Crime Circus

CHAPTER XIX MEN ACCUSED

WHILE The Shadow had been laying his trap for the abductors of Lucille Lavan, a brief meeting was going on in Tex Larch’s office. Three men — Tex, Cap and Wilbart — had arrived to find the office occupied by a single individual: Sheriff Howard.

The three nodded to the official. The sheriff was persisting in his vigil merely as a matter of formality. He had given up hope of uncovering the missing swag. Tex Larch, worried over matters that concerned his circus, had practically ignored the sheriff’s presence on the lot.

It was plain, too, that Tex had little time for Jonathan Wilbart. He shook hands hurriedly with the magnate, then began to take papers from a drawer in the desk. Wilbart, noting a worried expression on the showman’s face, was prompt with a question.

“What is the answer, Tex?” he inquired. “Did you hear from New York? Do you intend to sell?”

“No,” replied Tex. “That goes for both questions, Wilbart. I didn’t get the wire from New York. I don’t know how I stand. So I’m going there on the next train. That’s all.”

“Leaving the show on the lot?”

“Yes.”

“With Stuffy in charge?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Wilbart delivered a dry smile. “I shall stay close by. Send a telegram to the Hamilcar House if you intend to sell. Then I can take possession. If I do not hear from you by—”

“What then?” demanded Tex, as Wilbart paused, still smiling.

“I shall negotiate with our friend the sheriff,” remarked Wilbart, “when he is authorized to put your show up for sale.”

With this statement, Wilbart turned and stepped from the office. Tex watched him cross the midway, where he was joined by his chauffeur. With a growl, Tex turned back into the office.

“I don’t like that heel,” he declared. “So he figures this outfit is never going to move out of Hamilcar, does he? Well — I’ll show him! I’ll—”

Tex paused. He noted Cap Guffy and turned savagely toward the proprietor of the Ten-in-One.

“Well?” quizzed Tex. “What’s on your mind? I thought you’d got that junk pile of yours off the lot.”

“Ready to pull out now,” returned Cap, extending his hand. “I’m drivin’ ahead in my coupe. The trucks are followin’. So long, Tex.”

THE circus owner lost some of his anger. He shook hands cordially with Cap. The sideshow owner walked from the office. At the door, Tex watched Cap pace along the midway. He saw him enter his coupe. The little car prepared to pull away.

“Cap Guffy ain’t a bad sort,” confided Tex, as he entered the office and spoke to the seated sheriff. “The going got too tough for him — that was all. Well — I wish him luck.”

The door opened. It was Stuffy Dowson, bringing a pair of heavy suitcases. Tex turned as the general agent spoke.

“Here’s your kiesters, Tex,” announced Stuffy. “I’m goin’ to get a car. It’s time you was startin’ for the depot.”

“All right, Stuffy.”

Tex stepped from the office as soon as Stuffy had carried the suitcases from his path. The sheriff followed. Like Tex, he stood on the fringe of the midway, looking here and there.

The showman was counting the blank spaces where concessions had been. The sheriff was picking out the scattered members of his small posse. A dozen deputies were still on the grounds.

Up by the trucks that had loaded the Ten-in-One show, Cap Guffy was speaking from the driver’s seat of his coupe. He was talking to Luke, the tattooed man.

“I’m pullin’ out,” informed Cap. “Got Marxia’s rattlers aboard this car. You see that everybody gets aboard the trucks when the drivers are ready to go.”

“We’re all set, Cap.”

Luke turned to Marxia as the coupe rolled from the lot. In a low voice, the tattooed man gave final instructions to the snake charmer.

“Croaker planted the cash,” he stated, “along with what was left of the queer. The big shot’s got it. That settles that.”

“What about Croaker?”

“He and Beef just grabbed Lucille Lavan. She was Lucy Aldon.”

“What?”

“Yep.” Luke grinned. “They’re on their way. Now it’s up to me to pass the ‘Hey Rube.’ The mob is waitin’ for the shout. I’m goin’ to slide around a bit first. Might as well give the big shot and Croaker plenty of time to get clear.”

Luke was looking down the midway. He saw Tex Larch talking with the sheriff. Stuffy Dowson had not yet returned with the car. Luke sauntered off behind some tents. Marxia remained by the trucks.

OUTSIDE the office, Stuffy reappeared beside Tex Larch and the sheriff. He informed Tex that the car was waiting on the other side of the lot. Tex pointed to the bags. Stuffy picked them up. Tex shook hands with the sheriff; then turned to follow Stuffy.

Then came an interruption. A gray-haired man came hurrying from a cluster of idlers. In a crackly voice, he shouted to the departing showman. Both Tex and the sheriff turned as the man called.

“Where are you going, Larch!” came the crackled demand. “Stop! I want to talk to you.”

The sheriff saw a clouded look appear upon Tex Larch’s face. Then the showman forced a smile to his lips. He extended his hand toward the arrival.

“I was coming into New York to see you, Mr. Towne,” declared Tex. “I was waiting here to get a wire from you.”

“A likely story!” exclaimed the gray-haired man. “I have lost patience with your dallying, Larch.”

“Come on in the office,” suggested Tex. “I’ve been having a lot of poor luck in this burg. I want to tell you that—”

“I want to see the girl!” challenged Towne. “I can abide no further with your constant wish for delay.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. Towne—”

The sheriff stepped in to stop the argument. With one big hand, he pressed Tex back. He scented complications; he wanted to know the facts.

“Who are you?” the official asked the gray-haired man. “I’m the sheriff of this county. I want to know everything that’s happening on this circus lot.”

“You are the sheriff?” questioned Towne. Then, as he caught the flash of a badge, he nodded. “Very well, sir. My name is Adoniram Towne. I am the lawyer of the Aldon estate. I have come here to claim Lucy Aldon, the missing heiress.”

“Lucy Aldon!” exclaimed the sheriff. “What’s she doing here?”

“Working in the big top,” put in Tex, sullenly. “Lucille Lavan — queen of the high wire. She don’t know she’s Lucy Aldon.”

“Mr. Larch came to see me in New York,” explained Adoniram Towne. “That was a few months ago. He told me that he was sure Lucille Lavan was Lucy Aldon. He requested that I keep the fact from her until the end of the season.”

“The show would have folded without her,” put in Tex. “She was the big act. I made a straight deal with Mr. Towne here. I told him it wouldn’t be fair to Lucille to tell her who she was before the season ended. She’s happy with the show.”

“I agreed with Larch,” admitted Towne. “I even advanced him funds — as reward for finding Lucy Aldon — so that he could complete his season. But when I read of trouble in this circus I—”

“You wanted to know if the girl was safe,” interposed the sheriff. “Sure thing. I don’t blame you.”

“I want to see Lucille Aldon at once,” added Towne. “Without delay.”

“You’ll see her.” The sheriff turned to Tex. “Her act’s over, ain’t it? Where’s her tent?”

“Over by the big top,” growled Tex. “But there’s no use talking to her yet. Let’s go in the office—”

“We’ll go to her tent,” ordered the sheriff. “Come along, both of you. And you” — he turned to Stuffy, who was gaping as he held the bags — “come along with us, too. This is something I’m going to find out about.”

WHILE the four were heading for Lucille’s tent, a sudden drama was budding in an isolated spot behind the office trailer. Cliff Marsland and the roughneck with him were talking as they sat beneath the light of the old meeting tent.

Jubo the Geek had opened his eyes. Neither Cliff nor the roughneck had noticed it. While the two were chatting in low voices, Jubo moved. On hands and knees, he began to crawl toward the canvas wall.

“Look there!” The standing roughneck spied the moving geek. “He’s tryin’ a sneak! Get him!”

Yanking a gun from his pocket, the roughneck aimed for Jubo. Cliff acted before the fellow could press the trigger. The Shadow’s agent was pulling his own gun; with a downward stroke, he cracked the roughneck’s wrist. The fellow’s revolver dropped to the ground as Jubo made a dive beneath the side of the tent.

Fuming oaths, the roughneck pounced on Cliff. The Shadow’s agent grappled with his foe. It was a vicious struggle that set the two men back and forth across the tent, their heels digging in the soft turf. Then Cliff’s hand rose and descended. The steel of his automatic met the roughneck’s skull. The ruffian collapsed.

Jubo was gone. Stealthily, Cliff turned out the light. Leaving his adversary unconscious, The Shadow’s agent moved through the darkness, picking a course toward the midway. He was too late to trail Jubo the Geek. The mop-headed wild man had made good his escape.

IN Lucille’s tent, the sheriff was grimly surveying overturned chairs and upset articles upon the dressing table. Two of his deputies had arrived; they were watching Tex and Stuffy. Adoniram Towne was biting his lips.

“Looks like someone grabbed the girl,” decided the sheriff. “You’ll answer for this, Larch. What do you know about it? Where is Lucy Aldon?”

“I don’t know,” responded Tex. His face was troubled. “I had no idea—”

“You tried to keep us from coming in this tent,” broke in Towne, his voice indignant. “Come, Larch. Have you abducted Lucy Aldon?”

“What do you mean?” Tex’s question was savage, “Do you think I’d do—”

“You were the only one who knew who she was,” interposed Towne, “The burden of proof is upon you, Larch.”

“Others might have known it,” retorted Tex. “She’s been a trouper ever since she was a kid. Brought up by circus folk. It didn’t take no detective work for me to learn the names of her dead parents—”

Tex broke off as a figure bounded up from the side of the tent. A deputy swung his revolver to cover the intruder. A gasp came from Stuffy Dowson:

“Jubo the Geek!”

The wild man had thrust one hand to his forehead. With a quick sweep, he ripped off his heavy, moplike wig.

The action brought an instant change to his brownish, made-up features. With his other hand, Jubo drew up the bottom of his jersey. A badge glittered from the shirt that he wore beneath.

“Who are you?” quizzed the sheriff, as he ordered the deputy to lower his gun.

“My name’s Marquette,” stated the transformed geek, in a steady voice. “I’m Vic Marquette, of the secret service.”

“Of the secret service!”

“Yes. Is this man Larch your prisoner?”

“He is. Do you want him?”

“He looks like the fellow I’m after. I need the big shot in a counterfeiting racket that’s been following this show of his. Are those Larch’s bags?”

“Yes.”

“Where was he taking them?”

“To New York.”

Vic grabbed a bag and yanked it open. Clothes, office books and other assorted articles went spreading on the ground. Vic seized the second suitcase and sent its contents flying.

“What are you looking for?” quizzed the sheriff, as Vic began to paw through the scattered articles.

“Cash,” returned Vic. “Real cash and plenty of it. I’m looking for counterfeit bills, too. The mob that’s with this show pulled in all the queer that they were shoving. It was going to the big shot, tonight.”

“I’m not the big shot,” put in Tex.

“Looks like you’re right,” admitted Vic, rising from the ground. “Do you know who is?”

“I didn’t even know there was a racket with the outfit,” growled Tex. “Say — it looks like I’m being framed plenty here tonight. First the girl business. Then—”

“Who else went off this lot?” quizzed Vic, turning to the sheriff. “Who else could have carried the cash and the queer?”

“Cap Guffy left,” declared the sheriff. “Drove off the lot in his coupe.”

“He’s the man, then!” decided Vic, grimly. “I located the mainspring of the mob. He’s the fellow that called himself Cleed the Cigarette Fiend. But his crew grabbed me before I saw him contact with the big shot.

“Can you give me a couple of deputies, sheriff? I’m going after Cap Guffy, before it’s too late. Had a couple of my own men, here on the lot, but I didn’t see them when I came across the midway.”

“Keep guard, men,” ordered the sheriff, as he stepped toward the tent flaps. “I’ll get you a couple of deputies, Marquette. Maybe you’ll still have time to grab Captain Guffy.”

“Who wants Cap Guffy?”

The tent flaps swept aside before the sheriff could open them. The voice came in challenging fashion from the burly speaker who was entering. The sheriff stepped back and dropped his jaw. Vic Marquette stared.

Into the tent had come the very man whom they intended to pursue. It was Captain Guffy, big as life, demanding to know why he was wanted!