The Condor

CHAPTER XIX. THE NEW ALLY

“MY credentials,” stated Carl Lieth suavely, presenting a cardcase to Sheriff Brock. “And these gentlemen?”

“Mr. Marquette and Mr. Vincent,” introduced the sheriff. He studied the credentials while Lieth was shaking hands with Vic and Harry. “Say! You’re a private detective, eh? Take a look at these, Marquette.”

“Marquette” — Lieth was stroking his chin as Vic examined the cards — “I know the name. Say — are you Vic Marquette of the secret service?”

Marquette had completed his examination of the cards. They attested Lieth to be the representative of a private detective bureau in the Middle West. Satisfied by the credentials, Vic nodded in response to Lieth’s question.

“Good,” decided Lieth. “Maybe you’re after the same man I am. Burton Covell is his name. Did you ever hear of him?”

Marquette shook his head.

“A second-rate crook,” stated Lieth, “but he pulled a good one when he swiped some uncut diamonds from a big Chicago firm. There’s some talk that maybe Covell was bumped; but I met a jane he used to know and she told me the names of different towns he’d talked about.

“I’ve started on the rounds. One of the towns was Paulington, and I’d read about a mysterious explosion here. That’s why I came here as soon as I could. Well, what’s up? It looks like you’re after somebody, even if it isn’t Covell.”

“We’re looking for a man named Spadling,” explained Marquette. “He’s handled queer money; worked the green-goods racket; tried blackmail in his time. Any connection between Burton Covell and Clint Spadling?”

“None that I ever heard of,” returned Lieth. “But they sound like they’d he a team. Have you located Spadling?”

“We don’t know. Tonight, we’re raiding a place called Mountview Lodge. I wouldn’t say ‘raid’ was the word — we’re going in quietly, with a search warrant; but we may have to be tough, if any one makes trouble.”

“Is Mountview Lodge near here?”

“Over on the other side of the slope. It’s a swanky place, owned by a man named Griscom Treft. That name mean anything?”

A headshake from Lieth; then the private dick stared curiously.

“What grounds have you for the raid?” he questioned. “You’ll be out of luck, won’t you, if Spadling isn’t there?”

“No,” put in Sheriff Brock. “We’re searching for the dynamiters who blew up that cabin. But if we find Spadling there and recognize him, we’ll make a grab.”

“And suppose Spadling is hiding?”

“He’s not likely to be,” chuckled the sheriff. “We’re making a surprise entry. We’ll line everybody up. If Spadling is in the bunch, Marquette will pick him out.”

“Not bad,” approved Lieth. “Then Marquette is going in with you?”

“Yes,” replied Brock. “He’ll be one of those close to the house. Maybe he’ll just get a glimpse of Spadling. If he does, it will be enough.”

LIETH tugged a cigarette from his pocket, thrust it between his lips, snapped a lighter and puffed in rapid fashion. He paced across the room; then turned about and said:

“It’s good, sheriff. The right way to work. And if it would do with Spadling, it would do with Covell, too.”

“You mean you know Covell when you see him?” queried Marquette, while Brock sat puzzled.

“I could spot his ugly mug a mile away,” returned Lieth. “Big chin, with a long scar across it. Funny, squinty eyes. Sheriff, I’m mighty glad I arrived here tonight. My coming is going to double your chances. If Spadling isn’t there, Covell may be. How about it? Am I one of the shock troops?”

Brock looked to Marquette, who signified his approval. The sheriff nodded.

“We’re taking thirty men,” he explained. “We’re going to make camp on the private road just below Mountview Lodge. We’ll pick men for the raid. They’ll go inside the grounds.”

“And suppose the raid flukes?” queried Lieth.

“We’ll keep the place surrounded,” returned Brock. “Thirty of us will be plenty strong enough. We’re waiting now because—”

Brock broke off. Again, footsteps were coming up the stairs. A man was making protest; angry voices were discounting it. Hank and two deputies appeared. They were dragging Corey with them.

“Picked him off purty, sheriff,” informed the big deputy. “Snatched him right outa that coupe of his. He’s been hollering; but I told him it hadn’t no good. Here’s his keys.”

Corey was looking about with the expression of a trapped rat. The man’s face showed guilt; he was plainly oppressed by fear of the law.

Brock received a ring of keys from Hank. The sheriff dangled them in front of Corey’s eyes.

“Which of these opens the gate?” demanded the sheriff. “Come on, speak up!”

“The big key,” whined Corey. “But I tell you, sheriff, this isn’t right! I haven’t pulled anything. It’s all straight up at the lodge. I was just coming down here to buy supplies. I’ve got the list here in my pocket.”

“Never mind that,” snorted the sheriff. “Hank, you rassle this prisoner over to the town jail. Leave his car there. I’ll keep these keys. Have our cars outside; all the deputies ready. We’re starting.”

Corey eyed all present defiantly. Then Hank and the two deputies dragged the chauffeur from the office.

The sheriff put in a telephone call to Burgess Dowden’s home. He explained that the capture had been made.

“The burgess will take a look in at the jail,” clucked Brock, as he hung up the receiver. “Just to make sure that Corey is nice and comfortable. We’re not going to lose any time in starting. They’ll be expecting Corey back. Come along.”

CARS were pulled up beside the office building when the sheriff and the others arrived. Brock chose a light sedan. He took the wheel and motioned Lieth in beside him. Harry and Vic climbed in back.

Hank arrived beside the car; the deputy had left Corey at the jail, only a half block from Dowden’s office.

Brock gave his instructions so that all could hear.

“Take six men with you in the big car, Hank,” ordered Brock. “You know the fellows we picked. Stop on the road and sneak your bunch up to the big gate.

“When we come along, Marquette’s dropping out; and so is this new man, Lieth. You get in this car along with me and Vincent. While I’m stalling with the gate” — Brock turned his head so that Marquette and Lieth would understand their parts — “two squads sneak through. Three each: one under Marquette, the other with Lieth.

“They’ve got to be close by the house. Get the idea? One bunch at each side of that big veranda. Then we come rolling up in the car. While the folks in the lodge are opening up for Corey, the squads will be sitting ready.

“I’ll flash the search warrant when we get out. That’s the signal for Marquette and Lieth to pile in. Right up on the ends of the porch and into the house.”

Brock paused. It was Harry who voiced a query.

“This is a sedan,” reminded The Shadow’s agent. “Perhaps the people in the lodge will notice immediately that it is not their coupe.”

“That’s what I’m hoping they will do,” laughed Brock. “I want them to come out, kinda suspicious-like. Sort of wondering who’s blowed in on them. Then, by jiminy, the boys come bowling up from the ends of the porch.”

“A flank attack,” approved Marquette. “Good headwork, sheriff.”

“What about the rest of the posse?” queried Hank. “There’s two dozen of them, sheriff.”

“They follow this car,” stated Brock. “They stop on the private road, midway to the lodge. I’ll leave the gate unlocked, so they can come up to support us.”

He signaled for Hank to start. The big deputy went to a large sedan, called the men he wanted and piled them in the car. Hank’s automobile pulled away. Brock gave it a few minute’s leeway; then started his own car.

Harry Vincent looked back as they rolled from Paulington. Behind the sheriff’s sedan came a small cavalcade of motor cars. The posse was following in full strength. Harry made comment to Marquette.

The operative laughed.

“It’s going to be a set-up,” assured Vic. “All we’ve got to do is lay quiet and be ready. How about it, Lieth?”

The new ally looked back from the front seat. His broad grin showed confidence.

“A cinch!” was his comment. “And it brings us in right at the start. Where we belong, Marquette.”

Harry Vincent leaned back against the cushions. He had not gained opportunity to inform Clyde Burke concerning the unexpected arrival of this stranger, Carl Lieth.

That, however, did not matter. The private detective was merely a strengthening factor, in Harry’s estimation. Considering the sheriff’s well-laid plan, Harry decided that, in all probability, The Shadow would this time find no part to play.

Harry’s guess was a poor one. The coming attack was planned as a surprise. It was to prove such; and in its climax, The Shadow was due to play a startling role.