The Shadow 145 The Golden Pagoda by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1938-03-21T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XII

THE WAY OF LI HOANG

IT was a far stretch from Chinatown’s tumult to the quiet suburban district where Lucius Zallock lived. Anyone could make it in a forty-minute trip by car; but it was more than mere distance that separated the two points.

Chinatown was like a patch of the Orient, filled with danger and intrigue.

Zallock’s suburb was a highly civilized spot, where law and order seemed to dominate.

An hour had passed since battle had struck in Chinatown; but news of that strife had not yet trickled to Zallock’s haven. There was nothing surprising in

that fact. Neither The Shadow nor the law had linked the affairs of Li Hoang with those of Lucius Zallock.

Spacious grounds surrounded Zallock’s mansion. Broad lawns were quiet, streaked with darkness. The house itself was serene; its lighted windows, widely spaced, spoke of calm. Despite those outward signs, the mansion was actually a citadel.

Clumps of shrubbery hid watchful men: Zallock’s own trusted servants.

Other guards were posted in the recesses of the porch. No one could approach that house without observation, except by utilizing the utmost stealth. Lucius Zallock was taking no chances; he feared a thrust from Li Hoang.

A caravan of cars came rolling into the big drive. There were three in all: a limousine between two light coupes. The automobiles were recognized.

Men

rose from the shrubbery to signal that all was well.

Lucius Zallock stepped from the limousine. The coupes, chauffeured by picked men, continued to the garage. The limousine followed them. Zallock always traveled in this fashion when he went to visit friends in Manhattan. He felt that his limousine was safe, when it was protected by a convoy.

Inside the mansion, other servants stood on watch, while Zallock met a slender, wan-faced man who served as his confidential secretary.

“What news, Shamp?” demanded the business magnate. Then, in an undertone:

“Has Kevin called up?”

“He did a while ago, sir,” replied Shamp. “He said he would come out here later.”

“Something important?”

“I think so.”

Zallock started upstairs; Shamp followed. They entered a little study at the rear of a second floor hall. Zallock was about to close the door, when he raised his hand in nervous fashion, spoke the one word:

“Listen!”

Shamp listened. Like Zallock, he heard the unmistakable rumble of a car coming into the front driveway. Shamp analyzed the sound.

“It’s probably a taxi,” he said. “Shall I go downstairs and meet the visitor?”

Zallock nodded. Shamp went downstairs, arriving there just as the doorbell

rang. A servant opened the door; a stooped man entered. With one hand, he was leaning on a cane; in the other, he carried a large oblong box with a leather handle.

Shamp received the visitor mildly. Through the open front door the secretary could see men risen from the bushes, ready to spring to aid if Shamp signaled.

THE visitor announced himself as Eric Bardsley. Hearing the name, Shamp recognized the inventor from Zallock’s descriptions. Politely, he invited Bardsley to wait downstairs.

Zallock was waiting at the door of the study. He gave a smile that was both relieved and pleased.

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