"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 036 - The Isle of Doubt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

“That's all I wanted to know,” asserted Zach. “I needed a pal like you, Possum—and I thought you'd
make the grade. Lots of guys would turn a fellow like me down—but you're no heel. You're regular. Say
—I'm going to tell you plenty.”

“Spill it fast,” said Possum calmly. “Lefty and I are starting out on a job in ten minutes.”

“A big job?”

“Chauffeuring for a guy that's making a get-away. There's one grand in the job.”

“One grand? Listen, Possum—sit down—I've got to talk.”

New eagerness showed in Zach Telvin's face. His words became rapid as he poured a low-toned story
into Possum Quill's attentive ear. Zach hit the high spots as he spoke.

“You know why they sent me to the pen, don't you?” queried the convict. “I was in Birch Bizzup's outfit.
We pulled the swiftest bunch of bank jobs that they'd ever heard of, out that way. Then they got us
—and what a fight it was.

“Birch got bumped by the bulls. So did a couple of other birds. They landed the rest of us, and sent us
away. Came mighty close to hanging first-degree murder on us, on account of a couple of shootings that
Birch had done.

“I'm in the pen about a month. Then came the chance to break loose. It was a long shot, Possum, and I
wouldn't have gone through with it, but I had a big reason why I wanted to be out. I made my get-away,
and here I am.”

Possum Quill sensed that something of high importance was coming. He was not disappointed.

“I was mighty close to Birch Bizzup,” resumed Zach Telvin. “I was right beside him when he took the
bump—and he didn't spill a word before he croaked. That's why I kept mum. They never found out what
I knew.

“Half a million bucks, Possum—maybe more than that—gold, a little of it—currency, plenty—and
Liberty bonds that are good for cash. That's the main part of the swag that Birch Bizzup stowed away!”

“Stowed away?” questioned Possum.

“That's what I said,” grinned Zach. “Birch knew how to boss his mob. They knew he was on the square.
He packed all the gravy, and had us waiting for the big divvy when the blow-up queered the game.

“Birch was a smart guy. How he figured where the pickings lay is more than I can dope out, but he
always cracked a bank when it was loaded to the gunnels with soft dough. We took the cream, Possum,
and Birch stowed it.”

“Where?”

“That's what I know!” said Zach cagily. “And I'm the only guy in the whole outfit that knew anything
about the lay. I stuck with Birch one night when he took a pile of swag to bury it.”