NEW glimmers blinked as The Shadow neared a long, low, lighted tent. The Shadow avoided them by raising the canvas. He glided inward and came up behind a row of trunks and boxes.
These were set across the end of the tent. The curve of the canvas wall produced a space between the trunks and the end of the tent. Thus The Shadow was totally concealed as he listened to voices from the other side of the trunks.
Clowns were making up. They were talking among themselves as they painted their faces in front of mirrors that were attached to trunks and boxes. Then came an interruption. It was the voice of Stuffy Dowson:
“Hey there, Koko.”
“Hi there, Stuffy,” responded a chuckling voice. It was “Koko” Thoden, the chief clown. “What’s on your mind, my boy?”
“All your gang here?”
“All presented and discounted for,” kidded Koko.
“All right,” returned Stuffy. “Keep ‘em all on the lot after the show.”
A buzz began as soon as Stuffy had gone. Mumbles included mention of the sheriff; then the posse; finally someone spoke of “bank robbers.” It was plain that the clowns had guessed the reason for the quarantine.
“Say, gang.” The buzz stopped as Koko spoke. “Maybe that yap with the tin star does have the idea that some safe crackers are hiding out with this show. All right. If he does, let’s kid him. I’ve got a stunt that I’ve been holding back. This would be a good time to pull it.”
“Let’s hear it, Koko,” came an eager chorus.
“You know that old dummy safe we used to use?” questioned Koko. “Well — a couple of you fellows dig it out. Have it ready while Lucille is doing the aerial act. That’s when we come in.”
“While they’re setting up the big cage.”
“Right. Go ahead and do your regular stuff. Then four of you put on bandanna handkerchiefs for masks and get ready to run the safe down in front of the main ring.”
“What about you, Koko?”
“I’ll be by the safe. I’ll give you the word when to start with it. Then I’ll follow you, with a couple of guns.”
“Goin’ to wear a tin star, Koko?”
“No. I’ve got a better gag than that.” Koko arose and unlocked a drawer of his trunk. “Did you fellows ever hear of The Shadow?”
“Sure. We’ve read about him. He’s the bird with the creepy laugh. Goes around in a black cloak and hat. Shoots down crooks.”
“You’ve got it right,” declared Koko, as he opened the drawer. “Well, gang, take a look at this layout.”
“Say!” came an exclamation. “Ain’t that a daisy. You’ve got a black cloak — a hat — even a pair of gloves. What’ll you be, Koko? The Shadow?”
“You guessed it,” affirmed Koko. “I’ll duck out while you boys are clowning. I’ll put on this rig and come back to the runway. Have the safe ready.”
“You’ll have to work quick, Koko. They won’t hold up Wernoff’s act just for us.”
“That won’t matter. You fellows keep on lifting the safe and setting it down whenever I come close to you. I won’t do any shooting until we get in front of the boxes.
“If they turn out the regular lights and throw the spot of Wernoff’s cage before we get in front of the boxes, just set down the safe and stick where you are. I’ll wait with you.
“Then as soon as the cat act finishes and the lights come on, we’ll pick up where we left off. That way we won’t have to cut any of our regular stunts. Got the idea?”
“Sure thing, Koko.”
A call came from the front of the tent. Clowns sprang to their feet and finished their make-up. They jogged forth toward the big top, ready to begin their first array of stunts. The big show had begun.
The steamy melody of a calliope came faintly to the emptied tent as a figure arose from behind the row of trunks. The head and shoulders of The Shadow loomed and cast a shaded silhouette upon the opened drawer of Koko’s trunk.
The burning eyes of The Shadow spied the blackened garments that the clown had laid upon a chair. A soft laugh sounded in uncanny tones from the hidden lips beneath those blazing optics.
Koko’s stunt had gained the approval of the clowns. It had won The Shadow’s approval also. Chance had served to aid The Shadow’s plans. Within this very tent, The Shadow would make his first step to counter new and desperate crime.
CHAPTER XIV
SAWDUST AND SHOTS
“THAT’S Lucille Lavan, eh? Boy! Look at the way she balances on that high wire!”
“Best act I’ve ever seen.”
The speakers were two deputies, sitting beside Sheriff Howard. Their comments brought a growl from their chief. He and the squatty bank watchman were watching the rings — not the high wire.
“We’re looking for some tough guys,” the sheriff informed his deputies. “You won’t see ‘em up there at the top of the tent. Keep your eyes down.”
“All right, chief.”
The sheriff turned to the watchman beside him. The squatty man needed no injunction. His one purpose here was the identification of the robbers. He seemed determined to complete it.
“See any suspects?” questioned the sheriff.
“Not one,” returned the watchman, soberly. “I could tell any of the five, sheriff. I saw them clearly when they made their get-away.”
“Too bad you didn’t shoot a couple of them.”
“I was excited, sheriff. I saw them unexpectedly while they were escaping. But tonight” — the man shifted his hand to his pocket — “I’m ready to help you when we see them.”
“If we see them,” returned the sheriff ruefully. “It looks like we’ll have to search the grounds after this show is over. There’s been a lot of faces out there; but you haven’t picked even one.”
The sheriff’s sentence ended just as an outburst of applause came from the small audience. Lucille Lavan had completed her act. Dropping from the high wire, the slim girl landed in a net. Her red hair formed an attractive, tousled mass as she bobbed her head to the plaudits of the crowd.
As Lucille walked from the ring, shouts arose and a flock of clowns came bounding along the track. The spectators began to laugh at their capers — all except the sheriff and the bank watchman. The sheriff’s face was steady; the watchman studied every clown without a smile. He was looking for the robbers in this band of funmakers.
“Say,” growled the sheriff. “If those robbers are working as clowns, it’s going to be tough to spot them. You couldn’t recognize your own uncle in back of a lot of paint like that. If we don’t see the birds we want, the first bunch we’ll look over after the show will be the clowns.”
The watchman nodded. He was forced to admit that the painted makeup made it impossible for him to view the clowns successfully. Yet he persisted in watching their merry-making. He was studying the gait of different clowns, trying to find some token of identity that might enable him to pick a rogue from among them.
ROUGHNECKS were rolling in the big cage. Then came the smaller cages, with the lions, tigers and leopards. Eric Wernoff appeared; he was greeted by applause. While attendants aided him, he saw to the opening of cages.
One by one, the growling “cats” responded to his prods. Armed with sticks and gun, Wernoff was forcing his dangerous pets through doors from small cages to large.
This work completed, the smaller cages were wheeled away. Wernoff, stern-faced and imposing, was ready to enter the big cage. He was eying Ganges while he waited. The big tiger, usually defiant, was acting in subdued fashion — something that Wernoff could not understand.
Cavorting clowns were finishing their stunts. They were scamping along the track, getting out of the way before the animal act commenced. The spectators were already forgetting them. The ring master was waiting to make his introduction.