The Shadow 212 The Shadow, The Hawk and the Skull by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1940-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

The picture bore the name of Lamont Cranston. The Hawk avidly read the paragraph that went with it, and beckoned to Clement, after the servant had poured the cocktail.

“Listen to this, Clement!” exclaimed the Hawk. “That chap Cranston has left on an expedition to Brazil.

Smart of him, getting out of town immediately after establishing an alibi in the Cadwin murder!”

“If you had only done the same, sir -“

“The police don’t know my name,” interrupted the Hawk, testily. “A person is always safe, if the law does not know who he is or where he is. I have told you often that either is sufficient. I have an idea”—— the Hawk was staring at the photograph——”that Cranston thinks the same.”

“You mean that he hasn’t gone to Brazil, sir?”

“Exactly! It sounds like another alibi. A trip up the Amazon, a plunge into the jungle, where he will be out of reach for the next six months or more ——what a perfect opportunity to double back to New York and remain here, unsuspected!

“Mark my words, Clement, we shall hear of Mr. Cranston, or a man very much like him, before another week has passed. He will have to be reasonably careful, while supposed to be in Brazil. That is all.”

SWALLOWING the daiquiri, the Hawk carried the newspaper into the bedroom, where Clement began to help him with his tuxedo clothes.

It wasn’t easy for Clement, because his master was still trying to find some item about Tronden’s auction.

When he did discover it, he gave an excited gesture that nearly snapped the suspenders which Clement was forcing over his shoulders.

“The Shadow’s work!” exclaimed the Hawk. “The cheekiest thing I ever heard of, Clement! Imagine it——the famous Windham coronet is going to be displayed, and actually offered for sale, at Tronden’s auction!”

Clement’s fat face showed amazement. Through service with the Hawk, he had learned much about diamonds and knew that the Windham coronet, valued at nearly half a million in present values, had no right to be shown in Tronden’s modest galleries. Clement finished his amazement with a splutter:

“It’s a trap… for you, sir -“

“Of course it is,” interposed the Hawk. Then, his eyes scanning the newspaper, he stopped short. “My word, Clement! I spoke of cheek; it was nothing compared to this. The Shadow has given himself away utterly. Who do you suppose is going to wear the coronet?”

“I can’t imagine, sir.”

“You don’t have to imagine, Clement. Read it: Miss Lenore Meldon!”

Clement didn’t believe it, until he had actually read the newspaper. The servant turned very nearly green with fright. He pleaded with his master to forget the coming auction, but the Hawk, his eyes glittery at thought of the Windham coronet, would not listen.

“You spoke about an early bird,” the Hawk reminded. “I’m going to be a very early bird. So early, that Lenore will never have a chance to point me out to her friend The Shadow. I’ve been to Tronden’s gallery, Clement. I know its ins and outs.

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