The Shadow - 97 - The Voodoo Master by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1936-02-29T23:01:40+00:00

It was Hawkeye; as he approached the standing figure of The Shadow, the little spotter looked like a typical bum seen on a side street near Times Square.

With a panhandler’s whine, Hawkeye asked for a dime. This was for the benefit of passers-by. They shied away, figuring that they would be touched if the bum failed to receive money. They saw a sour look on the features of James Rettigue. Hawkeye was grinning, while The Shadow fumbled for a coin. With a wary dart of his eyes, Hawkeye saw a chance to speak.

“Rathcourt is in,” he whispered. “Cliff spotted him in the lobby. Slipped the news to me when I was touching him for two bits.”

The Shadow passed coins to Hawkeye.

“Got in at eight,” he added. “No messages for him. Nobody’s been about. Cliff is gone.”

“Off duty.”

As he heard The Shadow’s whisper, Hawkeye mumbled thanks for the money. Jingling the coins, the spotter slouched away, looking back and forth as if fearful that some policeman had seen him make the touch.

THE SHADOW strolled into the lobby of the Delbar. He approached the desk, announced himself as James Rettigue and asked for Elridge Rathcourt. The clerk put in a call to the penthouse, then nodded. It was all right for the visitor to go up.

While ascending in the elevator, The Shadow’s lips formed a sour smile that well-fitted the rather cynical character of James Rettigue. His expression, however, had a significance that escaped others in the elevator. The Shadow was deliberating upon the simplicity of this expedition. He had chosen a direct measure as a start.

The Shadow knew that Elridge Rathcourt was a man controlled by Doctor Mocquino. Because of that, The Shadow had considered the plan of making a crooked entry, coming from outside the penthouse.

Such a system would certainly have proven a mental jolt to Rathcourt. He would have found himself faced by a being fully as terrible as the Voodoo Master.

Contrarily, The Shadow had pictured Rathcourt’s present mental condition. The Shadow was sure that members of the voodoo cult must be having qualms because Mocquino was, at present, a hunted villain.

A worried man would be apt to seek confidence in any one who came to him as a friend. As James Rettigue, The Shadow might play such a part with Elridge Rathcourt. Hence The Shadow had finally decided to utilize the mythical personality.

ARRIVING at the penthouse, The Shadow stepped into a small reception room to find a stocky, solemn-faced menial awaiting him. This was Rathcourt’s valet, the fellow with whom The Shadow had talked by telephone.

While the elevator door was clanging shut, The Shadow inquired for Mr. Rathcourt. Before the valet could reply, a strained voice sounded from an inner room.

“Who is it, Manuel?” came the query. “Mr. Rettigue?”

The valet turned.

“Yes, sir,” he responded. “Shall I usher him in?”

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