Crime Circus

CHAPTER IX WORD TO THE SHADOW

ANOTHER prosperous evening had ended on the circus lot. The remnants of the crowd were strolling from the midway. The front of the Ten-in-One was closed. Freaks and performers had left their platform, with the exception of the new mind reader. He was arranging his books while Cap Guffy was closing up.

The flaps at the entrance were pushed aside. Guffy, about to bark a challenge at the intruders, stopped as he saw Tex Larch coming in. With the proprietor of the circus was Lucille Lavan. Following them was a thick-faced man: Eric Wernoff, the Animal King.

“Hello, Cap,” greeted Lucille. “We just came up from the office. I wanted to see this new mind reader that everybody is talking about.”

“He’s finished his act,” informed Cap, gruffly. “There he is, though, over on the platform. Come on over if you want to meet him.”

Cap took the visitors to the platform. Zoda gave a profound bow as he was introduced to Lucille Lavan. The girl stated the purpose of her visit.

“We’ve heard a lot about your act,” she said. “They say that you work it single. How in the world — well, how do you manage it without someone in the crowd to have people ask them questions?”

“I let persons write their questions,” came Zoda’s steady response. “For instance” — he reached to a table on the platform and stepped down to the rail — “take this pad and pencil. Write any question that you wish. Then tear off the paper.”

“And give it to you?”

“No. Keep the paper in your own hand. That’s right. Look at the words that you have written. Raise your hand toward your eyes.”

The girl followed the directions, keeping the writing toward herself. Zoda shook his head. His lips formed a thin smile.

“A bit higher.” He reached forward and grasped the girl’s right wrist lightly. “On a level with your eyes so that you can read and concentrate. That’s right.”

A mirror glimmered from the palm of Zoda’s left hand. The mind reader was the only one who saw it; for the back of his hand was toward the others. His keen eyes saw the reflection of the words that Lucille had written. They were in reverse; yet Zoda read them with a glimpse. He stepped back to the platform.

“Fold the paper,” he ordered. “Press it lightly against your forehead — thus.”

Lucille nodded and copied Zoda’s action. While she held the paper slip, Zoda stared steadily toward her eyes; then spoke in a solemn tone.

“Your question,” he stated, “is a simple one. You wish to know if the future holds luck for you. I can answer it. Your fortune is already made. Others know what you have not yet learned. That is all.”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Lucille. “This slip of paper was never out of my hand! What do you think of it Tex — and you, Eric?”

“Very goot,” responded Eric Wernoff. “I haff seen nothing so clever before this time. Very goot.”

IT was plain that the animal trainer had not detected Zoda’s smooth trickery. The action of touching Lucille’s wrist had been well accomplished, in a most natural fashion.

Tex Larch was baffled also; but it was plain that he was thinking of something that Zoda had said. His weatherbeaten face was stern as his shrewd eyes studied the masklike visage of the mind reader.

“Let’s go back to the office, Lucille,” suggested Tex, gruffly. “I’ve got some business there. Come along. We’ll see you later, Cap.”

“I’ll walk along with you,” responded Guffy. “I’m going down to scoff. I’ll keep on to the cook tent.”

He started to follow the others; then paused and waved them ahead. He turned back to speak to Zoda.

“Those boxes of yours are in town,” he told the mind reader. “They came into the station tonight. I’ll send down for them in the morning. What’re you going to do? Rig up this platform different?”

“Yes. I intend to place pillars by the rail; with steps leading down to them. My act will be different then. I shall be closer to the spectators.”

“That sounds like a good flash. Your act is a knock-out, Zoda; it was a break for me when The Solvas jumped the show.”

“Have you heard from them?”

“Yeah. They wrote in saying they were going to join up with another outfit. Said I’d hear from them later, so I could ship their stuff.”

“Mr. Larch has left,” reminded Zoda, in his even-toned voice. “Weren’t you going with him, Cap?”

“No,” responded Guffy. “I was going along down the midway; that’s all. I changed my mind, though. I’m not talking much with Tex Larch right now. He’s a good scout — a trooper like myself — but he’s got his business and I’ve got mine. Going to scoff with me down at the cook tent, Zoda?”

“Sorry,” replied the mind reader. “I am very seldom hungry after the show. I shall see you later, Captain.”

Guffy left the tent by himself. Zoda remained on the platform for a short while; then followed and made his way toward the tent that had formerly been the living quarters of The Solvas.

WHILE The Shadow — as Zoda — had been demonstrating his act to Lucille Lavan, other events had been moving on the circus lot. Cliff Marsland, down by the circus tent, had run into Hank, the first man who had shown him a red circle.

“See that tent?” Hank pointed out an isolated spot where a faint glow showed through brownish canvas. “We’re covering it. Sneak over to the side of that first truck. Don’t go any closer to the tent — and see that nobody else does.”

“Right,” agreed Cliff.

Reaching the truck, The Shadow’s agent posted himself as a member of the guarding group. He knew that others who carried the red circle must be in the vicinity. Most of the lights had been turned off along the midway; pitch blackness reigned in this portion of the lot, except for the dull light from the secluded tent.

Until tonight, Cliff’s only inkling of crime had been the presence of the mobsters who formed part of the circus crew. He knew that some of the Malligan-Zinn gang were established as ticket sellers and concessionaires. Cliff knew nothing about the counterfeiting end of the game, for the roughnecks were not used as passers of the queer currency.

Cliff had decided that Croaker Zinn was with the outfit. Yet Cliff had not seen the mobleader. The only two persons who might have contact with Croaker were Luke and Princess Marxia, for they had steered Cliff into the red circle.

Mobsters — all pretended roughnecks — were covering the lighted tent. To Cliff, that meant that a meeting must be under way. Hank’s order not to approach too close to the tent was indication that even the mobsmen were to remain in ignorance of the persons at the meeting. Cliff knew that the mobsmen would obey the order to keep their distance.

That was the very reason why Cliff decided to approach. He was one of a cordon stretched around the tent. The darkness was thick. It offered opportunity. Easing away from the truck, Cliff dropped to his hands and knees and groped his way toward the dull light.

He reached the tent without encountering any obstacles. Crawling with hand against the canvas, Cliff found the flap as he listened to the mumble of voices from within the tent. Lying flat on the ground, Cliff raised a tiny peephole and peered into the lighted interior.

Facing him was Luke, the tattooed man. At Luke’s side was the woman called Princess Marxia. Cliff was not surprised to see them here. But the sight of a third figure brought a silent gasp to his lips. Seated cross-legged on the ground was Cleed, the Cigarette Fiend!

The man began to speak as Cliff watched. The harsh tone of his voice — it was giving the first words that Cliff had ever heard Cleed utter — was enough to reveal the man’s identity. Cleed, the pretended dope, was Croaker Zinn!

CLIFF suddenly realized why his acceptance into the band had been a prompt one. Cleed’s platform was next to Luke’s. Thus Croaker Zinn, disguised by his pasty face, had looked Cliff over and passed the word of approval to Luke.

“The Feds are watching all right,” came Croaker’s growl. “They grabbed The Solvas like they did the other saps that we used for blinds. That makes the third grab.”

“The Solvas can’t tell ‘em nothing,” put in Luke. “I don’t see how it hurts us. Leave a note for another sucker, with one of those phony dollar bills. How about one of the guys on the Ferris wheel?”

“We’ve got to quit shoving the queer,” decided Croaker. “The Feds ain’t dumb, like dicks. Getting the same story from three people will show them that there’s something bigger than they thought.

“We’re laying off on the queer until I talk it over with the big shot. The vacation won’t hurt anybody. We’ll wait a while. That’s all.”

“But you’ve got to keep on feeding dough to your gorillas,” protested Luke. “Sending real mazuma around the circle ain’t going to please the big shot while he’s got nothing coming in. I know he’s letting you handle the mob so he don’t have to look like he’s with it; but he didn’t pin any medal on you the last time you quit shoving the queer.”

“No?” questioned Croaker. “Well, guess again, Luke. I’m handling things with the big shot. I’m close to him. We figured this would be coming. We’ve got something else beside the queer. Listen — these gorillas that are working as roughnecks ain’t just ornaments. It’s going to be their turn while we’re laying off the queer.”

“You know the password — both of you. The one I told you to keep until you needed it. Well, I’ll tell you when to start it. When it goes round the circle, there’ll be five gorillas who will know what to do. Neither of you know the game that I’ve been holding up my sleeve. It’s just as well you didn’t.

“We don’t have to shove the queer. This new gag will do the business. You’ll get my tip in a couple of nights, Luke. Pass it to Marxia; then both of you shoot the word along. We’ll pull in as much dough as we’ve been getting with the queer.”

Croaker arose. He reached for the light. Cliff Marsland wriggled away from the tent as Luke began to ask some question. Cliff was almost back to the truck when the light went out. He gained his objective and waited there.

A sound came to Cliff’s ears. The Shadow’s agent fancied that he heard someone moving near the truck. Was it a spy, sent around the cordon, to make sure that all the watchers had remained at their posts? As Cliff listened, the creeping ceased. Then came a flashlight, blinking toward the truck.

“Are you there?”

It was Hank’s voice. Cliff grunted an affirmative response and received a growled order to move along. Hank went on his way. Cliff realized that Hank had been watching the light in the tent. He had allowed time for the occupants to move out; then he had come to disperse the watchers.

LUKE and Marxia, with Cleed — otherwise Croaker — were waiting somewhere in the darkness. With the cordon gone, they would sneak back toward the Ten-in-One, unseen by friends as well as enemies. Cliff sauntered off through the darkness, obeying Hank’s injunction.

Heading toward a tent that he occupied with other roughnecks, Cliff stopped suddenly. He was sure that he heard footsteps following his own. He moved along and stopped again; once more, he sensed an echo.

When he reached the tent, Cliff turned on a light and looked around. None of the other roughnecks were here. Empty cots, suitcases and boxes were all that Cliff saw. After a suspicious glance toward the flap that he had closed behind him, Cliff pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. Producing a fountain pen, he wrote a coded message and sealed it in an envelope which he pressed upon the top of a box.

The envelope lay before him as Cliff was putting the pen back in his pocket. A faint rustle showed at the tent flap. Forgetting the envelope, Cliff pounced to the front and thrust his body through the canvas. He seized a moving form and grappled with it.

Catching his antagonist off balance, Cliff whirled the fellow around and sent him sprawling into the tent. Pouncing in, Cliff crouched above the man whom he had captured. He found himself staring into the brownish face of Jubo the Geek!

As Cliff stood ready to resume the attack, the grinning wild man plucked at the sleeve of his jersey. As the garment crept up, Cliff saw a red mark on Jubo’s arm. It was the circle that showed its owner to be one of Croaker’s band.

Cliff pulled up his own sleeve, Jubo saw the tattoo mark. Rising, the geek grinned again as he moved in crouching fashion toward the tent flap. Cliff allowed him to go unmolested. He heard Jubo slink off through the darkness.

Cliff was perturbed. Why had Jubo followed him here? Until this encounter, Cliff had not suspected that Jubo belonged to the crime crew. Cliff’s worry began to increase. It was possible that Jubo had been working as a rover, going the rounds to watch the cordon.

Against this was the fact that Hank had made no provision for such a prowler. Jubo in circling the conference tent, would naturally have been challenged by every one on watch. Then it occurred to Cliff that Jubo might have been another watcher. The geek could have heard Cliff crawling by the truck and followed him to make sure that he was a member of the band.

Cliff smiled. He felt that his red circle had squared him with Jubo, just as the geek’s tattoo mark had made it right with Cliff. That point settled, The Shadow’s agent remembered his important envelope. He swung toward the box; then stopped short.

A hand had raised the side of the tent by the box. An arm was coming inward from solid blackness. Gloved fingers were resting on the envelope. As Cliff watched, the hand moved away, carrying the envelope with it.

The Shadow! Cliff’s chief had come to gain the report prepared for him. He had been waiting to get this message before Cliff left to mail it to New York.

A smile of confidence crept over Cliff’s features as the side of the tent dropped to cover the departing hand. With The Shadow close at hand, Cliff felt ready for any emergency that might arise.

Five minutes later, a swishing sound occurred in a small tent. Then came the clicking of the clasp on a suitcase. A hand pressed the light switch. Zoda, the mind reader, was revealed by the glare. His hands opened an envelope and read an inked message. The writing faded. Zoda tore up the blank sheet.

The Shadow had received Cliff Marsland’s message. He had learned that Cleed and Croaker Zinn were one. He had gained a report of the conference in the tent. Cloak, hat and gloves were packed away. As Zoda, The Shadow was prepared for coming crime.