"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 101 - The Gray Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

to compete with the Gray Ghost. Once the Gray Ghost's rival was found, Culden could also be
discovered.

The Shadow knew that Weston would proceed with a search for Shanty Uhving. The police would call
upon stool pigeons; they would use every effort to nail Shanty in a quiet way. That failing, they would
stage a round-up; probably to-morrow night. It would be The Shadow's task to move more rapidly than
the law.

Stopping in a telephone booth, The Shadow made a call. A quiet voice responded; it was that of
Burbank, who served as a quick contact with active agents. The Shadow gave instructions. A search was
to begin, with Shanty Uhving as the quarry. With this order, The Shadow gave a definite lead.

He had heard of Shanty Uhving in the past. The fellow was a small-fry hoodlum who had dropped from
sight. In the past, Shanty had palled with another crook of his own caliber. That thug's name was “Bump”
Pannard. The law had never connected the two.

Shanty Uhving would be in some hideout, if news had leaked that he was wanted. Bump Pannard,
however, would be at large in the criminal bad lands. He could be located by a search through
gangdom's domain. Bump would probably produce a trail to Shanty; to the big-shot whom Shanty
served; then, finally, to Culden.

A long trail, but one that would develop quickly if followed wisely. Thus The Shadow's search for Shanty
involved Bump as the first move. Capable agents would be on the job. Supporting them, The Shadow
would himself join the campaign. Harry was still with Renright at Narrowneck. The Shadow was free to
press the search for lesser crooks who were in Manhattan. Harry was capable of covering the supposed
Gray Ghost.

DUSK had arrived; Manhattan was aglow. In certain quarters, however, gloominess persisted. Skulkers
were abroad.

The grapevine, invisible telegraph of the underworld, had not yet substantiated rumors of a possible
round-up. Small-fry thugs felt at liberty to prowl the confines of the underworld. They numbered
hundreds, those shifty hoodlums. One among them was Bump Pannard.

Among these denizens of scumland, there were others of a different ilk. They were agents of The
Shadow—a chosen few who camouflaged themselves as rowdies and thereby roved at will. One was
Cliff Marsland, a square-jawed, hard-fisted chap whom the underworld regarded as a man at odds with
the law. There was “Hawkeye,” a crafty, shifty prowler who could pick up the most difficult trails.

Moe Shrevnitz was present also. He was covering the fringes of the bad lands—cruising in his cab,
parking and making visits to lesser dives frequented by hoodlums. All the while, Moe saw to it that he
reached certain contact points on schedule.

For there was another searcher in the underworld to-night: The Shadow.

Sometimes garbed in black; sometimes disguised as a sweatered hoodlum, the master sleuth was
penetrating deep into the realm where crooks gathered. The Shadow was covering a huge area on his
own. He changed his disguise at the times when he contacted Moe's cab. The Shadow was speeding the
search for Bump Pannard.