The Getaway Ring by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-02-18T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII. CRIME MOVES ANEW

LAMONT CRANSTON was quite irked, apparently for good reason. Things had gone very badly in Mann's office a few nights before. The police had nearly bagged a redoubtable crook named Clicker Lordon, but they hadn't saved Cranston's bonds.

Returning to Mann's after their pursuit of Clicker, they had found Cranston's box in the safe, but it was empty. Somehow, Clicker must have managed to grab the contents. It was commonly believed that the smart crook had doubled back, to complete his robbery.

Talking with Commissioner Weston, at the Cobalt Club, Cranston did not mention that the box had been empty all along, a fact that only he and Mann knew. Instead, he went the limit in criticizing his friend Weston, even to the point of departing from his usual calm and indulging in ugly sarcasm.

Cranston's mood was quite plain to Garret Fenmore and Joe Cardona, who were silent witnesses of the outburst.

"You stationed a man to watch that office!" vociferated Cranston. "Very well, why didn't he stay there? Other robberies may have been excusable; not this one. Moreover, I lost more than my bonds. Because of your positive assurance that I would be protected. I placed cash in that box, as well. It's gone, too."

"How much was it, Cranston?" asked Weston.

"Twenty or thirty thousand dollars," returned The Shadow, with an indifferent gesture. "It isn't the money that counts, Commissioner. What hurts me, is the way you let me down."

"Do you have the numbers of the bills?" queried Weston, earnestly. "Can you tell me what denominations they were?"

Cranston's answer began with a contemptuous snort.

"Why should I copy numbers from bills?" he demanded. "it was new money, fresh from the bank - that's all I know about it. The denominations were large - five-hundreds and thousands, mostly."

"The bank might have a list of them."

"It hasn't. I've already asked."

Cranston was about to leave. Weston tried to mollify him by promising that the law would do its utmost to aid him. But Cranston wasn't to be mollified.

"I've turned the case over to the F.B.I.," he said, in parting. "By the way, they claim that Clicker Lordon was killed out in Chicago, a month or more ago."

"They're wrong!" exclaimed Weston. "Positively wrong, Cranston!"

"Why don't you tell them so?" was Cranston's final jab. "Only, first, commissioner, I'd advise you to read some back numbers of the newspapers."

Outside the Cobalt Club, The Shadow relaxed as he entered his limousine. As Cranston, he had actually contacted the Feds, according to his statement. But it happened that the Feds, themselves, were no longer any too sure about Clicker Lordon. They were ready to believe that the Chicago crook might still be alive.

In fact, that was a general opinion held everywhere, including the underworld. What was more, Clicker's exploit had stirred up new interest in the badlands. The Getaway Ring business had waned somewhat after Cal Grosham ran into difficulties, but the ease with which Clicker Lordon had slipped the law was bound to drum new trade.

The grapevine

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