The Shadow - 261 - The Museum Murders by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1942-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

“All right, let’s hear it,” said the light-haired man, quite firmly. “What you’re doing here and why? The whole truth and nothing else. I’m tired of all this mystery!”

Truth seemed as good as anything, so Harry fed it in a minor dose by stating that he belonged at Glenwood Grange. That brought a snort from Harry’s captor, who retorted that he knew as much already. He wanted to know what was going on in the Grange, to which Harry, with a lurking idea that this chap might be teamed with Croom, stated frankly that he was under obligation not to tell. The young man promptly tightened his gun grip.

“Come along, then,” he said. “We’ll talk to the sheriff. Unless you’d prefer the Feds, without a lot of wasted time between.”

Harry was puzzled.

“The Feds?”

“I saw that cash your friend was passing out,” the young man replied. “It’s all over town and it looks good enough to be real. Except that people don’t take over a house like the Grange and begin spending new money on a wholesale basis.”

At that, Harry really laughed. This chap was obviously sincere and he had it all so sure that Croom and Harry were a brace of counterfeiters.

“If I’m wrong, stop me,” the fellow said. “But I still will feel I’m right until I’ve heard a sound reason why you’re stopping at the Grange. Particularly” - he added this with emphasis - “when I already know that you’re contacting an outside crowd, who were here at Lower Glenwood a day before you arrived.”

By Lower Glenwood, the speaker meant the ruins. But the crowd to which he referred could only be Kip’s outfit. This was the sort of information Harry wanted for The Shadow. It would be worthwhile to feed out facts in return for more. Still, Harry was cagey.

“Tell me who you are,” he suggested. “Maybe you’re crooked like you think I am, but you don’t look that way, any more than I do.”

It was a good thrust, even with Harry’s present unkempt appearance. The young chap took it right to heart.

“I’m Phil Glenwood,” he declared soberly. “Last of the family and all that. Out of luck with the rest of them when my grandfather blew his fortune building the new house on the hill. But I didn’t blame the old man; his heart was really in it. I always wanted to buy back Glenwood Grange.

“Right now I can… or could. I’m worth a lot more money than you’d think. Just a run-of-the-mill success.

Went into chemical research because I liked it, and came through with some formulas the big companies liked even better. I found a new explosive, enough of it to blow me out of the lab and into a fortune.

“What it’s made from is classed as a government secret at present. The main thing is, I’m still alive and in the money. I came to Wilbury hoping to buy Glenwood Grange and keep it as is, except for the gym my grandfather didn’t finish.

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