short wait while Burbank put in the call. But he couldn’t get a reply.

Clyde couldn’t understand The Shadow’s purpose, until an odd fact dawned. It seemed that The Shadow wasn’t convinced that Clyde’s attacker was Trevose.

It must be that The Shadow was playing hunches. One hunch had brought him directly here from the Cobalt Club, and it had saved Clyde’s life, so it was little wonder that The Shadow was taking cognizance of another. In the dark, The Shadow hadn’t been able to identify Clyde’s attacker any more than had Clyde himself. Yet, there was logic in rejecting Trevose.

Not long ago, Wilbur Glenlake had fled, carrying a mysterious package, which had disappeared. Having located that package, Laird Trevose had set out to get it.

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