"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 116 - Intimidation,Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Shadow
had expected it. The only point that The Shadow could not have answered
beforehand was, which one of the four committee men would be the first to
catch
the drift. Clewiss, a competent attorney, had risen to the occasion more
quickly
than the others.
The Shadow shook hands all around. He expressed pleasure in the fact that
he had been of service. He remarked that since he would not be needed in
Dorchester, he would return to New York.
Mayor Wrightley saw him to the door and gave a final handshake.
"You have aided us immensely, Mr. Cranston," he said.
"Our course is clear at last. We were under the impression that our enemy
was some master mind who could not be thwarted. Since we have found out that
Intimidation, Incorporated, is part of a local racket, we can approach the
perpetrator boldly. We shall soon learn the name of Kilgan's successor. These
racketeers work openly, because their business is tolerated by the law. They
always make it clear who is their leader."


THERE was no doubt about The Shadow's intention to leave Dorchester. He
went back to the hotel, checked out and made his departure as Lamont Cranston.
This time, he went by train.
The Shadow, however, had planned a dramatic return, which he had not
mentioned. It took place several hours later, when a large coupe pulled into
Dorchester and proceeded to a parking lot not far from one of the main
streets.
The driver who alighted from that old but expensive-looking automobile
was
in the guise of Link Delvo.
The Shadow locked up his car. With Link's brisk swagger, he went along
the
street and stopped at a pool room. The place was well-thronged, for it was one
of the spots where rackets flourished.
The pool room was actually the headquarters of a bookie who paid off
racing bets. His business was just within the law, as it was interpreted in
this State; but there were always some hoodlums on duty to see that no
customer
raised a squawk.
Entering the front of the pool room, The Shadow passed a group of men who
were playing slot machines. There were no pikers among these players. The
machines that took nickels and dimes were off in a forgotten corner. The slots
that were in use took quarters and half dollars. The yank of handles ceased
suddenly as one of the players saw Link Delvo. An awed silence grouped the
bunch as The Shadow strode past.
Going into a rear room, the supposed Link Delvo found a group around a
pool table, figuring the day's take on the bookie racket. The calculations
ceased when the men saw Link. Looking over the crowd, The Shadow gave a
contemptuous leer, which signified that he considered them all as small-fry.
"Where's Klondike Greems?" he grated. "When's he due here to collect the