The Shadow - 309 - No Safety in Numbers by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1946-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

IX.

“WELL, it’s always darkest before dawn, I always say.”

“Yes, you do, Peebles, but must you say it so often?” Winthrop’s voice rasped at his secretary.

Peebles, looking wounded, faded into the background. Cranston smothered a grin. After all, it was unfair to pick on the fellow, it was like shooting birds on the ground, unsportsmanlike.

“Aside from this matter of the darkening dawn which Peebles insists on,” said Winthrop, “have you been able to think of anything to do, Lamont?”

“Ummm—there’s been a tiny bit of progress. But your side of it is what I’m interested in. What was the response to your broadcast yesterday?”

“Oh, simply overwhelming—overwhelming is the only word for—” Peebles relapsed into silence at his employer’s glare.

“Overwhelmingly indecisive, I’d say.” Winthrop was still glowering at the interruption. “The only phone calls that came into the station were from cranks. It’s too soon for mail, of course.”

Winthrop got to his feet and strode back and forth across the lovely oriental that covered the floor. He was again using the slip of paper with the number on it to gesticulate with, Cranston noticed.

“It gives me a feeling of being in handcuffs to have evidence like this,” he slapped the paper against his palm irritably, “and still be unable to do anything concrete! It’s exasperating. Like fighting under water!”

The word concrete reminded Cranston that Mrs. Bonds had seemingly recovered in pretty good style from her harrowing experience. Vincent had said she was sleeping comfortably.

He snapped his mind back to attention. Winthrop was saying, “What shall I do? Help me, Cranston. Any idea, no matter how wild, will be deeply appreciated.”

“Hey, Governor!” This was from Peebles, and his voice cracked with enthusiasm. “Gee, golly, boss. I have an idea!”

“Get it out fast before it dies of solitary confinement.”

Grinning sheepishly but not at all deflated, Peebles said, “Why don’t we offer a reward in the paper, say a thousand dollars, to everyone who turns in a number runner!” His voice put inverted brackets around the phrase number runner, like a minister self-consciously using a slang word.

“Give a reward to every one who—Good heavens, man, don’t you realize how many runners there are? I’d have to be a billionaire. Please, if you have any more brainy ideas like that, file them in the circular file.”

Cranston wondered how Winthrop could stand having the man around since he so obviously got on his superior’s nerves. But, perhaps, this was just because of the strain that Winthrop was under—What strain? Cranston decided to bring it out in the open. He knew of Winthrop’s mayoralty ambitions—but—

Cranston asked, “Just why are you so concerned over all this, Gerald? I knew you were public spirited and all that, your record shows ample proof—

“It’s no secret that I want to be mayor, Lamont. You know that—”

But how badly did he want the office?

“It’s more than that, of course, the governor wants—” Peebles paused significantly on the word “governor.”

“Peebles, letting you know anything in confidence is a better way of getting it circulated than using the personal columns of my own paper.

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