Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 249 - Five Ivory Boxes

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FIVE IVORY BOXES
Maxwell Grant
This page copyright © 2002 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? CHAPTER I. THE IVORY BOXES
? CHAPTER II. CREEPS IN THE NIGHT
? CHAPTER III. DOUBLE CRIME
? CHAPTER IV. A MURDERER'S RETURN
? CHAPTER V. FOUR MINUS ONE
? CHAPTER VI. THREE PARTNERS MEET
? CHAPTER VII. DEATH MOVES AHEAD
? CHAPTER VIII. VANISHED BY NIGHT
? CHAPTER IX. LINK TO THE PAST
? CHAPTER X. REPORT UNFINISHED
? CHAPTER XI. CROSSED BATTLE
? CHAPTER XII. LURK OF DEATH
? CHAPTER XIII. TRAILS ROUND ABOUT
? CHAPTER XIV. A QUESTION OF KILLERS
? CHAPTER XV. CRIME WITHOUT FRUIT
? CHAPTER XVI. TWO OF A KIND
? CHAPTER XVII. LOST AND FOUND
? CHAPTER XVIII. WHERE RIVALS MET
? CHAPTER XIX. DEATH'S DESTINATION
? CHAPTER XX. CRIME'S ULTIMATE
? CHAPTER XXI. THE FIVE BOXES
CHAPTER I. THE IVORY BOXES
THERE were five men gathered around the table; five whose faces were intent as they gazed at the
object that rested in the center—an ivory box, its surface carved in an intricate pattern of harmonious
design. The box was a perfect cube, measuring nearly a foot on each side, and it seemed to invite the
grasp of eager hands.
However, such hands were restraining themselves. Four of the men present were leaving all handling of
the box to Alexander Talbor, the man who could claim its ownership by right of present possession.
He was an odd creature, Talbor. His deep-lined face, his thin gray hair and stooped shoulders,
evidenced the weight of age. In contrast, Talbor, by action, showed himself spry and energetic.
Experience had aged him, but with it Alexander Talbor had lost none of the driving force that had carried
him through strange adventures in distant lands.
Not the least of those adventures was the one that had resulted in Talbor's acquisition of the ivory box
and its contents, which all the rest were so eager to see. Talbor recognized their impatience, when he
looked about the group.
"Five ivory boxes," chuckled Talbor. "One for each of us. Rare boxes, obtained at a high price—that of
many lives!"
The listeners stared. Talbor was speaking of five boxes, whereas they saw only one. Their curiosity about
the other four was soon to be satisfied. Picking up the box between his quick, nervous hands, Talbor
probed deftly among the many squares that formed its pattern. Quite suddenly, the lid of the cube sprang
open.
Inside was a second box, that Talbor removed. It was similar to the first, except in size, being about two
inches smaller. Removing the second box, Talbor played his fingers along its surface. In the same
surprising fashion, the second box came open.
A third box was within. Again, Talbor operated it deftly, to open it and produce a fourth. Therewith, his
action was repeated, until the fourth box, springing wide, disgorged a fifth, which, according to Talbor's
own tabulation, must be the final one.
It was the fifth box, small enough to be cupped between his loose-spread hands, that Talbor handled
with the greatest care.
Talbor's eyes were quick and darty as they roved the group, seeking to capture other gazes. When he
was satisfied on that point, Talbor pressed a hidden spring; the fifth box came wide, and its owner
chuckled as he placed it on the table, beside the others that he had taken from the nest.
No wonder Talbor chuckled.
Gleaming from the final box was a great ruby, so glorious a gem that no one could have mistaken it for
anything but genuine. This was the prize that all had expected, an object so rare and valuable that
Talbor's comment on the ivory boxes amounted to no more than idle banter.
"The pride of the Orient!" gloated Talbor. "The great Siamese ruby that once graced an emperor's
crown! Our ruby, gentlemen!" Shrewdly, his eyes roved the group. "I should say 'mine,' until you have
paid me the stipulated price of fifty thousand dollars each, toward joint ownership."
There was a buzz of indignation from the group, rising to individual voices, all expressing the same
protest. The price was not fifty thousand apiece. Before his trip to the Orient, Talbor had agreed to
acquire and deliver the matchless ruby for the sum total of fifty thousand dollars. His present claim was a
false one, an outright misrepresentation of the facts.
To all this, Talbor listened, his face set in an adamant smile that told he would not yield the point at issue.
Only Talbor's eyes moved, as he checked upon the indignant faces that confronted him.
These partners in Talbor's venture were behaving in the individual style that he expected.
FIRST: Wilbur Glenlake. His tone had a rumble that suited his glowering, bulldog face, with its
underslung jaw. Glenlake was a successful man of business, who had retired after a career in which he
had constantly forced his indomitable will upon lesser associates. He was trying such tactics with Talbor,
at present, but they wouldn't work.
A contrast was Laird Trevose. He was the professional type, a criminal lawyer who had matched wits
with the best of prosecutors. His eyes were sharp, his voice persuasive, though his features, thin and dry,
retained a poker-faced attitude. He thought he could outwit Talbor, but he would learn that he couldn't.
The third man, Jonathan Philmont, had been a professor in his time. His face was roundish, both studious
and reflective. His eyes had a kindly, puzzled gaze through the beribboned glasses that adorned his nose.
But Philmont was neither generous nor bewildered. He was out for all that he could get, and Talbor knew
it.
Last of the lot was Peter Harlingen, the noted scientist whose experiments with X rays had won him
awards as a humanitarian. But if Harlingen had any regard for the human race, it was embodied all in
himself. He was as selfish as the rest, perhaps more so.
With these four, it was one for all and all for one, each with the desire to be the final one. If anyone could
find an easy way of eliminating all the others, Talbor included, that individual would do it. Each man
wanted the magnificent Siamese ruby for his own prize; they were willing to share, however, only
because there was no other way.
"My price still stands, gentlemen," announced Talbor blandly. "At that, I am offering you a bargain. This
long-sought ruby is worth half a million dollars, to the right purchaser, with no questions asked. By
pooling your resources, you will stand in line for a sizable profit. My only purpose is to get my proper
share."
Closing the ruby within the smallest box, Talbor began to put the nest together, watching the other men as
he did, and noting their typical reactions.
Glowering, Glenlake was thinking only of the ruby. Trevose, eyes alert, was studying the way the boxes
fitted. Philmont's gaze was distant, through his spectacles. As for Harlingen, he waited until the largest
box had clicked shut, then observed the fitted nest as a whole, as though an idea had struck him.
"You can't get away with this, Talbor!" boomed Glenlake. "Can he, Trevose?"
"Impossible!" responded Trevose, in the dry style of a consulting attorney. "We happen to know the
lengths to which Talbor went to acquire the ruby."
"One word from any of us," announced Philmont, in an important tone, "and your game is up, Talbor!"
"And we shall speak that word," reminded Harlingen, "if you insist upon forcing the issue!"
Rising, Talbor picked up the five nested boxes with a satisfied smile. He stepped to a corner of the room,
removed a picture from the wall and disclosed a small safe behind it. Speaking while he turned the dial,
Talbor gave his final verdict.
"We share a common secret," he declared. "One that none of you would dare to reveal. Admitting that
we were partners in our venture, each of you can be held liable for the bribery, and resulting crimes—
including murder—that my effort to gain the ruby required."
Opening the safe as he finished, Talbor looked across his shoulder. One pair of eyes shifted hastily; they
belonged to Wilbur Glenlake.
From his angle, Glenlake had been watching Talbor turn the safe knob— something that had not
interested the rest; partly because they lacked Glenlake's advantage, partly because their minds turned to
subtler plans.
Putting the nested boxes in the safe, Talbor closed the door and twirled the knob. He reiterated his
intentions, with the precise statement:
"The five ivory boxes will remain here, gentlemen, until you meet my price. That stone, the ruby, will be
yours to share. As for the ivory boxes, we shall each keep one as a memento of a profitable partnership."
AS the other four arose, Talbor opened the door to another room and gestured them through. On the
threshold, Glenlake paused, to boom a question.
"What about that servant of yours, Talbor? Does he know anything about the boxes or their contents?"
"Absolutely nothing!" replied Talbor. "In fact, I have dismissed Channing from my service. So, good
evening, gentlemen, and be careful about going out. Use the back exit, at the bottom of the stairway."
The other men nodded as Talbor conducted them through the connecting room to a hallway where stairs
showed ahead. He watched them start down, then closed the door. They heard it shut, but said nothing
until they had descended a full floor. Then whispers began among them.
"The ruby is ours, whatever Talbor says -"
"He's in it deeper than we are, so he'll have to come to terms -"
"He'll come to terms, all right, when his money runs out -"
"That's right. Time is to our advantage!"
There were three flights down to the lobby. Near the bottom, the four men paused by mutual agreement.
One by one, they sneaked down the final series of steps, to an obscure passage that led out to a rear
street. There, before taking separate courses, they waited in the offing, to make sure that the rest had
come along.
None of the four trusted each other. Nor did Alexander Talbor trust any of his partners. That fact was
evidenced, a few minutes later, when Talbor's stooped figure appeared at the rear exit that the rest had
left. His chin buried in his overcoat collar, hat pulled down upon his head, Talbor sidled along the street,
checking the cars that pulled away from various spots along the curb.
Glenlake's car first; then one belonging to Trevose. Philmont picked up a cab, a block away, and Talbor
was close enough to witness his departure. That left only Harlingen, and Talbor snooped craftily in search
of the fourth man. He finally spied Harlingen, three blocks from the hotel, entering a subway entrance.
Waiting a few minutes, until he heard a subway train arrive and rumble away, Alexander Talbor chuckled
to himself and stalked toward a little lunchroom, to get a midnight snack. He'd fared well in the
conference, Talbor had, but he was thinking of the future, not the past.
How long Talbor's finances would enable him to hold out against the wealthy combine, was only part of
his problem. The rest involved the Siamese ruby itself.
Possession of that much-prized gem was in itself a liability. In centuries past, the stone had brought
disaster not only to those who owned it, but to those who sought it.
Of course, no one but Talbor and his associates would suspect that such a jewel was locked within the
five ivory boxes so safely stowed in the hotel room safe. But a secret shared by five men belonged to far
too many. Particularly when each of the five felt that he was entitled to the ruby, quite as much as was its
present owner.
Five ivory boxes!
They boded doom for any man who held them, and Alexander Talbor, the present owner of those boxes,
stood first in line for tragedy, unless the wits that had served him so well in the past could preserve him
through the future!
CHAPTER II. CREEPS IN THE NIGHT
IT was only a few minutes after midnight, when Harry Vincent sauntered into the lobby of the Hotel
Talleyrand and glanced about the place. It was just the sort of hotel where Harry would expect to find
Alexander Talbor, the man whose trail he had been seeking for the past few days.
Not that Harry knew much about Talbor. In fact, Harry had never even seen the fellow. It was The
Shadow who wanted data on Talbor, and Harry Vincent had been assigned to the preliminary work of
locating the man in question.
So it often happened in the service of The Shadow. Usually, however, Harry's surveys concerned
persons much more sinister than Alexander Talbor. Indeed, there was nothing of the sinister about
Talbor. The man was notable only as a lecturer who had traveled to remote quarters of the globe while
acquiring material for his public appearances.
Talbor, like his lectures, belonged distinctly to the past. Harry, for one, recalled him only as a boyhood
memory, when Talbor had toured Michigan, Harry's home State, speaking on the world of today as it
had been then.
That tour had probably been Talbor's last, though the man's name had stayed before the public in
connection with movie shorts on travel subjects. Talbor photographed those reels himself, and they were
voiced by the studios to which he shipped them.
Hence, finding Alexander Talbor wasn't easy, since no one knew what he looked like, talked like, or
what his habits were, except, of course, those persons to whom he happened to disclose himself.
Nevertheless, Harry Vincent was using a very good system in tracking Alexander Talbor.
The system was this:
Since Talbor had probably reserved rooms ahead of him, at some New York hotel, his mail would be on
hand at the desk, along with letters for other unregistered persons. All that Harry had to do was ask if
any mail had come for himself, and the clerk would sort through the letters to see.
Sometimes, such mail was alphabetically arranged; if so, all the better. Vincent would be under "V," near
the very bottom, which meant a trip through the whole pile.
By watching the sorting, Harry kept a lookout for "Talbor" while the search was under way. As an asset
to this system, Harry had practiced reading names upside down, from right to left, and was all set to spot
Alexander Talbor's name if it appeared.
Harry's request for mail brought the same barren result at the Hotel Talleyrand. The clerk found no letter
for anyone named Vincent, and Harry saw that there was none for Talbor. Then came the clerk's usual
inquiry: did Harry intend to register? As usual, Harry was about to shake his head, when a diversion
occurred.
The features of the man who supplied it were well muffled in overcoat collar and hat pulled down upon
his graying hair. He walked with a stoop. He came in from the street and headed directly for the elevator,
where he nodded abruptly when the operator said:
"Good evening, Mr. Talbor."
The clerk was watching Talbor, as though the man constituted a living curiosity. Perhaps he thought that
such a guest was a sale's point in the hotel's favor. Noting Harry's interest, the clerk leaned across the
desk and confided:
"An interesting gentleman, that Mr. Talbor. Came in two days ago. Been around the world a dozen times,
or more. He picked this hotel, and he likes it so much that he's going to stay right on."
The dial showed that the elevator was stopping at the fourth floor. Turning to the clerk, Harry acted as
though convinced of the merits of the Hotel Talleyrand. He decided that he would take a room, provided
that it wasn't too expensive, and thereby he reduced the choice to the lower floors. The clerk gave Harry
a room on the fifth.
ON the way to the elevator, Harry observed a rear passage leading from the lobby and noticed that it
turned a corner past a staircase that could be seen from only one angle. Since the Hotel Talleyrand had
no other special merit, Harry judged that the obscure stairs might be a reason why Alexander Talbor had
chosen it as residence. It certainly fitted Talbor's reputation as a mystery man, this place where a person
could slide in or out unobserved. True, Harry had seen Talbor enter by the lobby, but that didn't mean
that he always used the recognized route. Nor did it apply to any clandestine guests who might call on
Talbor.
Mentally, Harry was getting close to the existing state of things, though there was an added point that the
clerk had not mentioned. A very important point, relative to Talbor's choice of the Talleyrand, in
preference to similar apartment hotels in Manhattan.
The point was this: Talbor's apartment had once been occupied by the hotel manager; on that account, its
wall had a built-in safe. That one item had sold Talbor on stopping at the Talleyrand; the stairway, with its
easy access to the street, was just an added attraction.
Before the elevator could start Harry on his upward journey, the clerk received a call at the desk phone,
and the elevator operator waited to hear what it was about. Obviously, Mr. Talbor was on the wire, for
the clerk kept repeating the name earnestly, apologetically, and at the end, beseechingly.
At last, the clerk turned, started to say something, but finished by beckoning to the elevator man, who left
the car and met the clerk halfway to the desk.
Their buzzed tones carried, and Harry caught the gist of things. For some reason that the clerk couldn't
understand, their prize guest, Mr. Talbor, was checking out. The clerk finished with a despairing spread
of his arms.
"His servant has already packed the bags," said the clerk. "Mr. Talbor sent him to look for other
quarters, and he found them. He's coming back here in a cab to pick them up."
The elevator man stared blankly. "What servant?" he queried. "Does Mr. Talbor have one?"
The clerk nodded.
"A man named Channing," he stated. "He's been in and out a few times, but he usually stays close to the
apartment. Anyway, Channing is gone, and Mr. Talbor is leaving, too. So bring the bags when you come
down."
Harry pretended that he hadn't heard a word. The elevator man took him to the fifth floor and showed
the room assigned to him, but Harry didn't stay there long. Instead, he hurried along the hall, found the
stairway and crept down to the fourth floor.
There, peering around the corner, Harry saw the elevator man picking up some suitcases that were
stacked outside a door. Evidently, Talbor had simply put them outside where the elevator man could take
them.
What Harry didn't learn was that Talbor's suite had two doors; one opening toward the elevators, the
other close to the very stairs that Harry had used for his own inspection trip. Going up those stairs again,
Harry reached his room and made a prompt phone call, which was answered by a quiet voice:
"Burbank speaking."
Burbank was The Shadow's contact man, through whom Harry could always reach his chief. As prompt
as he was methodical, Burbank also had a quiet way of producing confidence, one which Harry had
found most helpful when phoning under stress.
And Harry, at present, felt heavy stress, though he couldn't analyze the reason. The mere fact that Talbor
was checking out was not enough to produce a tense sensation.
So, curbing his growing imagination, Harry told Burbank that the bird was about to fly for parts
unknown, and Burbank, as a matter of course, instructed Harry to keep watch a short while longer. In
keeping with that order, Harry left the room again and took his position at the stair top.
He was sure that he would hear the elevator, if it came to the fourth floor again. Should Talbor intend to
go down by the stairs, now that his bags were in the lobby, Harry should certainly hear him. The fact that
Harry could hear things that happened on the stairs, was demonstrated suddenly, and in a fashion that
gave a prophetic quality to Harry's earlier qualms.
FOOTSTEPS came creeping from the stairway.
Slow, creaky footsteps, that couldn't belong to Talbor, for these were coming upward. They were
somewhere below the fourth floor and, as Harry listened, they reached the floor itself.
It was then that Harry, on the fifth, realized that he ought to investigate the owner of those stealthy
creeps, so he started a downward sneak. Then, on an afterthought, Harry halted.
The creaks were going in the wrong direction. Instead of approaching the door where Harry had seen the
bags, they stole in the opposite direction. Listening, Harry heard a door come open, then a soft thud as it
closed. Deciding that some prowling guest had simply tucked himself away for the night, Harry judged
that the man had no connection with Talbor.
The case was quite the opposite. The door that Harry had heard come open and go shut chanced to be
the other entrance to Talbor's suite, the route through the connecting room, by which four visitors had
come and gone earlier this evening!
Getting back to the fifth floor, Harry decided to close his own door, which he had left ajar. Hand on the
knob, he was feeling in his pocket to make sure he had his key, when a whispered laugh reached his ear.
As he looked up, Harry felt a gloved hand clamp his own, its pressure urging silence. Then Harry was
staring into burning eyes, the only visible features of a face that was obscured by the brim of a slouch hat.
Below those eyes were black-cloaked shoulders.
The Shadow!
Harry's chief had made a rapid journey to the Hotel Talleyrand. His remarkable arrival in Harry's room
was explained by a breeze that swayed the folds of The Shadow's cloak. The breeze came from the
window, by which The Shadow had entered, after scaling the outside ledges of the old-fashioned building
wall.
To Harry's ears came the whispered word:
"Report!"
Briefly, Harry added what little he had learned since phoning Burbank. When he mentioned the creeping
footsteps, he caught a sharp glow from The Shadow's eyes. The Shadow asked the exact location of
Talbor's suite, in reference to Harry's. When Harry gave it, The Shadow responded:
"Watch the stairway. Let no one leave!"
Then, with a whisk of his cloak, The Shadow was gone. Across Harry's room, he merged with the
blackness of the window. When darkness unclouded and Harry saw the blinks of an electric sign, coming
through the night, he knew that The Shadow was off on a trip along the outside ledge, to a spot that
would give him access to Talbor's room, on the floor below.
Still wondering how little, or how much, the creeps from the stairway might have meant, Harry moved
back to his post. He was hardly there before he heard the creeping sound again.
Tightening his hand on an automatic in his pocket, Harry decided that whoever it might be, Talbor or the
unknown man, he would follow the prowler down the stairs.
Right then, he learned that the system wouldn't work. Whoever those creeping steps denoted, they
belonged to a new factor in the case. Two men had already come to the fourth floor: one by the elevator,
another by the stairway. They were soon to be joined by a third.
These new footsteps, almost at the fourth floor when Harry heard them from a story above, were also
coming up from the darkened stairs below!
CHAPTER III. DOUBLE CRIME
A RING of light glowed upon the dial of the safe that was set in Talbor's wall. Within that circle, a steady
hand was turning the combination to the exact numbers that Talbor, himself, had used a short while
before.
The hand stopped; its motion was eager as it gripped the knob and tugged. The safe came open.
The light glistened upon a cube of creamy white, the outer of the five ivory boxes that contained the
stolen ruby from Siam. As eager as the hand that held the light, was the face that pushed into the glow.
It was the face of Wilbur Glenlake.
A little thing like robbery couldn't faze the retired business magnate with the bulldog profile, not where the
ivory boxes were concerned. Glenlake already regarded himself as part owner in the Siamese ruby, since
he had helped finance Talbor's trip to gain it. However, Glenlake also recognized the rights of ownership
as stated by Talbor.
Those rights had become Glenlake's. His chuckle was a deep basso gloat, as he withdrew the largest box
from the safe and his face from the light. Clutching the ivory prize with the arm that held the flashlight,
Glenlake used his other hand to shut the safe door and then smear away all fingerprints with a
handkerchief.
Not that Glenlake feared the law. He was sure that Talbor would never report this robbery. Glenlake
was worried about his other associates. They would believe that one man of four had stolen the boxes
and the ruby, all for his own. It would be Glenlake's business to play dumb, and act grieved like the rest
of them. He couldn't afford to leave traces of his crime, even though it was no crime, to his warped mind.
Closing the safe was Glenlake's mistake.
So far, he hadn't made too much noise, not even with his booming chuckle. But the metallic thud of the
closing safe door was a heavy sound that carried.
As Glenlake turned from the safe, a door popped open in a corner of the room. It was the door of
Talbor's bedroom, and Glenlake knew it. Extinguishing his flashlight, Glenlake broke for the other door
that led through the connecting room to the outlet afforded by the stairs.
At that moment a window shattered, as a figure in black precipitated itself through with a swing from the
ledge above. Landing on the floor, The Shadow saw two figures swing as they grappled; one, a brawny
man, who was clutching a squarish object under his arm and swinging at an opponent, with a flashlight as
a cudgel; the other, a stoop-shouldered fighter, in shirt sleeves, whose thin, white hair made a bobbing
beacon in the darkness.
The Shadow did not wait to identify the strugglers. So far, he knew nothing about Glenlake; while Talbor
was something of a mystery figure, whose return to New York had accompanied certain rumors from the
Orient. What they were fighting over, was also doubtful, though it looked very much like a square white
box, that rattled slightly as they grappled.
They saw The Shadow as he landed, for he was against the background of the window, where flickered
the electric sign from across the way. As if in concert, the two lunged through the connecting door,
slamming it behind them, cutting off the challenging laugh that came from The Shadow's hidden lips.
The mutual action was logical.
It wouldn't be policy for Glenlake to stay around, having acquired the ivory boxes. In Talbor's case, all
invaders could be classed as enemies. To reclaim the stolen prize, the man in shirt sleeves would prefer to
deal with opponents singly; hence, he went along with Glenlake.
Reaching the connecting door, The Shadow wrenched it open to lunge upon the strugglers. Halfway
through his drive, The Shadow turned it into a sideward sprawl that landed him shoulder first upon the
floor. The Shadow hadn't stumbled; he'd seen something that forced him to take the sudden spill.
Across the room, in the shelter of the far doorway leading to the hall, was a crouching man who held a
glittering gun.
This was the unidentified newcomer that Harry had heard coming up the stairs. He was waiting, with his
swaying revolver, to shoot at the pair who struggled for the ivory boxes!
CATCHING first sight of the lurking assassin, thanks to the revealing gun gleam, The Shadow had flung
himself aside with double motive.
First, he could gain nothing by staying in the path of fire and making himself a target for stray bullets,
should the gunner prove quick-triggered. Again, by rolling to a different angle, The Shadow, still unseen
in the darkened room, could insert a timely shot if the lurker happened to be deliberate.
Deliberate, this gunner was. Unfortunately, another man was already taking advantage of that fact. The
new factor was The Shadow's own agent, Harry Vincent. Coming down from the fifth floor, Harry had
spotted the open door, and upon reaching it, caught instant sight of the revolver that shone from a waiting
hand.
Harry lunged for the assassin, blocking the aim that The Shadow was taking with an automatic. Quick as
a whippet, the crouched man slapped the door Harry's way. The Shadow's agent took it head-on. Then
two grapplers were blundering straight upon the assassin, cutting off The Shadow's aim entirely.
A gun spoke, muffled, and the grapplers broke. One sprawled, and his weight met Harry's receiving
arms. Through the connecting doorway, the flashes of the electric sign played upon the dying face of the
shirt-sleeved victim, as Harry voiced the name:
"Talbor!"
The others were not waiting. They were out through the doorway, racing down the hall, Glenlake
carrying the ivory boxes, trying to outrace the killer behind him. It wasn't a race for life on Glenlake's
part; it was a dash for wealth. He hadn't seen the assassin's face, but he could picture it as belonging to
one of three: Trevose, Philmont or Harlingen.
Glenlake preferred to keep his own identity unknown. He wanted the nest of ivory boxes and their
priceless ruby all for himself. Not hearing shots behind him, Glenlake was sure that his pursuer preferred
to overtake him and learn who he was. So he used that fact to his own advantage.
Reaching the stairway, he plunged downward recklessly, on the chance that he could shake the man
behind him.
The Shadow, meanwhile, was on his feet again and wrenching Harry from the doorway, out into the hall.
There was no time to listen while Talbor phrased dying gasps. Whatever Talbor could tell, so could the
two men who had fled. Nor did The Shadow want Harry to become involved in the investigation of
Talbor's death.
So he hauled his agent with him, and as they reached the stairway, The Shadow gave Harry an upward
shove and an order to get back to his room. Then The Shadow, personally, would take up the chase of
the men whose footsteps were pounding the stairs below.
It was too late for such strategy. The clang of an elevator door announced arrivals who had heard the
shots. From the corner appeared the excited clerk and the elevator operator, both soon enough to see
The Shadow thrusting Harry away. Waving a cheap revolver, the clerk shouted:
"There they are!"
Right then, The Shadow did a surprising thing. He grabbed at Harry, hauled his agent full about in a tight
grip that swayed them half across the hall. Out of that grapple, The Shadow's arm appeared; his hand
drove its heavy automatic hard for Harry's skull.
Harry felt the blow enough to daze him, but no more, for The Shadow pulled it deftly. Then, pitching
Harry into the clerk's path, The Shadow was away, loping for the stairs, bound upon his original quest of
overtaking two men of crime who had separately indulged in robbery and murder.
Shots blasted after the evasive shape in black. Wild shots, from the clerk's gun. They missed The
Shadow literally by yards, for the clerk was stumbling over Harry while aiming for The Shadow.
A strange laugh floated back, and Harry, hearing it, not only knew that his chief was in the clear, but
recognized the part that he, personally, was to play.
AT the bottom of the stairs, The Shadow cut through the deserted passage to the rear street, where he
caught a view of a corner, half a block away. There, by the flitting glow of the electric sign, he saw
Wilbur Glenlake. Though the burly man was too distant for his face to be distinguished, his actions were
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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：70 页 大小：461.21KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-23

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