Cyro

CHAPTER XII THE SHADOW DECIDES

DINNER had ended at the Gaudrin mansion. The event had proven a gala one for both Danforth Gaudrin and his son Luke. Each had entertained a guest; both the honored visitors were millionaires.

Dunwood Marr and Lamont Cranston had found much in common. Mutual acquaintances, common interest in aviation and love of travel had been their subjects of discourse. Yet it had been plain from the start that their impressions had differed. Marr mentioned the fact while they were sipping coffee and lighting their cigars.

“I still like seaplanes, Cranston,” he observed. “They give you the water-thrill of a speed boat, combined with the zest of flight. Landings are uniform as a rule; but choppy water can give you all the excitement you desire. I’ve tried an autogiro once. I didn’t care for it.”

“You need more experience,” returned Cranston. “The gyro affords more interesting episodes than any other type of aircraft. It combines certainty with uncertainty.”

“Why the uncertainty, Cranston? I thought they could land safely anywhere.”

“They almost can. That is why they tempt you to try the impossible. Just as in traveling, Marr. It is one thing to go through danger spots, keeping close to beaten paths. It is another to throw yourself into the untrod byways, where danger can surround you.”

“About Timbuktu and Tibet — you’ve spoken of those places, Cranston. I’ve never been to either. I suppose I have missed thrills that you have gained.”

“You have, Marr. And yet” — with Cranston’s thin smile, The Shadow turned to Exeter — “I suppose that in Australia, Exeter, you have had experiences that can equal any of mine.”

“Hardly,” replied Exeter, With a shake of his head. “I suppose you refer to the regions where the Bushmen are found. I’ve kept clear of those districts, Mr. Cranston. I’ve spent most of my life in Melbourne and Sydney, except for a few trips to England.”

“You were in Paris, Reggie,” reminded Alicia.

“Yes,” said Exeter. “I always stopped there coming home from England. Long stops, too. Months at a time. No, Mr. Cranston, outside of a vacation in Tasmania, I’ve had very little taste of outdoor life.”

Conversation lagged. Alicia arose and suggested that the guests sojourn on the veranda. Exeter accepted. Marr and Cranston remained with Luke and his father, to finish their cigars.

“Even Mexico is too wild for me,” remarked Marr. “Those trips that I made across the mountains to my mines in Hidalgo were slow and troublesome. Bandits were a constant menace.”

“Why didn’t you go by seaplane?” came Cranston’s question.

“Impossible,” replied Marr. “No place for a landing.”

“Which shows the merits of the autogiro, Marr. I flew into Mexico, some time ago, and landed perfectly in a forgotten valley, right into the midst of a surviving Aztec tribe, on the flat rock where they were holding a religious ceremony.”[1]

“Amazing! How did you escape death?”

“They took me for an ancient god. A messenger from the moon. They gave me a marvelous emerald as a token of their esteem. They greatly regretted my departure.”

“What an experience!”

“Perhaps we might fly together to Hidalgo. I should like to see those mines of yours.”

“It’s a go, Cranston. But not until a month from now. I have arranged a yachting cruise from Florida.”

“IN the Nautilus?” inquired Danforth Gaudrin.

“Yes,” replied Marr. “After I flew back to Florida, I told my friends that I had purchased the Nautilus. They were enthusiastic and induced me to plan a cruise. That is why I sent my seaplane back alone. I shall return to Florida in the Nautilus.”

“Father’s yacht,” explained Luke, to Cranston, “Mr. Marr bought it about a month ago.”

“After it was chartered,” put in Danforth Gaudrin. “A London scientist — Professor Pearson Babcock — acquired the Nautilus for a coral-hunting cruise. We expect the yacht to arrive in Lake Pontchartrain within a few days.”

“It comes up that way from the Gulf, you know,” added Luke. “Through the channels.”

“Too bad you are leaving for New York tomorrow,” remarked Marr. “Otherwise, Cranston, I should insist that you go by way of Florida with me. I intend to go to Miami; and the trip around the Keys should prove most interesting.”

“I should like to take it, Marr,” agreed The Shadow. “But my stay in New Orleans is necessarily limited. However, I shall return South and will meet you in Florida, after your coming cruise is ended.”

OUT on the veranda, Alicia Gaudrin was talking to Reginald Exeter. The girl was discussing the artist whom they had met that noon.

“Monsieur Brilliard admires me as a type,” explained Alicia. “When I met him at Esther Letkin’s, he became quite enthusiastic about doing my portrait. I told him that I could not afford to pay for one.”

“But he remained insistent?” inquired Exeter.

“Yes,” replied Alicia. “He told me that he was here for a vacation. Painting only as he chose. The matter of money was inconsequential. He had already turned down some attractive offers; on the contrary, he was doing portraits without charge. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd?”

“Not at all,” declared Exeter. “All artists are temperamental. Brilliard apparently has a reputation. Painting only for a price would go against his grain.”

“Then you think that I am right in allowing him to do my portrait?”

“Absolutely, Alicia. I must congratulate Brilliard upon his rare judgment.”

“In choosing a setting?”

“No; in choosing a subject.”

The girl smiled as she heard Exeter’s flattery. The young man reached out and received the girl’s hand. He drew closer to her chair.

“The others will soon be here, Reggie,” reminded the girl. “Perhaps we should be found in formal conversation. Talking about seaplanes, or yachts.”

“I suppose so.” Exeter arose and strolled across the veranda. “Speaking of yachts, Alicia, the Nautilus should soon be due. Has your father heard any new word from the captain?”

“Only that the Nautilus is homeward bound.”

“From where?”

“Some island in the Gulf of Mexico — where Professor Babcock had divers plunging for his precious coral.”

“Funny old duck, the professor. Seemed so distressed about leaving me here that I promised him I’d wait about until he returned from the cruise.”

“And after he gets back?”

“Then I’ll have no excuse for staying here.”

“You have a reason, Reggie. The reason is that you are always welcome here.”

“There’s another reason, Alicia.”

“I should like to hear it, Reggie.”

“Because” — the man paused close by the girl’s chair — “because, Alicia, I love you—”

ALICIA’S gaze was straight into Exeter’s eyes. As the man paused, almost hesitant in declaring his love, the girl smiled and nodded; then quickly raised her finger to her lips.

Anticipating some interruption, Exeter stepped away and turned toward the door that led from the house. He saw the others coming toward the porch.

Marr and Cranston stepped into view; then Danforth Gaudrin and his son Luke. The four joined Exeter and Alicia. New conversation began. Soon Luke had an opportunity for remarks.

“Sorry my friend Lence couldn’t be here,” he said. “You’d like Tracy. He’s a fine chap. I’ll invite him out when I hear from him. He might be up at the Club Caprice tonight. I was going to suggest a run up there. What say, governor” — he turned to his father — “don’t you feel sporting enough to pay a visit?”

“I have no objections to the Club Caprice,” responded Danforth Gaudrin. “But I do consider it a mistake for young men of limited means to squander what money they do possess. In my youthful days, I did not indulge in too much gambling. It ceases to become a pleasure when one steps beyond his depth.”

“Quite right, governor,” agreed Luke, in a humoring tone. “I overdid it when I started playing at the Club Caprice. I’ve toned down a bit since then. I even have a credit at the place.”

“Then cash it in,” suggested Danforth Gaudrin.

“I can’t do that, governor,” put in Luke, glibly. “They treated me well when I was below the line. I have to jolly them a bit, now that I’m making out better. What say we roll up there for an hour? How about it, Exeter? Feel like doing the chauffeur act tonight?”

“If it suits Alicia,” replied Exeter.

“I’m agreed,” declared the girl.

HALF an hour later, the crowd arrived at the Club Caprice. Alicia favored dancing; she and Reginald Exeter went into the nightclub side of the establishment. Luke Gaudrin headed the others into the gaming room.

Obtaining a moderate supply of chips, Luke began to play a roulette wheel Marr and Cranston joined in the game, while Danforth Gaudrin looked on. Luke copied Cranston’s combinations. All play was conservative, and the elder Gaudrin nodded approvingly as he watched the care with which his son hazarded his chips.

Tony, one of the gaming-room bodyguards, was standing near the roulette wheel. Luke had a chance to speak to him. Only The Shadow overheard the young man’s words, as Luke whispered:

“Ask Royal to drop out, will you, Tony?”

Tony nodded and disappeared. Shortly afterward, Royal Medbrook strolled from the office. Luke, watching, saw him. Ending the play, he beckoned to the others. They walked over toward the faro table, where Luke introduced his father and the two millionaires to Medbrook.

The meeting seemed a chance one to Danforth Gaudrin. The Shadow, however, knew that Luke’s purpose was to impress Royal Medbrook; to make the gambler believe that Luke had squared matters with his father. Marr’s presence, too, was a guarantee that Luke had talked straight on the night before.

Medbrook strolled a way past the faro table. As he did, The Shadow left the group; in leisurely fashion he neared the door of the card room and paused there. Rafferty was at his accustomed spot; watching for Royal, he did not see The Shadow close at hand.

Nor did Medbrook, as Rafferty approached him. Chameleonlike, The Shadow, motionless in the guise of Cranston, was half obscured beside the drapery of a wall. Listening, he caught a buzzed conversation.

“You called New Orleans?”

The question came from Medbrook. Rafferty nodded.

“Told them there was no sign of the bird that the New York dick was after,” informed Rafferty. “Said you’d made a final check-up tonight. The chief said that they’re going to take a stab at Frenchtown.”

“I don’t think they’ll find the fellow there, either,” commented Medbrook. “They’ve got to cooperate, though. That’s the way the police work.”

Medbrook strolled to the office. Stopping part way, he glanced about. He saw the tall figure of Lamont Cranston moving toward the faro table. Medbrook’s eyes narrowed as he continued to the office.

Ten minutes later, Rafferty came in to speak to the gambler. Royal was sitting at the desk; his hand was beside the telephone. Royal beckoned.

“This man Cranston,” he remarked. “Was he listening to us when we talked?”

“Didn’t notice him,” returned Rafferty. “He’s still outside, Royal. The others are leaving; but he isn’t going in with them. Want me to keep an eye on him?”

“No,” returned the gambler, with a slight smile. “I just called a friend of mine. He’s looking up the hotel where Cranston’s stopping. If he isn’t O.K. - well, never mind Rafferty. I’ll attend to it.”

ONE hour later, The Shadow left the Club Caprice. He entered a taxicab and the driver pulled away from the entrance. As the cab swung toward the fronting highway, The Shadow’s keen eyes spotted a figure sliding to a car that had stopped a hundred feet beyond the entrance to the Club Caprice. Its lights were dim; evidently the machine had just arrived.

“Where to, boss?” queried the taxi driver, shoving his face to the open window. “Whereabouts in the city are you—”

The driver gasped. He was staring into the muzzle of a leveled automatic. The Shadow had drawn the gun just after the swing to the highway. Above the barrel of the .45 were eyes that flashed terror to the taxi driver’s thumping heart.