"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 065 - The Chinese Disks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Spider Mertz thought that Duff was foxy. That was why Spider had named him for a post with the
unknown big shot. But Joe Cardona had called the turn. He had spotted Duff for a yellow rat. Duff had
caved when Joe had began to question him. Right now, in his usual fashion, Duff was trying to keep on
both sides of the fence. In so doing, he was acting in the very fashion that Cardona had hoped.

Here in his own bailiwick, Duff possessed a cunning grin; nothing like the sickly twitch that had adorned
his face at headquarters. He intended to play the fox, so far as Spider was concerned. He would horn in
with the big shot and pick up some easy mazuma. But at the same time, Duff intended to play straight
with Joe Cardona. That, he figured would be the only way to save his yellow hide.

A newcomer strolled into Red Mike's. Duff knew the fellow. Cliff Marsland. Here was a bird who rated
a gang lieutenancy any day in the week. Yet he preferred the company of ordinary gorillas. The
explanation - as Duff and others knew it - was that Cliff chose to play a lone wolf game in his dealings
with the underworld.
Cliff Marsland was not of the gorilla type. Duff noted that as the arrival took a seat not far away. There
was nothing uncouth or sordid about Cliff's appearance. But his chiseled profile marked him a man of
action. Tough guys edged away from Cliff Marsland. His manner meant business.

So did his rep. Cliff was known as a killer. Once he had gone gunning for The Shadow. The fact that The
Shadow was still at large was no damaging factor to Cliff's underworld reputation. In fact, it only made
Cliff a figure of greater prominence. To Duff Corley, it meant that Cliff had the edge on The Shadow.

For The Shadow had a way of eliminating those who declared themselves his enemies. Yet Cliff had the
temerity to roam the underworld at will. He, the avowed enemy of The Shadow. Among mobsters, Cliff
was unique.

Little did Duff Corley realize that Cliff Marsland, like himself, was playing a dual part. Duff, recognized
by gangsters, had become the secret informant of Detective Joe Cardona. His new role had begun
to-night. Cliff Marsland, on the contrary, had been playing his part for a long while. Cliff Marsland was a
secret agent of The Shadow.

More than that, he was here on a mission for The Shadow. He, too, had communicated with Burbank.
Clyde Burke's information had gone to The Shadow. It had come back, in the form of orders, to Cliff
Marsland. His task, here at Red Mike's, was to watch Duff Corley.

EXPERIENCED at this game, Cliff kept his gaze away from the scrawny mobster. Sitting at his own
table, The Shadow's agent stared toward the clustered groups between him and the outer door. But
every now and then he managed a sidelong glance that Duff did not observe. Those glances enabled Cliff
to watch the mobster.

Bottles and glasses were clicking throughout the smoke-filled room. Ribald mobsters were loud with
oaths and jests. Cliff was watching the crowd for the moment; so was Duff. Neither noticed the husky
mobster who stepped in through the little-used rear door.

The fellow moved close to Duff and nudged the scrawny crook. Duff started to turn; a growl warned him
to give no sign. Glancing downward, Duff saw a grimy fist by the level of the table edge. The fingers
opened. In the palm, Duff observed a disk that was identical with the one he carried.

Fumbling, Duff pulled his hand from the pocket of his ragged coat. He showed the token which he
carried. He saw the other fist close and move away. Duff thrust his own hand back into his pocket. He