The Shadow - 217 - Mansion of Crime by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1941-02-28T23:00:00+00:00

Oddly, the message was for Stan. He learned that a friend was waiting for him at the Beach Club; that the matter was urgent. About to depart, Stan turned questioningly to Thorndon.

“Since I’m a friend of the Prendles,” he demanded, “why do you suppose the message came here, the one place where I probably wouldn’t be?”

“They may have called there first,” smiled Thorndon. “You must not forget, however, that I really introduced you at the Beach Club. Of course, my call to the manager was strictly confidential, but he is one person who might expect you to be here.”

As he drove to the Beach Club, Stan’s thoughts turned to Jack. Perhaps Jack was clever, as Thorndon suggested. Playing the stooge while his father passed cash across the board to Marcia, was a neat game, but Stan was wondering what would happen to the money later. Perhaps Marcia passed it along to someone else, who would then deliver it to Jack—

No, the thing seemed too complicated. Stan preferred to accept Helene’s opinion: that Jack was simply urged by an immediate desire for cash, with little regard for the future. So analyzing, Stan arrived at the Beach Club.

ENTERING the lobby, Stan looked about, but no one hailed him. He went to the veranda, saw people that he knew, chatting there, among them Albert Carthwright. None of them seemed to be looking for Stan, so he went into the lounge, hoping that he might find the “friend” that Thorndon’s servant had mentioned.

The lounge proved a blank, and Stan was more puzzled than ever, when he suddenly remembered the telephone booths. He went there.

A man sidled from a booth to meet him. Stan stopped, frozen, as be stared at the dark, wise-featured visage of Roger Frack!

“What’s the trouble, Stan?” gibed Frack, in an undertone. “I’m no ghost. You act like you’d seen The Shadow.”

Shakily Stan darted a look toward the lobby. He saw several persons there, most of them strangers. One in particular, a man with calm, hawkish features, was comparatively close. He happened to be at the desk, arranging for a room.

Stan urged Frack deeper from sight and peered at the lobby again, waiting until the hawkish stranger had gone upstairs, accompanied by a bellboy, with his bags.

“Why did you come here?” Stan demanded, facing Frack. “You could have phoned me.”

“Not from where I am at present,” returned Frack coolly. “It might be traced. Besides, I’ve heard from the bigshot. He’s ready with the proposition.”

“I’m not sure that I want it, Frack.”

“As foolish as ever, aren’t you, Stan? Listen: You won’t have to do anything you wouldn’t want to do.

Nothing like robbery, or—”

“Or murder?”

Frack smiled away the reference that Stan inserted so sharply. Smooth as ever, the go-between continued:

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