Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 024 - Six Men of Evil

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SIX MEN OF EVIL
Maxwell Grant
? CHAPTER I. AT THE BORDER
? CHAPTER II. BOLD CRIME
? CHAPTER III. WALTON EXPLAINS
? CHAPTER IV. THE CIVIC FUND
? CHAPTER V. THE SECOND ALIBI
? CHAPTER VI. THE SHADOW SUSPECTS
? CHAPTER VII. A THIRD CRIME
? CHAPTER VIII. HELD FOR MURDER
? CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW FINDS
? CHAPTER X. THE FORCED CLEW
? CHAPTER XI. THE MESSAGE DELIVERED
? CHAPTER XII. GUNS IN THE DARK
? CHAPTER XIII. THE RESEARCH
? CHAPTER XIV. THE MOON MESSENGER
? CHAPTER XV. THE AZTECS TELL
? CHAPTER XVI. THE FOURTH PLOT
? CHAPTER XVII. INTO THE NIGHT
? CHAPTER XVIII. THE SHADOW STRIKES
? CHAPTER XIX. THE SHADOW STRIKES AGAIN
? CHAPTER XX. BEYOND THE LAW
? CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW SPEAKS
? CHAPTER XXII. FIVE OF THE SIX
? CHAPTER XXIII. "THE CHICQUATIL"
CHAPTER I. AT THE BORDER
THE torrid Mexican sun had set. The lingering rays from the distant horizon threw a faint afterglow that
presaged a sweltering night. The gloom barely outlined a party of weary horsemen who were wending
their slow way through patches of mesquite, heading northward.
The men were talking. Their voices were hushed as though the dimness of the arid plain held them in awe.
Solitary wanderers in a deserted plain, they were temporarily traveling through a world peopled by
themselves alone.
The voices faded. The horses dragged along through silence. The mounted figures were dimming in the
gathering night. Then the tension broke as one of the plodders emitted a savage, growled oath.
The curse brought a coarse laugh from one of his companions. Grumbled mutterings followed from the
others, with one exception. A single rider maintained his steadfast silence.
"We'll get there before dawn," growled the man who had cursed. "Yes - we'll get there - and then
what?"
"We've got our divvy," returned one of his companions, thumping his hand upon a rough sack that lay
across his horse's back. "That's enough, ain't it, bo?"
"Sure," cut in a third voice. "Every guy for himself. That's the only way we can make a go of it."
The dull, labored thudding of hoofs replaced the brief conversation. Then a querulous speaker cut in with
a protesting opinion.
"We're splittin' eh?" he asked. "It's all we can do, I reckon; but it ain't goin' to get us nowhere."
"We've got Charley to thank for that," added a sarcastic voice.
The words brought forth an affirmative growl from all the riders but one.
The lone man who had maintained his silence still refused to speak for himself. He was riding behind the
others, now, his horse three lengths in back of them. He could hear every word that was expressed; and
his companions sensed that fact.
NOW that Charley's name had been mentioned, further sallies followed.
"He's the brains of this outfit, Charley is," said someone, with a laugh. "Had a way for us to make a
clean-up. What have we got?"
"A few thousand apiece," grumbled another. "That's better than nothing."
"Would you go through another six months for it?" came a question through the dark.
"For a few thousand?" Another laugh came with the response. "Say, bo, I wouldn't go through a week of
that misery we suffered even if we were to get the green chicquatil itself -"
"Sh-h!" A warning tone hissed beside the speaker's ear. "Lay off that stuff! It gives me the creeps. Don't
talk about the chicquatil! Every time I shut my eyes I see that green glow! Green everywhere - green that
never ends" - the man's voice was rising to a high, nervous pitch - "green light driving me mad -"
An arm thumped through the dark and punched the speaker roughly on the back. The man's words
ended abruptly.
Subdued mumbles came from the other riders. It was evident that they, too, held a nervous dread of
something that they all had witnessed. At length, one of the riders voiced the subject in an easy, reflective
tone that allayed the worries of the others.
"We're out of it," he said. "We'll forget it, soon. There's nobody going to take us back to the Aztec
temple. Let them keep the chicquatil there at Zeltapec. It's theirs, and they can have it. There's no one
who could take it from them. We've got something out of the wreck - enough to stake us -"
"To stake us?" The question came in a high tone from the nervous man who had been silenced. "To stake
us for what? We aren't even ourselves! Do you understand me? Not even ourselves! We're no one - no
one! - and Charley's to blame! He took us to that hell! I'd kill him if he hadn't suffered with us!"
"Yeah, Charley got his along with the rest of us," said another man, in philosophic tone. "He's not feeling
chipper, no more than us. Keeping mighty mum, there in back. Hasn't had much to say since we left
Zeltapec. Eh, Charley?"
The speaker glanced over his shoulder as he said the last words. He could not see the man to whom he
had referred as Charley. Only the slight thud of hoofs told that there was another man riding back there in
the darkness. Somehow, Charley seemed to feel himself ostracized from the companionship of these
men.
"See?" questioned the one who had called back. "Charley's got nothing to say. Afraid of us, maybe. He
ought to be. He led us up into the mountains. Called himself our leader. A big shot, Charley - and now
he's afraid of us!"
The others laughed in sarcastic tones. There was malice, not mirth, in their laughter. They were
unanimous in the thought that the man behind them was afraid; and their growled utterances were boding
ill for the one who had once been their leader.
"Charley's afraid of us -"
THE repeated challenge was broken by a harsh voice from the darkness. The lone rider had drawn close
to the others. Now, he was thrusting his horse among them, and his silence had been broken. He was
speaking in firm, even tones that commanded attention.
"I? Afraid of you?" Charley's question came in emphatic words. "Why be fools? There are five of you,
that's all. I'll take on ten more like you. You say I put you in wrong at Zeltapec? You lie!"
Not one of the five grumblers dared respond. Charley, coming up among them, had demonstrated his
power of command. As he paused to await an answer, the only response was the swishing of the
mesquite through which the plodding horses brushed.
"You made trouble for yourselves at Zeltapec," declared the man called Charley. "I was no more to
blame than any of you. We took a chance - for a big stake - and we lost. Be satisfied that you got away
with your hides, and that the Aztecs let you keep the gold. That's all."
"I guess Charley's right," admitted one of the others, in a low, rueful tone. "But it's not helping us much. It
seems all right here in the dark - but wait until dawn, when we look at each other. Then it will seem as
black as it did today - as it did yesterday - as it did the day before -"
"Cut it!" ordered Charley tersely. "I've listened to the same talk until I'm tired of it. You say I've been
keeping quiet. That's because I've been thinking. When you are ready to be quiet, I'll have my say - and
it will be something worthwhile."
A suppressed silence was instantaneous. With a few well-spoken phrases, the former leader had
regained his command. There, in the darkness, Charley's horse took the lead, with the others clustered
close beside, each man listening without an interruption.
"We're coming close to the border, now," stated Charley quietly. "That's where we split - as you fellows
decided. You say we've got to split - that if six men like us were together, we'd hit trouble just on our
looks. You're right about that. But you're all wrong to think that this is the finish.
"We stuck together at the start, didn't we? We thought alike; we talked alike; we acted alike - and finally
- we became alike. Six of a kind is what we are. Six men - with brains" - he paused after the compliment
- "and only one who knows how to use those brains!"
There was no response. The men rode on, a docile, willing group. Each seemed to lose his individuality
when the leader took the fore. Now, Charley became challenging in his tone.
"What are you?" he questioned. "I'll tell you. Five men that can fight a hundred if they follow instructions.
The trouble is, you've weakened. You figured you could go back to the United States and pick up. You
had your alibis.
"Maybe they've got you listed as men who scrambled across the border into Mexico - maybe they
haven't. If worst came to worst, you could say that bandits had dragged you there. But that's all ended
now, because you're changed men - and you're all in the same boat.
"You've been little crooks - little enough to get away with it. You enlisted in the army so as to hide, like I
did. You didn't like it, and when you found others of your kind, you deserted, like I did.
"I knew where there was something worthwhile getting, at Zeltapec. We went after it; we flopped; and
now, with a few thousand dollars worth of gold apiece, you want to go back to where you left off.
"I want to go back, too, but not the same man as I went away. So I'm glad of what happened to me at
Zeltapec - now that it's all over. I've got my brains; I know the ropes; and I'm free from recognition.
When I hit New York, I'll be ready for business, and there's nobody going to know me. That's why I'm
glad I'm different!"
Buzzed responses showed that the others understood their leader's meaning. Then, in mollified tones, one
of the listeners spoke, raising an objection in a cautious manner.
"That's right, Charley," said the man. "It's good for you. You're fixed right. But what about the rest of us -
how does it help us?"
Mumbles of agreement showed that the rest shared the opinion of the speaker. It was the final challenge
to the one who dominated.
CHARLEY was ready for it.
"How does it help you?" he asked. "It helps you great! I know you fellows like a book. Small-towners,
all of you. You went away from home; you got in dutch; you tried to grab a big haul so you could go
back and make a grand splurge in the little burgs you came from.
"You forget that you may be in wrong there. Those alibis might not hold up. Uncle Sam is none too easy
on deserters. You're not the first who skipped across the border!
"You all figured on going back home; the more you talked about it, the more you liked it. I let the idea
ride until later; then those Aztecs at Zeltapec changed the whole works. Here you are - crying about the
tough luck that's hit you - and all the while, you're passing up the opportunity that's worth a million each!"
Excited gasps came from the riders. They caught the ring of the leader's words. They crowded close in
breathless silence, knowing that some stupendous plan was coming.
"Spring it, Charley," came an eager voice. "Give us the lay. We're with you. What'll we do - stick
together?"
"We will go our own ways," declared the leader, in a low, firm tone. "Go as we had planned - each man
to the place of his choice. But we shall go as men unknown. Forget your old names, and adopt new
ones. You will be welcome, for each of you will have money. Forget crime; for it will be your duties to
create confidence in the communities where you belong.
"As respectable citizens, you will soon be recognized. Remember that you have perfect opportunities, for
you will be acquainted in your own home towns. The place of my choice is New York; there, I intend to
harbor my funds, and to be guarded in my actions. I could pull jobs there now - but I intend to pass up
the chance."
"Why, Charley?" came a question.
"Because," stated the leader, "I am going to wait for bigger opportunity. Each of you will have the time
that you require. Each will plan his own course; yet all will have the same objective; and I shall figure in
each climax.
"Six months - ten months - a year - time does not matter. I shall wait until each of you is ready. Then, one
by one, we shall reap the harvest. We are different; yet we are the same. Each will contribute; all will
share."
"It ain't clear to me yet, Charley," announced a gruff-voiced rider, "but it seems like you're gettin' to
somethin' worthwhile. We're to split; then each of us keeps in touch with you. I got that part straight. But
how are you goin' to come to see us - or do we go to see you?"
"No one sees another," responded the leader emphatically. "There will be no letters between us. Each
works toward his own objective. Then, when his time has arrived, he lets me know by special sign. You
remember, back at Zeltapec -"
"The Aztec signs!" exclaimed a rider.
"Exactly," declared the leader. "Make your plans; notify me when you are ready. Have the details for my
arrival; then we shall proceed."
"Proceed with what?" demanded one of the men.
The leader laughed. He rode ahead in silence; then, with carefully lowered voice, he began to speak.
Step by step, he weaved the details of the scheme that was in his mind. Not an utterance disturbed his
discourse. Miles went by beneath the steady feet of the plodding horses. Still the riders listened to the
words of the man who dominated them.
At last, the story was told. Words of admiration broke forth in jumbled chorus. One man had shown the
way to five. All six were prepared for work that lay ahead. Terse questions sounded in the dark. To
each, a reply was given by the leader.
THE glow of distant dawn was showing across the plains when the little caravan came to a halt. The
border had been reached. The men were ready for their parting on American soil.
"Remember all that I have told you" - the leader's voice was stern - "and wait until the proper plans are
made. There are five of you, and each has his job. I have told you how to reach me in New York. This is
the beginning. The past is forgotten."
He paused and stared through the dim light at the outlined forms of the men who rested on their horses.
Like the central figure in a group of statuary, the leader loomed and dominated.
"Each goes his way," he declared. "Each stays in his own place. No one can know our scheme - not even
-"
His voice broke off; then continued in a reminiscent tone, tinged with a gruff chuckle.
"When I make plans," he said, "I plan big. I left New York because I was up against the only man big
enough to lick me. I say a man, but he is more than that - he is The Shadow. Every crook that has tried
to cross The Shadow has lost out. The pay-off has been death. We got away alive from Zeltapec. No
one gets away alive from The Shadow.
"I was up against The Shadow; but I had time to get away before he spotted me. I saw what was
coming; that's why I scrammed. You fellows may think New York is big; but you're wrong. I was afraid
to go back there, with The Shadow waiting for me. That's why I aimed for Mexico.
"But now, it's different. I've got nothing to fear in New York. The Shadow can't spot me now. I'm
beyond his reach. He thinks that he can cope with crime. We'll show him crime that he can't touch! When
we are ready, not even The Shadow can begin to suspect our crimes!"
The horizon was glowing pink. The leader stared toward the east and waved his hand in warning gesture.
It was the signal for the parting. The others understood. Here, in the United States, by light of day, they
were not to be seen together.
FIVE men spoke to their horses. One by one, they pulled away, each heading in a different direction.
The leader alone remained. He watched the departing figures until they became tiny specks in the
distance.
Now, in the glow of early morn, the one man lifted the reins of his horse. He had sent five men upon their
missions. He was the sixth - alone and unperturbed. His face was visible in the rising light. That
countenance was as impassive as a molded cast. Only the lips moved as their owner sat in thought.
"The Shadow!" The name was uttered in a low, slow tone. "The Shadow - the man who knows! This is a
scheme he does not know; one that he can never know! Let him try to meet these crimes that will end
when they begin!"
A coarse chuckle sounded from the spreading lips. The last of the six men slapped the reins upon the
horse's back. The steed moved slowly across the arid plain.
One man had schemed. He had crossed the border. He had sent others on their way. Each carried
limited wealth upon his saddle; each had, somehow, gained immunity from that suspicion which spells the
end of crime.
Five had gone; the sixth was choosing his own course. Yet, even now, his way was certain. In the months
to come, this man would deal in crime whenever he might be summoned.
He was a man who had dealt in crime before; but now, within his scheming mind lay plans for
supercrime. He was ready to defy The Shadow! This band of criminals would strike - no one knew
when. But until they struck, there would not even be any suspicion.
When this crime broke forth, would The Shadow know? Could The Shadow solve this crime?
CHAPTER II. BOLD CRIME
TWO men were seated in an oak-paneled study. The room was obviously a portion of a palatial home,
for its heavy furnishings, from thick rugs to massive mahogany desk and chairs, symbolized the last word
in expense.
One man, evidently a visitor, was sitting in a comfortable chair, idly smoking a cigarette. There was a
certain restlessness in his attitude, but it did not betray itself upon his face. His features bore an impassive
look. In fact, all who had ever met Earl Northrup were impressed by the singularity of his appearance.
The immobile expression of Northrup's countenance was accentuated by the characteristics of his
physiognomy. His nose was broad and his cheeks, chin, and forehead seemed to slope away in uniform
fashion.
His lips were thick and heavy. His eyes had a steady stare that changed only when they sparkled. Eyes
and lips alone were the portions of Northrup's countenance that gave any evidence of emotion.
The other man - the owner of this home - was a dignified, elderly gentleman, with aristocratic gray hair.
He was seated at the desk, going over a stack of papers with absolute indifference to Northrup's
presence. That was the way with Anthony Hanscom. He was a business man who had become
successful through concentration.
At last Hanscom glanced up, and his eyes met Northrup's. The elderly man smiled wanly. He pushed the
papers aside, and leaned back in his swivel chair. He folded his hands and rested them beneath his chin.
"You're a very patient man, Northrup," he commented. "I think you are probably the most patient man in
this part of Illinois. That's why I enjoy having you out here. Work comes first with me, and it's a pleasure
to have a guest who does not interfere with it."
Northrup indulged in a slight smile. His restlessness, which had been unnoticed by Hanscom, was now
gone. He glanced idly above Hanscom's head, and gave a short grunt of surprise as he noticed a clock
upon the mantel.
"Quarter of nine," he commented. "It's getting quite near train time, Mr. Hanscom."
Hanscom looked at the clock and frowned.
"That's right," he remarked. "Let's see - that express to Chicago stops here in Tilson at nine fifteen. It will
take us fifteen minutes to reach the station. I had no idea time had gone so rapidly. I must call my
secretary at once."
HANSCOM rang a bell beside the desk. A quietly dressed young man entered the room. This was Carl
Walton, Hanscom's secretary.
"It's getting late, Walton," said Hanscom. "I didn't notice the time. These bonds" - he drew a package
from a desk drawer - "will have to wait. I intended to go over them while you took off the numbers. I
don't like to neglect the job, especially as I will be a week in Chicago; at the same time, I ought to be on
hand. Northrup was going over them with me; that's why he came up tonight. However -"
"I can come back from the station," interposed Northrup quietly. "There's no reason why Walton and I
cannot do the work together. I have nothing to do this evening."
"Don't put yourself to that trouble, Northrup," responded Hanscom. "The work can wait until I come
back. I'll just put the bonds in the safe and forget about them."
"It's no trouble to me," insisted Northrup.
"Very well," declared Hanscom. "I'll leave the bonds here, Walton. You can take off the numbers while
Mr. Northrup and I are riding to the station. When you're finished, let Northrup go over the bonds when
he comes back. After that, put the bonds in the safe and lock the combination. If Northrup does not
come back, lock them up before you leave the room."
"I'll probably be back," said Earl Northrup.
Carl Walton nodded and left the study. Anthony Hanscom began to make the last preparations for his
journey, talking to Northrup as he did so.
"I'll be glad to get to Chicago," asserted Hanscom. "It seems as though I am anchored in Tilson. Business
is good here; I have this beautiful home; and I should be satisfied. Nevertheless, I like the big city. I have
to get up there frequently. I don't see how you can stand it here in Tilson all the time."
"I've only lived here about eight months," responded Northrup, with a sour smile. "Maybe after a few
years I'll be glad to get away, too."
"You have established yourself very nicely," said Hanscom, with an approving nod. "You have the right
idea, Northrup. If a man comes to a small city with a reasonable amount of capital, and applies himself to
a stable business, he is bound to succeed - especially when he is honest and friendly, as you are. Good
will means a lot when a man has a limited number of neighbors."
"I have found that to be true," answered Northrup. "I have found Tilson an exceptional town. Of course,
much of that is due to your presence here. Without Anthony Hanscom, Tilson would be merely another
spot on the map of Illinois."
"Becoming complimentary now, eh?" laughed Hanscom, "Well, I guess you mean it, Northrup. You have
a good business head, and I like your sincerity. Most of the people around here are limited in ideas. Well
- we can have a last chat on the way to the station. I'll go along in your car with you. Sorry you aren't
going to Chicago with me."
Hanscom rang the bell; then went to the door to meet Carl Walton. The secretary was bringing
Hanscom's bag. The gray-haired man took it from him and hurriedly left, accompanied by Earl
Northrup.
CARL WALTON closed the door of the study and picked up the stack of bonds. Noting the numbers,
he marked them down one by one on a sheet of paper. Walton was slow and methodical in his work.
That was his principal qualification as secretary to Anthony Hanscom.
Secluded here in Tilson, Hanscom, despite his wealth and numerous interests, managed to keep his
affairs on a simple, definite basis. He did not require a secretary with initiative. Hence Carl Walton had an
easy task, although the salary was low.
Walton's job involved very little responsibility. When Anthony Hanscom left Tilson, the secretary merely
handled minor affairs during the employer's absence. Walton did not even know the combination to the
wall safe in the room. It was a strong box of the latest pattern; one built to defy the most expert
cracksman; yet it was seldom that Hanscom left articles of value in the house.
Tonight was one of the few exceptions. Hanscom had conducted business involving the transfer of
various securities and had kept the bonds at home for a few days. Now, the examination of the bonds
had been postponed, and after taking off the numbers, Walton's only duty would be to put the bonds in
the safe and leave them until Hanscom returned.
While Walton was completing his task, he heard the whistle of the train leaving the station for Chicago. It
reminded him that Earl Northrup had intended to return and that the bonds must be kept out in case
Hanscom's friend came back to the house.
Walton knew little about Northrup except that he had come to Tilson several months ago, and had made
a good impression in the town as a man of means. Northrup had easily acquired the confidence of
Anthony Hanscom, and it was because of Northrup's own interest in sound investments that Hanscom
had invited him to look over the bonds. Here, in the house with Walton, the securities were safe,
especially as Mosier, Hanscom's six-foot butler, was also on duty.
When he had completed his list of numbers, Carl Walton placed the bonds in the open safe and went
back to the desk. There, he made a careful copy of the list. Pushing both papers toward the front of the
desk, Walton glanced up idly and was surprised to see Earl Northrup standing watching him.
"Oh, hello!" blurted Walton. "When did you come back, Mr. Northrup?"
"Just now," declared Northrup quietly. "Where are the bonds?"
"In the safe," responded Walton. "It's still open. I'll get them for you."
The secretary brought forth the securities and placed them on the desk. Northrup began to study them
while Walton strolled about the room. The secretary noted that Hanscom's friend was examining the lists
that had been prepared.
"Sure you took all these numbers correctly?" questioned Northrup suddenly.
"I think so," replied the secretary.
"I'll put the bonds away then," said Northrup.
He picked up the pile of securities and went to the wall safe. He carried the lists of numbers with him.
Standing in front of the safe, Northrup made a motion of placing the bonds inside. He closed the door of
the safe and turned the knob.
Coming back to the desk, Northrup folded the lists and dropped them in the desk drawer. He picked up
his hat from a chair and strolled toward the door.
A DUBIOUS expression came over Carl Walton's face. A sudden suspicion had come to the secretary's
mind - a suspicion that all was not well. He waited until Northrup had opened the door; then raised a
sudden objection.
"You should have let me put those bonds away," declared Walton. "I'm responsible for them."
"They're in the safe," said Northrup quietly.
"I didn't see them go in there," stated Walton.
"Open the safe, then," volunteered Northrup. "Look them over. I put the lists back in the desk drawer."
"I don't have the combination to the safe," objected Walton. "Mr. Hanscom told me to put the bonds
away. I didn't think you were going to lock the safe."
Northrup laughed in an indulgent tone and shrugged his shoulders. He started through the door; then
paused as he heard Walton's challenging tone.
"Wait a minute, Mr. Northrup!" called Walton, in a serious tone. "You may be a friend of Mr. Hanscom;
but I'm responsible for affairs around here. I don't like the way you walked in. You must have taken the
liberty of coming into the house without ringing; otherwise Mosier would have notified me that you had
returned. I'm on duty here, and I want to make sure that everything is right."
The secretary walked to the desk and drew out the two folded papers that Northrup had placed there.
Watching Northrup, Walton unfolded the papers and looked at them. They were blank!
The truth struck home to Carl Walton. He knew the game now. Those bonds were not in the safe; they
were in Northrup's pocket. So were the lists of numbers. Earl Northrup had deliberately stolen Anthony
Hanscom's bonds - securities worth a quarter of a million - and had ingeniously substituted blank sheets
of paper for the lists that might have aided in the tracing of the stolen goods!
"You can't get away with this!" cried Walton hoarsely. "You've got those bonds, Northrup, and the lists,
too! Give them back to me!"
An evil scowl showed on Northrup's puffy lips. By the action, the crook virtually confessed his guilt to
Carl Walton. The secretary sprang across the room and seized Northrup by the shoulder.
"Give me those bonds, you thief!"
In reply, Northrup hurled the secretary halfway across the room. Walton plunged into the desk and
caught himself before he fell to the floor.
But as he stared into the desk drawer, Walton saw the object that he needed. This was a revolver that
Anthony Hanscom always had available.
Walton knew that the gun was loaded. He grasped it and swung toward Earl Northrup, holding the
weapon in his right hand and steadying himself against the desk with his left.
Carl Walton never realized that in this action he had openly betrayed his intentions to the watchful man
beside the door. Before Walton had a chance to aim the revolver, Earl Northrup was upon him. With a
quick motion, Northrup seized the secretary's wrist and twisted the revolver from the hand that held it.
Walton struggled fiercely. Northrup, his evil lips grinning, met the secretary's attack. Warding off
Walton's gripping hands, Northrup made a vicious swing with the revolver and struck a glancing blow
beside Walton's ear. The secretary collapsed and sprawled upon the floor.
Northrup's gloating ended suddenly. With a quick turn, the man faced the door, just in time to meet
Mosier. Hanscom's butler had heard the altercation. He had come upstairs. He had seen Northrup strike
down the secretary.
Now, a new struggle was coming, and this time Northrup had no weakling as an adversary. Mosier, two
hundred pounds in weight and six feet tall, was a powerful antagonist. His face was grim as he hurled
himself upon the man with the revolver.
Northrup did not hesitate. He fired point-blank at Mosier's heart. The bullet reached its mark. Earl
Northrup stepped calmly aside as Mosier's heavy form plunged forward and fell face downward on the
floor. The butler's outstretched hands were within a foot of Carl Walton's motionless body.
There was no delay in Northrup's next action. The murderer leaned over Walton and laughed as he
carefully wiped the handle of the revolver and placed it in the secretary's grip. The gun slipped from
Walton's nerveless fingers, and dropped to the floor. Then the secretary's hand moved feebly. Earl
Northrup grinned as he saw that Walton was regaining his senses.
Rising, Earl Northrup walked swiftly to the door of the room. He descended the stairs, found a darkened
doorway in the rear hall, and stepped out into the night. The sound of distant shouts could be heard.
UP in the room where Mosier lay dead, Carl Walton was slowly opening his eyes. The secretary rubbed
the side of his head in dazed fashion; then a bewildered look appeared upon Walton's face as he saw the
dead form of Mosier.
Walton could not understand. He recalled that Earl Northrup had been here; that was all. He was
thinking vaguely of the bonds. What was Mosier's connection? The butler had not been here.
In the midst of these reflections, Carl Walton saw the revolver beside him. He picked up the weapon and
looked at Mosier. For the first time, Walton realized what had happened. Mosier was dead - slain with
this weapon!
摘要：

SIXMENOFEVILMaxwellGrant?CHAPTERI.ATTHEBORDER?CHAPTERII.BOLDCRIME?CHAPTERIII.WALTONEXPLAINS?CHAPTERIV.THECIVICFUND?CHAPTERV.THESECONDALIBI?CHAPTERVI.THESHADOWSUSPECTS?CHAPTERVII.ATHIRDCRIME?CHAPTERVIII.HELDFORMURDER?CHAPTERIX.THESHADOWFINDS?CHAPTERX.THEFORCEDCLEW?CHAPTERXI.THEMESSAGEDELIVERED?CHAPTE...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：89 页 大小：220.06KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-19

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