The Shadow 221 The League of Death by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1941-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

“Call Estelle.”

To Muriel, it seemed ages before Estelle arrived. The maid started her toward the stairs at what seemed a snail’s pace. Looking back, Muriel tried to smile at the anxious faces of Tresher, Steve and her uncle Roswell. She thought she would never reach her room, and when she did, she watched Estelle close the door, moving it by inches.

Estelle helped her remove the riding habit, and Muriel wondered why it took so long. It seemed hours more before Muriel was finally undressed, and by then she was puzzled because the sun had not set.

While a nightgown was settling lazily over her shoulders, Muriel heard slow, clumping sounds from the stairway. They continued while she was drifting into bed, and finally Muriel heard steady but far-spaced knocks at the door.

The maid admitted Tresher. He left the door open, and Muriel saw Steve watching from the threshold.

She was more interested, though, in the curious way in which Estelle was picking up scattered clothes from the floor. Each time the maid stooped she went completely off balance, only to regain it by a tedious process of locomotion.

Tresher approached the bed, placed his hand upon Muriel’s forehead, and took her pulse. He ordered Estelle to lower the window shades and keep the room dark. Rejoining Steve, the medico closed the door and said in a professional manner:

“I was right. She received a slight concussion.”

“Don’t hand me that,” snapped Steve. “I know the slow-motion symptoms. She took the cigarette her uncle gave her and it was doped with marijuana!”

Tresher stared as if he had never heard the term before. Steve tightened his fists and thrust his jaw forward.

“I’m going to talk to Muriel.” he said. “I shall tell her nothing, so don’t worry. I know quite well why she must remain here. But if anything happens to her, Tresher”—Steve’s fist rose warningly and his tone hardened—”I swear I’ll kill you! What’s more”—Steve emphasized the afterthought—”you can tell old Arlingame that it goes for him, too!”

Tresher turned to the stairway. Opening Muriel’s door, Steve entered, wondering if this was the last time that he would see the girl he loved. Not because of danger to Muriel; he really felt that she was safe at Stony Lodge. Steve was wondering just how his own case would be decided after Tresher carried the word to Roswell Arlingame.

THERE was no need to worry for the present. In his study, Arlingame accepted Tresher’s report with a chuckle.

“So he threatened to kill you, Tresher,” gloated Arlingame, “and even intimated that he might add my scalp to his belt. Good! Such spirit pleases me. It proves that Stephen is really one of us.

“Since he wants to kill, we shall give him the opportunity. It will be easy to arouse him to a point of hate against a victim. Particularly since we shall appeal to his greed, and put the matter of Muriel’s future into the balance, if necessary.

“I am quite sure, Tresher, that Stephen will be the right man for our next job.

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