The City of Doom by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
ISBN: 9781932806731
Google: UkKiPQAACAAJ
Amazon: 1932806733
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1936-05-15T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII. DEATH'S TRAIL

THE room where The Shadow had confronted Wishart was the workshop of Chadron's garage. The room was equipped with benches and tables; tools lay strewn about, except in the nearest corner which was bare only for a battered table that supported the telephone.

The Shadow had entered by the only door. The opposite wall was blank; but far to one side was a wide, opened window, which might have served Wishart as an emergency exit had the chauffeur expected this encounter.

The room was illuminated by a single brilliant light bulb that hung from the ceiling. The glare upon Wishart's face showed the man's features more plainly than had daylight. Previously, The Shadow had noted a certain shrewdness in the chauffeur's expression. That glossy look had changed.

Eyes beady, lips drawn, Wishart resembled a human rat. Cornered, he squirmed; his hands seemed itchy for action, yet all the while he showed a preference for flight. Once his tenseness had ended, Wishart snarled. He made a sudden shift in the direction of the window. As The Shadow blocked him with a quick stride, Wishart darted a look toward the door.

The Shadow had picked a midway position. He was ready to seize the chauffeur, no matter which way the fellow turned. Wishart backed toward the corner where the telephone stood. Almost there, he sprang to a workbench and snatched up a huge monkey wrench. With livid face, he swung his arms blindly in The Shadow's direction.

A gripping hand caught the chauffeur's arm, stopping the drive of the heavy monkey wrench. An elbow jabbed a back-arm stroke, upward to Wishart's chin. Catching the man just above the neck, that short blow crippled him.

Wishart gurgled; staggered backward against the table in the corner. He lost his hold on the wrench; a twist of The Shadow's hand dropped Wishart to his hands and knees.

The rat-faced chauffeur turned yellow.

"I'll - I'll talk!" he gulped. "Don't sock me! I'll spill it all - about the dirty business! All about -"

Wishart stopped short, trying to hold back a name.

"Doctor Mocquino!"

It was The Shadow who supplied the name of the Voodoo Master. Wishart stared; his eyes blinked. He did not recognize the name. The Shadow gave another:

"Herbert Prensham!"

Wishart nodded. In gulping tones, he talked.

"THAT'S him!" asserted the chauffeur. "The guy that had the apartment down in Hampstead. Herbert Prensham - but it's not his own moniker. I don't know him by any other, though. I'm giving that straight!"

The Shadow's eyes were steady upon the kneeling chauffeur. Wishart recognized that further talk might help him. In hurried phrases, the chauffeur gave his confession.

"He called me up, Prensham did. About a week ago." Nervously, Wishart tried to tell his whole story at once. "Said he knew Mr. Chadron. Wanted to see me. I went down there. Prensham let it out that he was a big-shot. Knew a lot about me, he did. About my doing time once, in a State penitentiary. Something that Mr. Chadron didn't know.

"Prensham wanted me to get a car for him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.