Crime Circus

CHAPTER VII THE GAME BEGINS

BRIGHT lights glittered along the midway. A new night had come. Business was good for the Larch Circus and Greater Shows. The outfit had struck a “red one” — a town where customers had cash that they were willing to spend.

Marlborough had been a “bloomer” for Tex Larch. He had welcomed the move to the next town on his route. The tents were pitched on the outskirts of Burnsville, a small but thriving city.

Thanks to a “fixer,” the concessions were running at full blast. Percentage wheels were clicking profits for their operators. Crowds were jamming the rider carousel, Ferris wheel and whip. The circus had done good business on its opening and Cap Guffy was jamming them in at the Ten-in-One. The smaller shows — like Jubo the Geek’s — were also getting their share.

A tall, hawk-faced man was strolling along with the crowd that was coming from the circus tent. He had seen the show in the big top. Like others, he seemed to be looking for new amusement. His keen gaze took in every attraction along the midway.

The stranger paused to light a cigarette. He was jostled by passers in the crowd, so he stepped aside and stopped by a ticket window where a seller was counting up receipts. His tall form cast a curious shadow along the grounds. It was a splotch of blackness that ended in a sharp, well defined profile.

This stranger was The Shadow. Tonight, he had temporarily abandoned his garb of black. He had become a patron of the circus grounds; already, he had found events of interest. The spot where he had stopped was well chosen.

Two men were standing near the ticket window. They were not circus folk; nor were they part of the pleasure-seeking crowd that thronged the midway. Like The Shadow, these stern-faced individuals were here with a purpose. Moreover, they had managed to render themselves inconspicuous.

A dart game was operating in a concession booth close to the ticket window. The Shadow stepped in that direction to watch the customers throw feathered pointers at tags that were supposed to bear lucky numbers.

A SHILL was having great luck. His well-aimed dart landed on a card that hung from the board behind the counter. The operator pulled out the dart and turned the card to show the number 21. He took a huge kewpie doll from his display and handed it to the shill. A sucker stepped up to aim darts at the tag which the concessionaire had replaced upon the board.

“Hello, Casey. Got any big bills?”

The question came in a woman’s voice. The Shadow let his keen eyes turn toward the ticket booth. Madame Solva had come over from the Ten-in-One. She was holding a large stack of one-dollar bills.

“Sure thing,” responded the ticket taker. “How many ones have you got there, Madame?”

“A hundred and fifty. Give me some tens and twenties.”

“All right.”

Casey took the ones and shoved out the required bills. Madame Solva started for the other side of the midway.

The Shadow saw one watching man nudge the other. A nod; one fellow kept his eye on Madame Solva while the other stepped up to the ticket window. Casey was counting over the bills that the woman had given him.

“Say, Bud,” remarked the man who had approached, “give me change for a five spot, will you?”

Casey nodded and counted off five from the bundle of ones. The man passed in a five-dollar bill; then returned to join his companion. Out of Casey’s sight — they were at the closed side of the booth — they turned their backs and examined the bills between them.

The Shadow saw the bills go in one man’s pocket. He noticed grim, knowing nods. Then the two sauntered out toward the midway, idling in the direction that Madame Solva had taken.

An argument was starting at the counter of the dart game. The sucker had landed a pointer in the lucky card. The operator had turned the tag to show its face.

“Number twenty-seven,” he was saying. “Well, friend, that wins you a tin whistle.”

“Twenty-seven?” The angry customer growled. “Say — when the last guy stabbed that card, it was twenty-one.”

“You must be mistaken,” informed the operator. “Look at the card yourself. Number twenty-seven.”

The sucker held the card in stupefaction. The Shadow smiled as he stepped toward the midway. He had seen what the sucker had not noticed.

When the shill had landed the card, the operator had displayed it as 21 by holding his thumb over the bar of a 7. Thus the sucker, after aiming a few dozen darts for what he thought was a sure win, now found himself holding a tag that actually bore the number 27. He was grunting in disgust as the operator handed him a two-cent whistle instead of a dollar doll.

The Shadow, meanwhile, was nearing the center of the midway. He saw the destination that the stern-faced men had chosen. They were picking their course to a little tent off in back of the Ten-in-One.

While the pair stopped in front of the closed flaps, The Shadow circled around another tent. He wound up in back of the tent that the two men were watching. He found a hole in the canvas and peered through.

THE SOLVAS were alone in the tent. The professor had opened the drawer of a wardrobe trunk. He was taking the money that his wife had brought. He put the large bills in one partition of the drawer; from another section, he brought out a stack of ones.

“Here’s two hundred more,” he said, in a low tone. “Take them out and peddle them around the concessions. Don’t pass more than fifty at any one joint—”

The professor broke off suddenly. His jaw dropped. His wife turned to find him staring at the front of the tent. The flaps had opened. The two stern-faced men had entered. One was holding a levelled gun while he displayed a badge.

“Got you, eh?” growled the intruder. “Well — come along. Grab that queer, Dunham. Take the whole drawer-full.”

The second man nodded. He shoved The Solvas aside and pulled out stacks of one-dollar bills. The mind readers began a sudden protest. The man with the gun stopped them.

“No talk from you two,” he ordered. “You’re coming with us. Quietly, too. You and your phony mazuma. Ready, Dunham?”

“All ready, Slade.”

“Our car’s off past this tent,” informed the man with the gun as he eyed The Solvas coldly. “Dunham will lead the way. You’ll follow. Come on. We’re moving.”

The Shadow watched The Solvas make their forced departure. A soft laugh came from his thin lips after the mind readers and their captors were gone. The Shadow had spotted the stern-faced men as secret-service agents. He had guessed their purpose here; he had witnessed the culmination of their efforts.

Looking for passers of counterfeit money, the federal men had found The Solvas. Quietly and efficiently, they had captured the mind readers and were taking them from the circus lot.

THE barker at Jubo’s tent was shouting out his spiel as The Shadow again appeared upon the midway. Still in the character of a visitor to the circus grounds, The Shadow walked up and bought a ticket. He entered the tent and studied the freak in the pit.

The hidden squawker was giving raucous roars from its hiding place beneath the canvas. Jubo was grinning from his pit while he clutched viciously at squirming snakes.

The Shadow watched the antics of the geek. He studied the brownstained face. A smile appeared upon the thin lips of The Shadow’s masklike countenance.

Leaving the geek show, The Shadow strolled toward the bannered front of the Ten-in-One. Captain Guffy had just finished his last bally. The crowd was entering for the final show. The Shadow bought a ticket and followed.

Inconspicuous in the crowd, The Shadow listened to Cap’s lecture on the various freaks. He eyed Cleed, the languid cigarette fiend. He studied Luke, the tattooed man. He noticed Cap Guffy’s glower when the lecturer stopped at the curtained platform where The Solvas should have been.

Abruptly, Cap passed on to the snake pit occupied by Princess Marxia. He continued his lecture; but all the while, he kept watching for the return of The Solvas. When he reached the last exhibit, he spoke to an attendant who was standing there. The man nodded and left the sideshow. The Shadow knew that Cap had sent him to locate The Solvas.

The attendant returned as Cap finished his lecture. Guffy caught a shake of the fellow’s head. He promptly announced that the show was finished. The crowd headed for the exit.

The Shadow, however, remained. He watched while Cap Guffy approached Princess Marxia and pointed to the platform where The Solvas should have appeared. The snake charmer shrugged her shoulders. Luke, the tattooed man, came from his platform to join the discussion.

The Shadow drew closer. He could hear Cap Guffy’s growl. The owner of the Ten-in-One was angry. Marxia and Luke were nodding in agreement as he spoke.

“I thought they were ready to blow,” asserted Cap, “Well — that’s the end of ‘em. Nobody ever jumps a show of mine and gets back on it.”

Cap turned about. He stopped, face to face with The Shadow. He eyed the countenance before him. He stared at the firm, masklike visage of the waiting stranger. He caught the steady burn of eyes that peered from either side of an aquiline nose.

“Well?” queried Cap. “You here to see me?”

“Yes,” replied The Shadow, quietly. “You are Captain Guffy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“My name is Zoda. I came here to see about joining your outfit.”

“Yeah? What’s your act?”

“Mind reading.”

“Huh?” Cap seemed surprised. “Say — you’re just the guy I want to talk to. Where’s your partner?”

“I work single.”

“Single? How do you get away with that?”

“I have my own methods. I require no partner.”

CAP stared. This was a new one on him. He was used to double acts on the mind reading platform. He was impressed, however, by Zoda’s confident gaze. Cap nodded.

“You’re in,” he announced. “You can use the tent The Solvas lived in. I’ll shove their stuff in one of the trunks. Got your trunk with you?”

“No. I am traveling light. I have a car outside the lot, with some suitcases.”

“I’ll send a punk to get the kiesters. What about books? You’ll need ‘em won’t you?”

“Yes. Do you have any?”

“Over here” — Cap led the way to the curtained platform and opened a box at the rear edge. “Here’s some horoscope books The Solvas were using. I bought the books myself, along with a lot of slum. The Solvas were paying me while they used ‘em. You can have what’s left.

“You’ll work on salary. Twenty a week and cakes. I was paying The Solvas thirty; but there was two of them. What you get from the books is yours. How does that suit you?”

“Satisfactory.”

“All right, Zoda. Any time you want to scoff, go down to the cook tent and charge it up to me. The grub’s good. We all scoff there. That’s where I’m going now. Want to come along?”

“No, thanks. I had dinner in the town. Show me the tent and I’ll move my stuff in.”

Cap led the way to the tent that The Solvas had occupied. He shouted for a couple of roughnecks. A thin smile appeared upon Zoda’s lips as Cliff Marsland appeared with another man. Cap Guffy pointed the trunk that stood in the tent. It was closed; a detail to which the secret-service men had attended before leaving with their prisoners.

“Shove this on one of the trucks,” ordered Cap. “Send some punk in here. I want him to bring some kiesters from a car.”

TEN minutes later, Zoda, the mind reader, stood alone in the tent. His suitcases were lying in a corner. His eyes turned in that direction. His lips formed a thin smile. His hand turned out the light that hung fastened to the tent pole.

Then came the click of an opening bag. After that, the swish of cloth. Two minutes later, a ghostly figure emerged from the tent and moved in spectral fashion away from the closing midway.

The gliding form reached a parked coupe. It entered. The motor buzzed. The coupe rolled away. As it struck the road leading into Burnsville, a soft laugh came from the darkness of the car.

Zoda had become The Shadow. Unseen, unnoticed, he was leaving the circus lot upon a secret errand.