Crime Circus

CHAPTER XV GATHERING CLOUDS

“WELL? What about it, Stuffy?”

“We can open tonight, Cap. The tin star says it’s all jake.”

“It’s time he made up his mind about it. The crowd — or what there is of it — won’t stick around much longer.”

The conversation was taking place in the office of the Larch Circus and Greater Shows. Cap Guffy and Stuffy Dowson were done. One day had passed since The Shadow’s battle with the mobsters in the big top. A new evening had begun.

“You can’t blame the tin star, Cap.” Stuffy Dowson spoke as Guffy was about to leave the office. “He’s a regular sort of a guy. But he can’t let the law slide just on our account.”

“We ain’t stopping him, are we?” growled Cap. “Say — what does the yap want? He landed the five bank robbers, didn’t he?”

“But he didn’t find the dough they swiped, Cap.”

“He searched the lot, didn’t he? Him and them rube deputies — say, they even tapped the tent poles to make sure they weren’t hollow. That swag’s off this lot, Stuffy. The tin star might as well make up his mind to it.”

“He has,” declared Stuffy, “and he wants to talk to you about it.”

“Why me?” queried Cap, staring hard.

“On account of that fellow Zoda,” stated Stuffy. “It looks sort of phony, Cap, that guy blowing the way he did. The sheriff tells me Zoda never set up his ‘props’ last night.”

“That’s a fact,” declared Cap. “I told the sheriff about it, though. He thought it was worth looking into, but that was all.”

“He was still thinking about the robbers,” explained Stuffy. “It wasn’t until after he’d nabbed those five heels that he began to worry about the swag. Let me give you the lay, Cap. I ain’t had a chance to talk much about it.

“You heard about the trouble in the big top. That fight was a pip. It would have been too bad for old tin star if the guy in black hadn’t got in his say.”

“Who was the guy, Stuffy?”

“We don’t know. He was gone when the lights came on. Four of the clowns said he was supposed to be Koko. So we went over to the dressing tent and the first thing we seen was a guy in a black cloak and hat, laying in a heap by one of the trunks.”

“Was he the fellow?”

“No. We thought so at first. I figured he’d got shot during the fight. We grabbed off his cloak — and who do you think it was?”

“Koko?”

“Yeah. But he wasn’t the fellow that had been in the big top. It was Koko that we found; and he was tied up with a couple of belts. He had a bandanna gagging him. He couldn’t tell us what hit him. He said he’d been going to pull a stunt on the track. He was supposed to be a guy called The Shadow, chasing four crooks. Just when he was leaving for the big top, somebody landed on him like a load of bricks. It was another guy with a black cloak and hat.”

“The Shadow?”

“Guess it must have been — only we don’t know who The Shadow is. Well, after we found Koko, the tin star decides to search the lot. There wasn’t nobody had got away. The fight in the big top was over quick; the sheriff’s crew was still on guard. The bank watchman picked the five dead heels as the robbers. So the search begun.”

“You got to hand it to the tin star, Cap. There wasn’t no chance for any swag to go off this lot. They watched all the townies that left. They’ve been searching all day. But still they ain’t found the dough they’re after.”

“When did they give up the search?”

“About an hour ago — that’s all. Say — here comes the tin star now.”

THE door was opening as Stuffy spoke. Cap turned to see Sheriff Howard. The official’s face was gloomy. A curt nod was his greeting as he sat down at one of the desks.

“So you’re letting us open, eh?” questioned Cap.

“Yes,” responded the sheriff. “I’ve given the word that the search is over. Start your shows when you want.”

“Still keeping your men on the lot?”

“Yes. Enough of them to be ready if there’s any trouble. There’s just one guy they’re looking for.”

“Zoda?”

“That’s right. If they get any suspects, Captain, I’ll bring them for you to look over.”

“What about the fellow that did the shooting?” inquired Stuffy.

“How’re we going to find him?” demanded the sheriff. “We didn’t get a look at his face. What’s more, he was on our side. If he shows up, I’ll shake hands with him.

“I’ve been talking with this fellow Hank that works for you. He looked over the five dead men. He says they look like the bunch that jumped the show and came back. The watchman says they’re the robbers.

“Hank gave me their names. He told me the towns where they joined. I’ve sent fliers out to those towns to get a line on them. I don’t think it will do much good though. The whole five were probably traveling under fake names.”

Neither Cap nor Stuffy had any comment to offer on this subject. When Stuffy spoke, his words related to a more pressing matter.

“I’m going down to the big top,” he informed. “Got to get ready to put on the show tonight. See you later.”

“I’m heading for the Ten-in-One,” decided Cap. “Those freaks of mine don’t know there’s going to be a show. Like as not I’ll have to travel all over the lot to round them up.”

Both men left. The sheriff remained alone. His face retained its glumness. At times, he muttered to himself.

The failure to regain or trace the spoils of the bank robbers was wearing on Sheriff Howard. He had felt elation after the battle in which the five gorillas had been slain. His triumph, however, had faded.

“If only one of them was still alive,” muttered the sheriff. “One that could talk—”

THE door opened as the sheriff mumbled this wish. Howard looked up to see Tex Larch.

The circus owner nodded and dropped his two suitcases on the floor.

“Well?” questioned Tex, gruffly. “What’s the latest, sheriff?”

“Just get in from New York?” queried the official.

“Yeah,” returned Tex, “but I read about the trouble in a newspaper. First time anything like it has ever happened with my show. So you got the robbers — but not the money.”

“Yeah.”

“I was talking to a couple of the concessionaires when I came along the midway. They told me you’d quit searching the lot.”

“I have. We did a thorough job. The money isn’t on this lot.”

“Sorry you had bad luck, sheriff.” Tex turned toward the door, just as Stuffy reentered. “Hello, Stuffy. Say — run these kiesters over to my tent, will you?”

“Sure thing, Tex.” Stuffy picked up the suitcases. “Your old friend just blew in, Tex. Do you want to see him?”

“Who do you mean?”

“Jonathan Wilbart.”

Tex scowled. Observing the sheriff’s gaze, he changed his expression.

“‘All right, Stuffy,” he decided. “I’ll talk to Wilbart.”

Stuffy departed and Wilbart entered a minute later. Tex shook hands with the magnate. Wilbart nodded to the sheriff. It was Tex who spoke first.

“Suppose you heard about the trouble here?” he questioned.

“Yes,” responded Wilbart. “That is why I came to see you. I thought perhaps that it might temper your decision regarding the sale of your show.”

“Maybe it will,” remarked Tex, in a meditative tone. “But I can’t talk about it tonight, Wilbart. Things are in a mess. Right now I’m worrying about tonight’s show.”

“You are going to open?” inquired Wilbart, in a tone of surprise.

“I guess so,” returned Tex. He looked toward the sheriff, who nodded.

“Well, that’s a help,” declared Tex. “Listen, Wilbart: suppose we talk matters over some other time. How about the end of this week?”

“While you are still here in Hamilcar?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Tex. I shall remain at the Hamilcar Hotel for a few days. You can communicate with me there, if you wish.”

Tex nodded. He turned and left the office. He failed to close the door behind him. Wilbart and the sheriff saw him walking across the midway toward the tent where Stuffy had taken the bags.

“I am glad that you are letting Tex open his show tonight, sheriff,” observed Wilbart. “He certainly needs whatever business he may get in this town.”

“Show on the rocks, eh?”

“Not far from it. Of course” — Wilbart smiled — “if Tex has poor business this week, he may be more willing to sell his show to me. However, sheriff, I do not care to profit by another man’s misfortune.”

The sheriff nodded.

“Of course,” resumed Wilbart, “I am counting on his misfortune in a sense. Tex Larch has been experiencing poor weeks — ‘bloomers,’ we call them — and I have considered that fact in making my offers. But those are natural hazards, actually of the man’s own making. Poor business judgment is different from unexpected situations such as the trouble that this circus encountered here.”

“I’ve given Larch a break,” announced the sheriff. “We’ve been searching the grounds here and we haven’t found the money that was stolen from that Almsburg bank. By right, I could close this show. Instead, I’m letting it open. I’m through, so far as further search is concerned.”

“Your men are still here, are they not?”

“Only to preserve order. Also in case some clew bobbed up. But I don’t think there will be any. We got the bank robbers.”

“Are you sure they were the only crooks with the show?”

“Yes. I’m looking for one fellow — a mind reader called Zoda — who might have been in with them. But he’s gone. If he shows up on the lot, maybe we’ll grab him.”

JONATHAN WILBART nodded. He extended his hand and received the sheriff’s shake. He walked from the office and was joined on the midway by his chauffeur, Lennox. The two men went between tents toward the spot where Wilbart’s car was parked.

A few minutes later, Sheriff Howard stepped from the office and looked along the midway. Tex — Cap — Stuffy — all had gone their separate ways. Ticket sellers were raising their raucous cries. Scattered groups of people were turning toward the big top.

Turning, the sheriff saw a tall, firm-faced stranger who was standing a few feet from the entrance to the office. The sheriff’s gaze met those of a pair of steady eyes that peered from a masklike countenance. The stranger raised a cigarette to his thin lips and drew a long puff as the sheriff turned and walked away to talk with members of his posse.

In that moment, the sheriff had unwittingly glimpsed two personages, both of whom he would like to have met. One was Zoda, the missing mind reader whom the sheriff sought; the other was The Shadow, who had saved the sheriff’s life.

The sheriff had never dreamed that Zoda and The Shadow could be one; nor did he realize that this keen-eyed observer — who looked like neither Zoda nor The Shadow — was the double personality who had played so stirring a part in the happenings on the circus lot.

Two men were stopping near the spot where The Shadow stood. One was Cliff Marsland; the other was Hank, the pretended roughneck. Hank’s low growl came clearly to The Shadow’s ears.

“Stick by the truck,” the big man was informing Cliff. “Wait until you see the light in the tent. It’s comin’ pretty soon — same as before.”

Cliff nodded. He and Hank were pulling down their left sleeves. In accustomed fashion, they had flashed their red circles. The two men moved away. A smile appeared upon the thin lips of the watching stranger.

The Shadow knew that last night’s battle had not marked the end of crime. New clouds were gathering; further evil was afoot. Again, the might of The Shadow would be needed.