The Shadow 118 Fox Hound by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1936-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

THE JUNK YARD

A THIN young man in cheap and rumpled clothes was begging on the sidewalk in front of the pretentious town house of Alonzo Kelsea. He made no move to leave the neighborhood. Nor did he stray very far from the entrance to Alonzo Kelsea’s home.

Clyde Burke had been watching this young man for nearly ten minutes.

Hidden by the stone overhang of a near-by doorway, he had noticed the beggar’s interest in the house of the famous criminal lawyer. Kelsea’s limousine was parked at the curb and Clyde noticed this, too.

The hand of the beggar kept moving nervously toward a ragged pocket of his coat. Clyde caught a glimpse of what looked like the corner of an envelope.

Kelsea came hurrying out of his home.

Abruptly, the beggar started forward. So did Clyde Burke. Out of his doorway with one swift stride, he began to approach the two men who now were converging near the parked automobile at the curb.

Their backs were to Clyde. He heard the beggar say something in a low voice and extend a plain white envelope to the lawyer. Kelsea reached for it.

The next instant, Clyde had snatched it from Kelsea’s pudgy hand and was racing at top speed down the avenue and around the corner.

“Help! Stop thief!”

The quiet street was shrill with the cries of Alonzo Kelsea. He raced at top speed after the fleeing figure of Clyde, and so did the young man in the shabby clothes.

But Clyde knew the neighborhood. While waiting in the doorway, he had formulated his plan of escape. Rounding the corner like a deer, he crossed the side street diagonally and vaulted a wooden fence in the rear of a row of two-story frame buildings.

Clyde’s only thought now was to get rid of the note unseen. Ducking through a hole in another fence, he flitted swiftly down a narrow alley. He could hear the thudding feet of his pursuers as he rounded a turn, sped past a heap of rubbish and approached the alley entrance to the next street.

There were three empty ash cans standing a few feet from the sidewalk beyond. Clyde halted briefly, raised the middle can, shoved the flat envelope beneath its bottom. His left hand jerked a fountain pen from his pocket. With a swift dart of his wrist he sent a blob of ink splashing against the side of the can he had selected for his emergency hiding place.

The thing was done almost in the flash of an eye. Clyde gained the street before his pursuers came in sight. He slowed his pace immediately to a walk.

He

braced himself for an unpleasant scene, and it came without delay. A hand caught him by the arm, spinning him around.

IT was the thin young man. Behind him, puffing from his recent exertion, was Kelsea. But worse still, a uniformed policeman was at Kelsea’s side.

“That’s him!” the lawyer shouted. “He’s a thief! He stole a very valuable paper from me!”

Clyde Burke grinned with sudden relief as he saw the face of the policeman.

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