The Shadow - 137 - Death Turrets by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1937-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

“No one visits that laboratory,” rasped Lenley. “That applies particularly to reporters.”

Cravlen showed good judgment. He let Lenley’s flare burn out; then, with an easy drawl, he suggested that Lenley calm himself.

“Burke hasn’t concerned himself with your invention,” the sheriff told Lenley. “He’s spent his time on other matters, down in Northridge. Just looking up some old records-“

The sheriff checked himself abruptly. George was eyeing him steadily.

Lenley’s gaze was full of suspicion. Clyde noted both expressions and realized that they were catching Cravlen’s slip. Clyde was relieved when Cravlen quickly covered the subject.

“Old facts about the town of Northridge,” said Cravlen. “Background stuff for the story he expects to write later. That was it, wasn’t it, Burke?”

Clyde nodded.

“I’ve got to have a good lead for my story,” he said. “You know, the old line. Mystery striking a peaceful, obscure community. I want to be ahead of the rest of the news-chasers when they get here.”

Both George and Lenley nodded, but Clyde wasn’t at all sure that either fully believed him. The sheriff watched them sharply, and looked doubtful also. One pair of eyes, however, took in everything, and seemed to penetrate to the thoughts behind all faces.

Those eyes were Allard’s.

No one was looking toward Kent Allard; hence nobody observed the keen glow that betokened the vision of The Shadow. Though he had not yet talked to Clyde since the reporter had delved into facts, The Shadow knew at once that Clyde had uncovered something.

With that knowledge, The Shadow gained a definite impression that the murderer also had some inkling of Clyde’s purpose here.

Sheriff Cravlen was quickly back to his former subject: the matter of Lenley’s invention. Cravlen’s tone was easy; he was handling Lenley as nicely as he had done with George.

“All I want to know is this,” insisted Cravlen. “Does your invention work? If it does, you have nothing to cover. If not, I’ll have to look into it further.”

“It works,” returned Lenley, testily, “but it doesn’t come up to specifications. I have the fuel and can turn it out cheaper than gasoline, but it’s short on results. That’s why I’m working on new formulas. You can come down to the laboratory, sheriff, provided you don’t bring this reporter.”

Cravlen agreed to have Clyde stay in the living room. Lenley invited both George and Allard to accompany him. George had been there before, and Lenley evidently considered Allard as a possible investor in the new motor fuel.

The laboratory was in a remote part of the cellar, distant enough to explain the sheriff’s failure to find it on the preceding night. It was located almost beneath the trophy room on the ground floor.

On the way, both George and Lenley apologized for their anger. They asked the sheriff a few more questions regarding Clyde Burke, but Cravlen put them off with brief replies.

IN the laboratory, Lenley pointed out long rows of bottles and a shelf of books that dealt with results of his chemical experiments. In a corner stood a mounted machine that was attached to a small gasoline motor.

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