CLIFF suddenly realized why his acceptance into the band had been a prompt one. Cleed’s platform was next to Luke’s. Thus Croaker Zinn, disguised by his pasty face, had looked Cliff over and passed the word of approval to Luke.
“The Feds are watching all right,” came Croaker’s growl. “They grabbed The Solvas like they did the other saps that we used for blinds. That makes the third grab.”
“The Solvas can’t tell ‘em nothing,” put in Luke. “I don’t see how it hurts us. Leave a note for another sucker, with one of those phony dollar bills. How about one of the guys on the Ferris wheel?”
“We’ve got to quit shoving the queer,” decided Croaker. “The Feds ain’t dumb, like dicks. Getting the same story from three people will show them that there’s something bigger than they thought.
“We’re laying off on the queer until I talk it over with the big shot. The vacation won’t hurt anybody. We’ll wait a while. That’s all.”
“But you’ve got to keep on feeding dough to your gorillas,” protested Luke. “Sending real mazuma around the circle ain’t going to please the big shot while he’s got nothing coming in. I know he’s letting you handle the mob so he don’t have to look like he’s with it; but he didn’t pin any medal on you the last time you quit shoving the queer.”
“No?” questioned Croaker. “Well, guess again, Luke. I’m handling things with the big shot. I’m close to him. We figured this would be coming. We’ve got something else beside the queer. Listen — these gorillas that are working as roughnecks ain’t just ornaments. It’s going to be their turn while we’re laying off the queer.”
“You know the password — both of you. The one I told you to keep until you needed it. Well, I’ll tell you when to start it. When it goes round the circle, there’ll be five gorillas who will know what to do. Neither of you know the game that I’ve been holding up my sleeve. It’s just as well you didn’t.
“We don’t have to shove the queer. This new gag will do the business. You’ll get my tip in a couple of nights, Luke. Pass it to Marxia; then both of you shoot the word along. We’ll pull in as much dough as we’ve been getting with the queer.”
Croaker arose. He reached for the light. Cliff Marsland wriggled away from the tent as Luke began to ask some question. Cliff was almost back to the truck when the light went out. He gained his objective and waited there.
A sound came to Cliff’s ears. The Shadow’s agent fancied that he heard someone moving near the truck. Was it a spy, sent around the cordon, to make sure that all the watchers had remained at their posts? As Cliff listened, the creeping ceased. Then came a flashlight, blinking toward the truck.
“Are you there?”
It was Hank’s voice. Cliff grunted an affirmative response and received a growled order to move along. Hank went on his way. Cliff realized that Hank had been watching the light in the tent. He had allowed time for the occupants to move out; then he had come to disperse the watchers.
LUKE and Marxia, with Cleed — otherwise Croaker — were waiting somewhere in the darkness. With the cordon gone, they would sneak back toward the Ten-in-One, unseen by friends as well as enemies. Cliff sauntered off through the darkness, obeying Hank’s injunction.
Heading toward a tent that he occupied with other roughnecks, Cliff stopped suddenly. He was sure that he heard footsteps following his own. He moved along and stopped again; once more, he sensed an echo.
When he reached the tent, Cliff turned on a light and looked around. None of the other roughnecks were here. Empty cots, suitcases and boxes were all that Cliff saw. After a suspicious glance toward the flap that he had closed behind him, Cliff pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. Producing a fountain pen, he wrote a coded message and sealed it in an envelope which he pressed upon the top of a box.
The envelope lay before him as Cliff was putting the pen back in his pocket. A faint rustle showed at the tent flap. Forgetting the envelope, Cliff pounced to the front and thrust his body through the canvas. He seized a moving form and grappled with it.
Catching his antagonist off balance, Cliff whirled the fellow around and sent him sprawling into the tent. Pouncing in, Cliff crouched above the man whom he had captured. He found himself staring into the brownish face of Jubo the Geek!
As Cliff stood ready to resume the attack, the grinning wild man plucked at the sleeve of his jersey. As the garment crept up, Cliff saw a red mark on Jubo’s arm. It was the circle that showed its owner to be one of Croaker’s band.
Cliff pulled up his own sleeve, Jubo saw the tattoo mark. Rising, the geek grinned again as he moved in crouching fashion toward the tent flap. Cliff allowed him to go unmolested. He heard Jubo slink off through the darkness.
Cliff was perturbed. Why had Jubo followed him here? Until this encounter, Cliff had not suspected that Jubo belonged to the crime crew. Cliff’s worry began to increase. It was possible that Jubo had been working as a rover, going the rounds to watch the cordon.
Against this was the fact that Hank had made no provision for such a prowler. Jubo in circling the conference tent, would naturally have been challenged by every one on watch. Then it occurred to Cliff that Jubo might have been another watcher. The geek could have heard Cliff crawling by the truck and followed him to make sure that he was a member of the band.
Cliff smiled. He felt that his red circle had squared him with Jubo, just as the geek’s tattoo mark had made it right with Cliff. That point settled, The Shadow’s agent remembered his important envelope. He swung toward the box; then stopped short.
A hand had raised the side of the tent by the box. An arm was coming inward from solid blackness. Gloved fingers were resting on the envelope. As Cliff watched, the hand moved away, carrying the envelope with it.
The Shadow! Cliff’s chief had come to gain the report prepared for him. He had been waiting to get this message before Cliff left to mail it to New York.
A smile of confidence crept over Cliff’s features as the side of the tent dropped to cover the departing hand. With The Shadow close at hand, Cliff felt ready for any emergency that might arise.
Five minutes later, a swishing sound occurred in a small tent. Then came the clicking of the clasp on a suitcase. A hand pressed the light switch. Zoda, the mind reader, was revealed by the glare. His hands opened an envelope and read an inked message. The writing faded. Zoda tore up the blank sheet.
The Shadow had received Cliff Marsland’s message. He had learned that Cleed and Croaker Zinn were one. He had gained a report of the conference in the tent. Cloak, hat and gloves were packed away. As Zoda, The Shadow was prepared for coming crime.
CHAPTER X
MOBSMEN MOVE
IT was the last night in Burnsville. Business was good in the Ten-in-One. Zoda was working with his newly arranged platform. He was the big attraction in the sideshow. Wearing a turban above his full dress suit, the mind reader was holding the crowd with his marvels.
“Whisper a question to any of your friends,” he told the throng. “Let them be ready to confirm the thought that is in your mind. That is all I ask, as I stand here upon my small platform. Proceed—”
Zoda indicated a lady in the audience. The woman spoke in the ear of a man beside her. A suave smile appeared upon Zoda’s lips, as his eyes met the woman’s gaze.
“That gentleman is your husband, madame,” announced the mind reader. “You mentioned the name of your child and wondered if I could catch the thought. The child is a girl. Her name is Myrtle.”
A buzz passed among the spectators as the woman’s gasp showed that Zoda’s answer had been correct. The mind reader turned to a man who was standing by himself.