The Shadow 077 by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

BACK at the rowboat, Harry and Rex pushed off and began a slow, cautious trip along toward the lake shore. They whispered as they progressed.

“They’ve come here with a lot of mobsters,” informed Rex. “They’ve figured what we’d be doing. They must be parked somewhere in the woods, those rogues and their crew. There’s enough of them to attack us.”

“But they’re passing the buck,” commented Harry, wisely. “They figure Old Absalom as a better bet.”

“Why? Because the guy’s goofy?”

“Sure! He’d take the rap. We’d be in wrong for trespassing on his island.”

“And that would leave Jubal and his outfit in the clear.”

“That’s just it. But it leaves us safe for a while, anyway.”

“Until we visit Old Absalom.”

“No; it leaves us safe until they begin to wonder why we haven’t come to see the hermit. We have three or four days to go. But I wouldn’t like to bump into that crew in the dark.”

“Neither would I. Do you think it will be safe up at the shack?”

“Safer there than anywhere else, Rex. Those thugs will stay away until Old Absalom gets his whack. We’ll lie low tonight and talk it over.”

“Maybe we could bribe old whiskers ourselves.”

“Possibly. We’ll talk about it.”

Rex rowed slowly onward. He knew that he and Harry were safe for the present. Jubal, Firth and their men had obviously departed across the lake.

But as he rowed, Rex kept his eyes on that isle that they had visited. He was picturing old Absalom, in his cabin, counting the blood money.

Rex was correct in his picture. Back in the crude building, the hermit was stacking silver in little piles. He had been given more than a hundred dollars - a sum which Jubal had figured as plenty for an advance.

His counting finished, Old Absalom chuckled. With a short laugh, the bearded man found a loose board in a floor by the corner. He picked up the coins, jingled them, and added the stacks to a smaller hoard that he had beneath the floor.

There was something cagey in the bearded man’s action. His smile showed broad in his matted beard as he turned back into the light. His chuckle was a satisfied gloat; not the wild chortle of a madman.

There were eyes that saw Old Absalom’s face; ears that heard the hermit’s outburst. A new prowler had arrived at the window of the cabin. This personage had arrived just after the departure of Jubal’s crew.

The Shadow was on Old Absalom’s isle. His divining eye discerned much that was of import. For brief moments, The Shadow paused outside the window; then turned and moved off through the trees.

The Shadow reached a small cove, midway between the opposite landing spots. His tall shape stepped aboard a low, dark canoe. His hidden lips phrased a whispered laugh that faded soft and eerie among the sheltering trees.

The Shadow had guessed the game that was afoot. Unseen, his very presence unsuspected by the foe, he was prepared for crime that was to come.

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