In that moment, the sheriff had unwittingly glimpsed two personages, both of whom he would like to have met. One was Zoda, the missing mind reader whom the sheriff sought; the other was The Shadow, who had saved the sheriff’s life.
The sheriff had never dreamed that Zoda and The Shadow could be one; nor did he realize that this keen-eyed observer — who looked like neither Zoda nor The Shadow — was the double personality who had played so stirring a part in the happenings on the circus lot.
Two men were stopping near the spot where The Shadow stood. One was Cliff Marsland; the other was Hank, the pretended roughneck. Hank’s low growl came clearly to The Shadow’s ears.
“Stick by the truck,” the big man was informing Cliff. “Wait until you see the light in the tent. It’s comin’ pretty soon — same as before.”
Cliff nodded. He and Hank were pulling down their left sleeves. In accustomed fashion, they had flashed their red circles. The two men moved away. A smile appeared upon the thin lips of the watching stranger.
The Shadow knew that last night’s battle had not marked the end of crime. New clouds were gathering; further evil was afoot. Again, the might of The Shadow would be needed.
CHAPTER XVI
PLANS FOR CRIME
“WHERE’S Cleed?”
Cap Guffy asked the question as he stood in the Ten-in-One tent. The other freaks and performers were present, clustered about the platform where Baby Liz, the fat lady, sat in solemn state.
When the gang joined in pow-wow, they chose Baby Liz’s platform as a meeting place. It took three men to hoist the fat lady to her platform; once there, she remained. Hence, social gatherings among the freaks were held in her vicinity.
“Cleed?” Luke, the tattooed man, echoed Cap’s question. “I seen him around about twenty minutes ago. Guess he went to his sleeping tent.”
“We’re going to open tonight,” growled Cap. “I hope Cleed ain’t off the lot. With Zoda walking out on me and all—”
“Cleed’s around all right, Cap. How soon are we goin’ to open?”
“In half an hour.”
“I’ll look around for Cleed.”
Luke scrambled from the fat woman’s platform. So did Princess Marxia. Cap beckoned to the snake charmer. He spoke as she strolled along with him toward her pit.
“I’m driving down to the depot,” announced Cap. “They sent word up about that crate of rattlers. They came in this afternoon.”
“Time we got some more,” returned Marxia. “You should have ordered them a couple of weeks ago, when we got the bull snakes.”
“Couldn’t get ‘em,” informed Cap. “These are the kind you want — the ones that ain’t had the poison taken out of ‘em. You won’t be able to use these rattlers right away.”
“That’s all right.” Marxia looked into the snake pit. “I’ve got enough of the harmless ones to last for this stand. When we get to the next town, Luke and I can fix the new ones.”
“You’re welcome to the job,” decided Cap. “You won’t find me trying it.”
“It’s better to extract the poison ourselves,” insisted Marxia. “Them saps that shift the rattlers don’t always do the job right. When Luke and I get through with a rattler, we know he ain’t going to hurt nobody.”
Cap nodded. He looked about but saw no sign of Cleed. He was frowning as he walked toward the closed entrance of the Ten-in-One. Marxia strolled to the back of the tent. She raised the canvas and ducked out, as Luke had done just after talking with Cap.
ACROSS the midway, Cap saw a crouching figure moving on the far side of a tent. He thought it was Cleed; he watched as the figure stopped. Then Cap realized that the stooped form was Jubo the Geek.
Oddly enough, Jubo was also looking for Cleed. He was noting a figure behind some tents further down the midway. As Jubo watched, he saw Cleed slink into view from in back of Tex Larch’s tent.
Cleed straightened. He dropped his slinking role long enough to move across the midway, avoiding people who were going into the big top. Then he resumed his slinking pace past tents and trucks as he headed for the Ten-in-One.
Jubo turned and headed toward the midway. His own tent was beside a concession booth. Jubo ducked under the canvas just as Cap Guffy recognized him. Cap was still eying Jubo’s tent with keen suspicion when the flap moved at the entrance of the Ten-in-One.
Cap turned to see Cleed peering from the opening. He turned and walked into the tent, growling as he joined the cigarette fiend.
“Time you showed up,” Cap announced, as he closed the flap behind him. “We ain’t opening for half an hour yet, but I wanted to make sure you was around. I’m going down to the depot to get a box of snakes that come in this afternoon. Be here when I get back.”
Jubo the Geek, when he had ducked into his tent, had not entered the pit. Instead, he had gone to the front flaps. Peering through the opening, he had watched the man who had been observing him. Thus Jubo had seen Cleed’s face at the flaps of the Ten-in-One. He had seen Cap Guffy turn to go in with the cigarette fiend.
Jubo remained on watch. His eyes roved from left to right. They saw Cap Guffy’s car roll into view from the left side of the Ten-in-One. They also noted Cleed sneaking forth from the other end of the tent.
Shifting his position, the mop-headed geek looked toward a distant tent that he could barely see from the new angle. It was the isolated canvas wherein Cleed and his cronies met. While Jubo watched, a light glimmered from within the tent.
The glare of the midway was tempered by the pinkish rays of sunset. Jubo could distinguish forms of roughnecks moving to form a loose cordon about the tent from which the signal had come. The meeting was an early one. There would be little chance for prowlers to escape the observation of the guarding roughnecks. Jubo moved back into his tent and began to let snakes loose in the pit.
CLIFF MARSLAND, standing beside the truck where he was stationed, had come to the same decision as Jubo. Cliff could see the lighted tent plainly; also the ground between his position and the meeting place. Though dusk was settling rapidly, Cliff felt that tonight’s watch was a mere routine.
Should any prowler appear; should any roughneck move from his position, every member of the cordon would promptly notice it. This fact, to Cliff, was alarming. He sensed that this meeting must be important. He was positive that The Shadow — even if present on the lot — would be unable to approach the watched tent.
Something stirred in the truck above Cliff’s head. The Shadow’s agent did not notice the fact. No sound betokened the unseen movement. Crouched behind the sides of the truck was the tall stranger whom the sheriff had noticed near the office. This uncanny personage was drawing a small flat bag from beneath a seat of the truck.
Blackness enveloped the crouching form. Cloak and hat made the stranger a form of darkness. Groping toward the rear of the truck, The Shadow dropped easily to the ground without a sound. Crouching, he began the task that Cliff Marsland had classed as impossible. The Shadow was making his way toward the meeting tent.
Of all the watchers, Cliff alone saw moving blackness on the rough ground. Yet the form that he observed was no more than a shapeless, crawling mass. Cliff saw this token of The Shadow because he was watching more intently than the other roughnecks; also because he was closest to The Shadow.
Wisely, The Shadow had chosen to begin his creep from the spot where his own agent was established. But as The Shadow progressed; as dusk brought a slightly deeper gray to the terrain, Cliff lost sight of the form that he was watching.