Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 212 - The Shadow,the Hawk and the Skull

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THE SHADOW, THE HAWK AND THE
SKULL
Maxwell Grant
This page copyright © 2001 Blackmask Online.
http://www.blackmask.com
? CHAPTER I
? CHAPTER II. FORGOTTEN TRAILS
? CHAPTER III. CRIME'S SECOND ACE
? CHAPTER IV. THE WAY OF THE SKULL
? CHAPTER V. TRAILS TO COME
? CHAPTER VI. HEADS OR TAILS
? CHAPTER VII. VISITORS BY NIGHT
? CHAPTER VIII. DUEL OF DARKNESS
? CHAPTER IX. MURDER BY MISTAKE
? CHAPTER X. THE SHADOW'S PLAN
? CHAPTER XI. THE HAWK CONSIDERS
? CHAPTER XII. THE WAY OF THE HAWK
? CHAPTER XIII. A QUESTION OF PAIRS
? CHAPTER XIV. CRIME STANDS REVOKED
? CHAPTER XV. IN TWO CAMPS
? CHAPTER XVI. THE NEXT INVITATION
? CHAPTER XVII. THE WOMAN IN THE CASE
? CHAPTER XVIII. DIVIDED BATTLE
? CHAPTER XIX. GREAT BRAINS COMBINE
? CHAPTER XX. THE DOUBLE STROKE
? CHAPTER XXI. THE WAY OF THE SHADOW
CHAPTER I
IT was almost half past five on a Thursday afternoon. The clerks in Montelard's large jewelry store were
waiting for the place to close, at six.
Most of them were staring idly toward the windows that fronted on the avenue, watching Manhattan's
home-going traffic.
One clerk, however, was quite busy. He was a dapper man named Lane, and he had a customer who
was looking over diamond bracelets.
The customer was a man of about thirty, who had the look of an aristocrat. His nose was high-bridged,
his jaw sharp. His eyes glittered as they viewed the diamonds, indicating that he appreciated good gems
when he saw them.
"These are very fine," confided Lane, pointing to three bracelets. "They came from the Torrington
Collection, which will not be officially displayed until tomorrow."
Pausing, Lane looked beyond the sharp-faced man, to another counter, where a girl was examining some
trinkets. She was a very attractive girl, with well-molded features and brown hair. Lane had seen her
enter with the sharp-faced man.
"The young lady would like them," smiled the clerk. "That is, I am sure she will like whichever one you
choose. Of course, the price runs into thousands -"
Catching a smile from his customer, Lane decided that price was not the question. Promptly, the clerk
brought another tray from beneath the counter. This well-dressed man was obviously a spender. Lane
could tell it at a glance.
The fresh tray had more diamonds from the Torrington Collection. Fingering the price tags, Lane
remarked that diamonds had gone very high in price; in fact, that was why the Torrington gems had been
sacrificed. But the clerk was equally insistent that the market would still remain high; that if diamonds
changed at all, they would increase in value.
"So you see," concluded the clerk, brightly, "it is just a question of which bracelet you prefer."
"I like them all," spoke the customer, dryly. "But since it seems to be an issue"——his hand was moving
among the bracelets——"I prefer - this!"
His finger pointed, not to the bracelets but to an object that lay among them. Lane stared; his breath
became a gasp. The thing to which the customer pointed was a large bird's feather. A hawk's feather!
From the clerk's open lips came the name:
"The Hawk!"
THERE was a flood of thoughts behind Lane's blurt. All New York had heard of the Hawk; lone ace of
crime. His arrival had been recent, but his deeds swift. Four times in the past week, the Hawk had
swooped, staging robberies both sudden and profitable.
No one knew who the Hawk was. But he had left his token on the scene of every crime, a hawk's
feather, like the one that now lay amid the tray of glittering diamond bracelets on Lane's corner counter!
A sudden hope gripped the horrified clerk. The feather might have been dropped by an earlier customer,
who had found it unwise to go through with robbery. The prosperous young man who now faced Lane
might not be the Hawk.
Warily, the clerk looked up, but at the same time, his trembling hand crept along the counter, ready to
dip for the alarm switch just beneath.
The customer was smiling sardonically. He had drawn a platinum cigarette case from his pocket and was
opening it. Coolly, he extracted a cigarette, placed it between his tight lips. With his other hand, he
brought a lighter from his vest pocket, while he was dropping the cigarette case back into his coat.
In that sharp-featured smile, Lane saw the answer. This customer was the Hawk. Curiously, however,
the Hawk's glittery gaze was looking beyond the clerk, toward a clock on the wall behind the counter.
The clock registered exactly half past five.
Lane wasn't thinking about the clock. He didn't even realize that the Hawk was looking at it. All that
Lane recognized was his own opportunity to frustrate crime. He shot his hand for the alarm switch.
Even before Lane's fingers reached the switch, a great clang sounded.
The whole jewelry store reverberated with the alarm. Half startled, the clerk recoiled; but the Hawk was
quite unperturbed. He had wanted Lane to make that desperate move.
It meant that the fellow's head would be turned away.
With the same nonchalance with which he had produced the cigarette case; the Hawk was drawing
another object from his pocket. This time, his hand gave a short, swift whip when it emerged. The thing in
the Hawk's hand was a blackjack; he tapped the padded instrument behind Lane's ear.
In that expert stroke, the Hawk's hand traveled less than a dozen inches. He had picked the moment
when his victim was partly stooped, with head half turned away.
Lane plummeted behind the counter, like a figure disappearing from a Punch and Judy show. In falling,
the stunned clerk never managed to touch the alarm switch.
It made no difference. The alarm was already operating at full blast, its clangor echoing throughout the
jewelry store, where clerks were still staring from the windows or idly rearranging their counters.
Two things——an actual robbery and the blatant alarm——had failed to disturb the routine in
Montelard's. The Hawk might as well have done his work among men who were both blind and deaf!
The blackjack was back in the Hawk's pocket. His hands were deftly plucking diamond bracelets from
the trays, dropping them into pockets, too. The debonair crook had already picked the spoils he wanted,
while examining the bracelets.
He was taking those of greatest value——the gems from the Torrington Collection. From his swift
fingers, the sparkling objects slithered into his pockets like glittery snakes seeking hiding places.
It was all the work of a dozen seconds, while the brazen alarm kept up its strident clatter. The Hawk
topped his job by adding a few extra pieces of jewelry that were well encrusted with diamonds.
Then, as if in afterthought, he chose a cheaper bracelet that was lying in an open jewel case. His side
pockets already filled, the Hawk simply clamped the jewel case shut and stowed it in his inside pocket.
As he turned abruptly from the counter, the Hawk's sharp face showed its first trace of worriment; but
the expression was a pretense. The Hawk used it for the benefit of a floorwalker, who was standing
some twenty feet away. Approaching the man, the Hawk tapped him on the shoulder and inquired, with a
trace of excitement:
"What has happened? Has there been a robbery?"
The floorwalker smiled indulgently, as he shook his head.
"It's five thirty," he explained. "Every Thursday, at this time, we test the alarms. A rule of the firm, and a
wise one -"
THE final words sounded like a shout, for the alarm stopped while the floorwalker was speaking loudly,
so that the Hawk could hear.
With murmured thanks for the information, the Hawk stepped toward the trinket counter, where the
brown-haired girl was waiting. The half-minute discordance of the loud alarm had frightened her. Now
that the noise was ended, she still trembled as she gripped The Hawk's arm.
"What was it, Carl?" she queried. "What has happened?"
"Only a test of the alarms," explained the Hawk. "The floorwalker just told me. Now that we've had our
thrill, it's time that we thought about dinner. I reserved a table, and said we would be there by half past
six. We shall need considerable time, in order to get to the theater, later."
Together, the Hawk and the brunette reached the dusk-laden street. Glancing about, the debonair man
spied a cab parked a short way down the avenue and suggested that they take it, as it was the front cab
in a line. At that moment, the girl gripped his arm again.
"My magazines!" she exclaimed. "I left them on the trinket counter. We can go back and get them."
She was turning toward the entrance of the jewelry store, but the Hawk, turning also, let his sharp gaze
travel farther than the trinket counter.
He saw the floorwalker staring toward the inner corner where the bracelets were on sale. The man was
evidently wondering why the clerk had left open trays on the counter. As Lenore stepped toward the
store, the floorwalker moved toward the inner corner.
The Hawk gripped the girl's arm. His voice had a sharpness that he could not conceal.
"Never mind the magazines, Lenore," he said. "They would only be a nuisance. We can buy others, after
the show. Come! We don't want to lose our cab."
His grip was hard, like his tone. It amazed Lenore, as she was turned about and started toward the cab.
Evidently, she had never before noted such traits in this man she called Carl. Her eyes, which could be
mistaken for jet-black, showed a violet sparkle as they widened. Her face set firmly as they reached the
cab.
"Why the hurry, Carl?" Lenore demanded, as the Hawk yanked the cab door open. "I want those
magazines, and I'm going back to get them."
"Take this instead." With a quick move, the Hawk drew the jewel case from his inside pocket and thrust
it into the girl's gloved hands. "It's a present that I bought you. I'd rather you looked at it, while we were
in the cab."
There was a hiss to the Hawk's tone, as betraying as its previous sharpness. To Lenore, his suavity had
become a mere gloss. She tried to press the jewel case back into his hand; at the same time, she resisted
his effort to thrust her into the cab. Momentarily, her eyes went wide again, as she saw an excited clerk
rush from Montelard's and stare along the street.
The Hawk caught the look in Lenore's eyes. Another cab was nosing in behind the one he wanted. It had
just shot from traffic, and its shrewd-faced driver had spotted the altercation between the Hawk and
Lenore. Instantly, the crook demonstrated the speed that had made him famous.
From his hip pocket, he pulled a small revolver, so deftly that Lenore caught only a momentary glitter
before the weapon was planted against her breast. As the girl gave a frightened gasp, the Hawk pushed
her into the cab and flung the jewel case into her hands.
To the driver, the Hawk snapped the order:
"Take this lady to Grand Central. Hurry! She has to catch a train!"
Lenore's half shriek was drowned by the rattle of the cab's self-starter. She saw the fate that the Hawk
intended for her. He was still pressing the gun close to her heart, his finger tightening upon the trigger. His
other hand was upon the cab door, ready to slam it when he delivered the death shot.
What Lenore could not see was the cab that had cut in from the street. Its door had flung open and a
black-cloaked figure was springing from it. Dusk, itself, would have hidden that shrouded shape, but
lights from store fronts made the form visible. The newcomer's face, alone, was unseen. But his eyes had
a burn from beneath the brim of a slouch hat.
Hidden lips uttered a low, taunting laugh as the black-clad stranger launched forward like a human
rocket. The Hawk heard that mocking challenge; it stayed the killer's trigger finger. He needed his first
shot for someone other than Lenore; he needed it for this challenger, who had sprung in to save the
defenseless girl.
As the Hawk whipped about, he saw the cloaked form full upon him. Ducking the swing of a heavy,
automatic in a black-gloved fist, the Hawk made a grapple for his challenger. The hiss that the Hawk
delivered blended with the fierce laugh of the cloaked attacker.
The Hawk, lone hand of crime, had met The Shadow, master of justice!
CHAPTER II. FORGOTTEN TRAILS
TO Lenore, that encounter on the sidewalk was an episode of incredible swiftness. In it, the man called
Carl lived up to his cognomen of the Hawk. But the other fighter, The Shadow, had all the manner of an
eagle.
Their fray did not belong to solid ground. Its speed made it seem a battle between two sky birds, darting
amid clouds.
The Hawk's attack was savage. It actually flung The Shadow full about, sent him scaling against the front
of the cab. But there was method behind The Shadow's partial sprawl. He not only wanted to draw
danger from Lenore; he was avoiding the jab of the Hawk's gun.
With the same clever twist that had enabled him to dodge The Shadow's swing, the Hawk inserted a
shot; but by then, The Shadow was away. He was coming up again, from beside the cab's front fender,
bringing his own gun muzzle first. Had the Hawk tried to aim, he would have been too late. Instead, the
Hawk lunged.
This time, it was The Shadow's gun that blasted, its bullet whining past the Hawk's ear. Bodies met in
another grapple, that sent them reeling farther along the curb. Into that struggle, The Shadow injected a
laugh that was anything but music to the Hawk.
The jewel thief had to win. A draw would result in his capture. Already, the street was alive with shouts;
men were rushing madly from Montelard's store. Twisting, the Hawk tried to get from The Shadow's
clutch——and chance aided him. The two tripped over a fire hydrant and bashed against a big
waste-paper can beyond it.
There was a clatter, and a double sprawl. The trash container rolled like a living thing, forming a
temporary barrier between the fighters. Instead of turning about to shoot at The Shadow, the Hawk
dived for the doorway of an empty store, a short way from Montelard's.
Therewith, The Shadow did a surprising thing. Instead of leaping over the metal container, he lurched it
ahead of him and sent it bounding toward the doorway. Flattening on the sidewalk, The Shadow
expected a quick shot from the Hawk.
Instead of one shot, three came. The Hawk was through the doorway; other men were covering for him.
Their bullets riddled the metal target that The Shadow had flung their way. Diving to a new angle, The
Shadow answered the fire. Untouched by the high-aimed bullets, he was prepared to settle the cover-up
crew, if they ventured forth.
Though he performed his actual crimes alone, the Hawk had hired lesser crooks to cover any emergency
flight. Those shots from the empty store told why the Hawk had been ready to murder Lenore in the very
cab which he had originally picked for his own getaway.
Gunfire ended as quickly as it had begun. The cover-up men were too wary. They had followed the
Hawk along the route through the empty store. They were baiting The Shadow, for they would certainly
be waiting in another doorway, at the rear, if he followed. They would not linger long, but even a few
minutes would assure the Hawk of a getaway.
That was one reason why The Shadow did not follow. He wanted the Hawk, not merely some hirelings,
who probably could not tell him where the lone crook had gone. But there was another reason why The
Shadow preferred to ignore the trail. Things were happening in Lenore's taxicab.
Clerks from Montelard's had found the girl. They were dragging her to the sidewalk. One had snatched
the jewel case that she held, displaying it as evidence that she was working with the Hawk. Another was
running to the corner, beckoning to an arriving police car, which had its siren going at full blast.
Only The Shadow could testify in Lenore's behalf, because the driver of the girl's cab had seen nothing
up to the time of the commotion. But The Shadow, himself, was in no situation to explain matters.
Already, befuddled witnesses were pointing at him, as though identifying The Shadow as the crook. They
were people who had run up too late to see the Hawk's dive for the doorway.
Such mistakes weren't new to The Shadow. He handled this case in accustomed style. With the same
mocking laugh that had startled the Hawk, he bore down upon the throng by the cab, brandishing his big
automatic. Men scattered like chaff, except for one frozen clerk who still gripped Lenore.
Seizing the fellow, The Shadow bowled him at the rest; then, flinging the girl into the cab, he finished his
sweep by planting his gun against the neck of the huddled driver, with the command:
"Get going!"
THE cab "got going." From the desperate way the driver handled it, The Shadow recognized that the
fellow wasn't working with the Hawk. This was just a chance cab that the expert gem thief had picked.
Lenore seemed to understand it, too, along with the fact that The Shadow was a friend, who was
carrying her not only to safety, but away from a dilemma that would be hard for her to explain.
The Shadow was guiding the cabby with nudges of his gun. It seemed that the cold muzzle of the .45 was
handling the steering wheel. Darting a look through the rear window, Lenore could see another cab in
pursuit, leading police cars that could be recognized by their sirens.
Then the pursuing cab was gaining, but the wails of the police cars had trailed away. Before Lenore could
tell The Shadow that only one of the following cars remained, she heard his whispered laugh.
He spoke to the driver, directing him to the curb. There, as the cab stopped, the man in front sank
cowering, his hands above his head.
"Stay as you are!"
With those words to the driver, The Shadow opened the cab door. Lenore was unresisting as he drew
her along. To her surprise, the trailing car had stopped, too, and The Shadow was taking her toward it.
A few moments later they were in the cab, and it was turning toward an alleyway at The Shadow's order.
This was the cab in which The Shadow had arrived at Montelard's. Lenore realized that it must be The
Shadow's own. With a sigh, she turned toward her cloaked rescuer, saw the burn of eyes reflected from
the glow of passing street lights. Then came a steady tone, more of an order than a query:
"Your name -"
"Lenore Meldon," the girl replied. "I... I hadn't anything to do with what happened. I didn't know that
Carl was the Hawk."
"Carl -"
"Carl Tournay," completed Lenore. "I met him in Europe, a few years ago. Only last week he called me
up, to tell me that he was in New York. He invited me to dinner this evening and suggested that we meet
early, outside of Montelard's -"
The girl stopped suddenly. The Shadow caught the violet sparkle of her eyes, as they opened wide.
"Carl said to meet him before half past five!" Lenore exclaimed. "Why, he must have known that they
tested those alarms on Thursday afternoons! He timed the robbery!"
Lenore heard The Shadow's whispered laugh; so significant that it brought other facts to her mind. She
realized that the Hawk must have planned other things besides the timing of the crime. Lenore had a
recollection of his bulging pockets, proof that he had filled them with other gems than the few he had
thrust upon her.
What she couldn't understand was why the Hawk had taken her upon the expedition. Sensing the girl's
puzzlement, The Shadow explained.
"According to reports from Europe," spoke The Shadow, steadily, "the Hawk forces persons, to become
his accomplices; by involving them in crime. He has most persuasive ways of threatening them."
Lenore began to nod. She could picture what would have happened, had she taken a cab ride with the
Hawk instead of going with The Shadow. Carl Tournay had smooth, convincing ways, and might have
argued her into believing that she was too deeply implicated in crime to make any protest.
"And when persons refuse to become accomplices," The Shadow added quietly, "the Hawk disposes of
them."
It had been almost true in Lenore's case. But for The Shadow's arrival, she would have been found dead
in the cab where the Hawk had placed her, with evidence of complicity upon her. The jewel case which
he had made her take had been enough to bring people on her trail, instead of the Hawk's.
A tremor shook Lenore as she thought of future consequences, should she meet the Hawk again.
The Shadow observed the girl's emotion. His calm tone reassured her.
"While under my protection," he declared, "you need not fear the Hawk. But if you wish the protection to
continue, you must accept my advice."
LENORE was eager to accept it. So eager, that she began giving information which she felt would help.
She told her new friend that, at present, she was alone in New York, living at a hotel; that her family was
in California and did not expect to hear from her for some time. The situation suited The Shadow.
"This cab will take you to another hotel," he said, "where you can register under a different name. Do not
worry about your luggage. It will reach you. Simply forget that you are the mystery woman in a jewelry
robbery."
"While you find the Hawk!" exclaimed Lenore. "If I could only help!"
"It would be too dangerous, at first," returned The Shadow. Then, in his strangely level tone, he added:
"But if you are anxious to aid me in another way, I have a mission -"
He paused. Eagerly, Lenore grasped the opportunity.
"I'll help in any way I can," she assured. "Tell me where I am to go, what I am to do -"
"You will learn, when the time comes," interposed The Shadow.
"Until then, remain calm. It will not be long before I shall call upon you."
The cab was rolling through Central Park. The darkness had thickened and Lenore could scarcely see
the figure beside her, until The Shadow leaned forward. Even then, he was scarcely more than a vague
shape, as he spoke something to the driver, who nodded.
With a sharp veer, the cab took to a byway, and jammed to a stop when it neared a drive where traffic
was heavy. Lenore was thrown forward; she caught herself against the seat in front. The cab snapped
forward, but as Lenore bounced back she wasn't conscious of the slight slam of the door on the far side
of the cab.
As they wheeled into brighter lights, the girl looked for The Shadow, and gave a bewildered blink when
she observed an empty seat beside her. Like a part of the night itself, her companion had vanished.
Gone, like a shadow! But as the cab drove ahead, Lenore Meldon could have sworn that she heard the
fading tone of a parting laugh from the darkness behind the cab. Perhaps it was just an echo stirred by
her fancy; but she believed it real.
To Lenore, that throb of mirth was more than assurance of The Shadow's protection. It was her cloaked
friend's promise that she would have a chance to show her gratitude for the rescue that he had provided.
Fear of the Hawk's revenge seemed trivial, compared to the thrill of Lenore's coming service with The
Shadow!
CHAPTER III. CRIME'S SECOND ACE
FROM the window of her new hotel room, Lenore Meldon was watching the twinkle of Manhattan's
lights. To her eyes, the glow was becoming a monotonous blur, as her lips repeated the single word:
"Soon."
The girl was thinking of The Shadow's promise. So far, his methods had been like clockwork. Lenore
had registered at her present hotel, using the simple expedient of changing "Lenore" to "Eleanor" and
"Meldon" to "Martin," producing a name that was easy to remember.
Her trunks had been delivered within an hour after her arrival, and the night had proven uneventful.
Morning had jarred her somewhat, when she read the newspaper delivered at her door, for she had
learned the full details of the Montelard robbery. But even Lane's description of the Hawk was vague,
and the one that people gave of Lenore was necessarily a poor one.
No one had seen her closely, and the consensus described her as a definite brunette, with deep-brown
eyes and very dark hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, Lenore fluffed her hair and opened her violet
eyes wide, with the result that she veered closer to a blonde than a brunette. The result was a smile of
reassurance from her own reflection.
The day, however, had been deadly. Lenore had gone downstairs for meals, but did not leave the hotel.
She had whiled away the dragging hours by thinking about The Shadow, and at last she understood the
reason for his timely arrival at Montelard's.
The Shadow had not been trailing the Hawk. If he had, he certainly would have arrived at the jewelry
store sooner. The thing that brought him was the little matter of the Torrington gems, mentioned in the
newspaper. Of that, Lenore was sure.
Those diamonds hadn't been intended for display until today, which happened to be Friday. The Shadow
had simply stopped by in advance, to look over the jewelry store. The Hawk had come before him, but
not through any insight or special information.
Carl Tournay had simply played a long shot because his prearranged scheme of crime called for action
on Thursday, only. Rather than wait a full week, the Hawk had followed his hunch.
If he hadn't found the Torrington bracelets, the Hawk would not have shown his hand. The mere thought
gave Lenore the shudders. Being in hiding wasn't any plight at all, compared to trusting the Hawk and
staying in his company, which was exactly what she would have done had he postponed his crime.
It was evening, now, and as Lenore repeated the word "soon," she closed her eyes in hope that
blackness might bring The Shadow. The effect was remarkable. The moment that the outside lights had
gone from sight, Lenore heard a knock at the door.
She answered eagerly, proof that her nerves were steady, for she hadn't the slightest fear that she would
find the Hawk, instead of The Shadow. As a matter of fact, she met neither when she opened the door.
A bellboy was in the hall, holding an envelope.
Lenore tipped the bellboy and took the message. When she opened the envelope, she found another
inside. On it was written the brief order:
Read the note carefully the first time.
Before Lenore could wonder over the instructions, she understood the reason. The writing on the
envelope obliterated itself. Evidently the message, also, was written in a special ink that would vanish.
Hence the "first time" that Lenore read it would be the only time.
Opening the blank envelope, she read the message slowly and carefully, so that every word came home.
She had just finished when the words began to disappear; wiping themselves away in progression, as
though touched by an invisible hand. But Lenore's lips moved, their whisper proving that she had read the
instructions in full.
"I am to call on Alexander Fildrick," Lenore mused. "He is the executor of the Wardron Estate. Two
years ago, he paid the heirs one hundred thousand dollars, claiming that he had sold a diamond necklace
left in his care.
"The necklace is now worth nearly three times that amount, but it has not appeared upon the market. Yet
Alexander Fildrick recently wrote to the Countess del Oro, stating that she could have the necklace for a
quarter million dollars."
LENORE came from her reverie. The facts were plain. Fildrick, foreseeing a rise in the diamond market,
had faked a sale of the necklace, paying his own money to the Wardron heirs. As matters stood, the
executor was ready to complete a swindle scheme that would net him a profit of one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars.
The Shadow had learned of the game, and was out to defeat it. That was why he needed Lenore, for the
note had added more. It contained the statement that the Countess del Oro had been "advised" to leave
early on a trip to South America without informing Alexander Fildrick. Since the high-toned swindler had
never met the countess, Lenore was to appear in her stead.
Stepping to the mirror, Lenore reversed her procedure of the afternoon: The Countess del Oro was
Spanish, hence Fildrick would picture her as a pronounced brunette. Doing her hair smoothly and plainly,
Lenore gave it the proper Spanish touch. The addition of perfumed oil produced a glisten that heightened
the effect.
Next, she applied mascara to her lashes, and when she half closed her eyelids in a languorous manner,
the result was perfect. Not only was the pose correct; Lenore's eyes had taken on the blackish hue that
had caused people to describe her as a pronounced brunette.
The one trouble was that she might be mistaken for herself; namely, as the mystery woman of the
Montelard robbery. But that was nothing to worry about, since Lenore was to go directly to Fildrick's
office by cab, and he would certainly not suppose that the Countess del Oro had been the so-called
accomplice of the notorious crook known as the Hawk.
During her ride to the old, secluded building where Fildrick had his office, Lenore felt only one regret.
She was sorry that The Shadow had assigned her to such a simple task. True, it would require some
finesse, but it was small repayment for the everlasting service that The Shadow had rendered Lenore.
So Lenore thought, forgetting that any foray against crime might result in startling adventure. On that
point, she was to learn a harrowing lesson, before her task was completed.
The girl studied the building when she stepped from the cab. It wasn't much to look at, except as a curio.
Accustomed to Manhattan's skyscrapers, Lenore hadn't realized that the metropolis still had its crop of
antiquated buildings.
This one, a squatty thing of brick, was only five stories high, and the names of its occupants were posted
on a weather-beaten sign outside the entrance.
Even the elevator wasn't running, but Fildrick's office was only on the third floor, so Lenore used the
creaky stairs. She came to the lighted door that bore Fildrick's name and paused there, mentally
repeating the note's final instructions.
She was to hedge with Fildrick, until he actually produced the necklace. Then, near the window of his
office, she was to give the simplest and most natural of signals. She was to light a cigarette, using a lighter
that gave trouble.
Most lighters did give trouble, and Lenore had one of the sort. She had used it to light a cigarette while
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THESHADOW,THEHAWKANDTHESKULLMaxwellGrantThispagecopyright©2001BlackmaskOnline.http://www.blackmask.com?CHAPTERI?CHAPTERII.FORGOTTENTRAILS?CHAPTERIII.CRIME'SSECONDACE?CHAPTERIV.THEWAYOFTHESKULL?CHAPTERV.TRAILSTOCOME?CHAPTERVI.HEADSORTAILS?CHAPTERVII.VISITORSBYNIGHT?CHAPTERVIII.DUELOFDARKNESS?CHAPTERI...

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