INSIDE the tent, Cleed had dropped his air of silence. Again, he was talking in the evil snarl of Croaker Zinn. Luke and Marxia were listening intently to his words. None realized that The Shadow was without.
“So we’re quitting the racket this week,” Croaker announced, with emphasis. “Those five mugs queered it. They got what was coming to them for being so dumb. If that watchman hadn’t seen them, they’d never have been traced to this lot.
“We were going to play the racket all along the line. Those five gorillas knew their stuff. I had them set to crack a crib each time the show made a jump. Out and back the same night. But they pulled a boner on the first trip.”
“It’s lucky you had me change them tattoo designs,” put in Luke. “Say — those red circles would have made plenty of trouble. But those butterflies and other junk didn’t mean nothing to the sheriff when he saw them.”
“Of course not,” declared Croaker. “Tattoo marks are common on a circus lot. But it wasn’t luck, Luke. I saw what might be coming. That’s why I had you cover up the red circles. What’s more — that’s not all that I figured on.
“Those five gorillas handed me the swag after they brought it into camp. I had it ready for the big shot. When the yap sheriff showed up and put his hick guards around the place, it looked like we were getting in a swell jam.
“But I slipped the swag to the big shot. He took it out right under their noses. So when the sheriff finally got around to looking for it, it wasn’t on the lot. The big shot’s put the swag in a safe place.”
Croaker paused to laugh harshly. Then an evil laugh came from his lips. It was an odd laugh for one who still wore the pasty make-up of Cleed.
“The sheriff is a sap,” decided Croaker. “He figures somebody must have copped the swag. He’s dumb enough to think it might be Zoda. He hasn’t got brains enough to dope out who Zoda really was.”
“The Shadow!” gasped Luke, in an awed tone.
“Yeah, The Shadow!” spat Croaker. “Maybe he’s still around here, figuring that there’ll be another gang go out to crack some crib when we move. But The Shadow, even, won’t wise up to what we’re going to pull now.”
“You got a new game, Croaker?”
“You bet. First of all, we’re going to start shoving the queer, beginning late tonight.”
“What about the Feds?”
“They won’t wise up. We’ll use some sap for a blind. Like we did before. Then I’ll have the cash we take in and any queer that’s left all ready for the big shot to lug off the lot the night we finish this stand.”
“And then the gang will blow?”
“Later. After the big shot gets clear, I’ve got another job to pull. Listen, both of you, and keep mum. You’ve heard of this missing heiress, Lucy Aldon?”
“Sure.” Luke nodded. “Lot of talk about her in the papers. Some lawyer offered five thousand berries to anybody who’d locate her. What’s the gag, Croaker? You figurin’ a way to collect that dough?”
“FIVE grand!” Croaker snorted. “Say — that Aldon moll is heiress to a million. Listen. I know where she is. I know how to get her. She don’t know she’s Lucy Aldon. That makes it sweet.
“Beef Malligan is coming here to Hamilcar. He’ll be on the lot, the last night. After I pass the coin to the big shot, along with any queer we haven’t got rid of, Beef and I are going to blow.
“We’ll head for a place where nobody will find us. When we get there, Lucy Aldon will be with us. Then we’ll get some guy to act as the voice and we’ll tell that old lawyer we’ve got the million-dollar moll.
“He’ll have to come to terms. We’ll be sitting pretty. He’s never seen the girl — get the idea? How can they find a moll when they don’t know what she looks like — when they don’t know anything about her?”
“Say!” Luke was keen with his exclamation. “How did you get wise to where this Aldon gal is?”
“The big shot tipped me off,” explained Croaker. “He had sort of a hunch to begin with. He used his bean and doped it out. But here’s the lay.
“When Beef and I beat it, the rest is up to you. As soon as we get clear, everything has got to go haywire on this lot. Inside of half an hour after we’ve done a scram, you start a riot, Luke.”
“Give ‘em a ‘Hey Rube’?”
“Yeah. The mob will do their stuff. There’ll be a lot of people missing after that scrap is over. Nobody’s going to know where they went.”
“I get you, Croaker. But — but—”
“But what?”
“What’s the ‘Hey Rube’ got to do with you and Beef grabbing the Aldon gal? Where are you goin’ to snatch her from?”
Croaker laughed as he arose and extinguished the light that hung from the tent pole.
“You don’t get it, Luke,” he growled in the darkness. “Well, it’s just as well you don’t. I practically put you wise to the lay — yet you and Marxia don’t get it. Well, if you don’t, after what I’ve told you, nobody else will.”
The discussion was ended. As roughnecks prowled from their posts, the three freaks emerged from the little tent and moved toward the Ten-in-One. They were no more than skulking figures in the deepening dusk.
Silence reigned by the deserted tent. Then came a whispered laugh. It was the suppressed mirth of The Shadow, the unseen listener to the conference of crooks.
In a sense, The Shadow’s laugh was an aftermath of Croaker’s evil chortle.
For The Shadow had divined what Luke and Marxia had been unable to guess. He had sensed the important point of the fell scheme which Croaker Zinn intended to put in execution.
Tonight, counterfeit money would begin a new flow through the circus lot. Its circulation would persist until the final night in Hamilcar. Then would come a stroke of crime that would concern a girl named Lucy Aldon.
The laugh of The Shadow faded. His tall form merged with the descending night. As he had struck before, The Shadow would seek to strike again, with men of crime his prey!
CHAPTER XVII
THE NIGHT BEFORE
LIGHTS had dulled along the midway of the Larch Circus and Greater Shows. The last of the crowds had departed. Automobiles were heading townward. Tomorrow would begin the last day of the stand in Hamilcar. One more night would end the worst “bloomer” of the season.
Among the cars that were rolling from the circus lot was Cap Guffy’s rickety coupe. Like other vehicles, it was heading toward Hamilcar. When it arrived there, it pulled up in front of an old brick hotel — The Hamilcar House.
Two men alighted. One was Cap Guffy; the other, Tex Larch. Gloomily, the showmen entered the lobby of the old hotel. While Cap strolled about, Tex approached the desk and spoke to the clerk.
“Jonathan Wilbart stopping here?” questioned the circus owner.
“Room 204,” replied the clerk. “Who wants to see him?”
“Tex Larch” — the showman paused, then spoke again as the clerk pushed in a switch and raised a telephone receiver — “tell him Tex Larch and Captain Guffy. Two of us.”
Tex stood glumly while the clerk phoned the message. The call completed, the clerk turned and nodded. He pointed toward the stairway, to indicate that Wilbart would receive the visitors.
Two guests were in the lobby when Tex and Cap went up the stairs. One was a tall, steady-faced individual, who had registered under the name of Lamont Cranston. The other was a stalwart young fellow who had arrived two days ago, from New York. He was in the book as Harry Vincent.
Lamont Cranston was The Shadow. Harry Vincent was his agent. The Shadow had summoned this new aid from Manhattan. Like Cliff Marsland, Harry Vincent was one upon whom The Shadow could depend when crime reached its climax.