The Golden Quest

CHAPTER VII. ON THE LIMITED

REX BRODFORD awoke. He was dizzy, swaying. His mind held a confusion. Gunfire, fighting men, grogginess. Bright lights, darkness. Then motion, through darkness; and finally this awakening. He was still moving; but it was daylight now.

Blurred vision cleared. Rex found himself looking out through a window at a passing landscape. He was clad in pajamas, resting in the lower berth of a Pullman compartment. He wondered how he had arrived here.

A door opened. A young man stepped in from the passage and closed the door behind him. Rex saw a keen-cut face; with lips that wore a quiet, pleasant smile. Rex grinned weakly in response. “Where am I?” he questioned.

“Where you expected to be,” came the reply. “Traveling through Canada, over the Michigan Central.”

“And who are you?” asked Rex.

“My name is Vincent,” responded the other man. “Harry Vincent. A friend who happened along in time to help you out of a jam.”

Rex looked puzzled. Harry sat down on a chair and studied him. Then Harry spoke.

“You were in a mix-up,” explained Harry, “and it didn’t appear to be your fault. Mobsters fighting — the cab I was in landed there just at the end of the brawl. I saw some fellow crack you with a gun.”

“That was when I tried to get out of the cab the second time,” recalled Rex. “After the firing had stopped.”

“I shoved you in my cab,” resumed Harry, “and brought your bag along. The driver I had was a real sort. He figured the same as I did — that you were a victim of unfortunate circumstances. I looked in your wallet for identification papers. I learned your name — Rex Brodford — and I found your tickets for this train.”

“So you left New York on my account—”

“Not exactly. You see, I live in Michigan. St. Joe’s County. I had figured on taking a trip there very shortly. So I decided I might help you out in the bargain. There was still time to make your train. So I had the taxi driver bring me to the Grand Central. I went in and bought a ticket. I also reserved this compartment.”

“But how did you get me aboard?”

“You were just about able to navigate.” Harry smiled in recollection. “So the taxi driver and I brought you in between us. The man at the gate thought you were drunk. We staggered you about a bit.”

“Good work,” laughed Rex. “I remember it now — going through the station. But I didn’t know where I was.”

“How are you feeling now?”

“Pretty fair. Something of a headache, though.”

“You need breakfast.” Harry arose.

“I’m going in the club car for a smoke. Get dressed and meet me in there. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

FIFTEEN minutes later, Harry and Rex were facing each other across a table in the dining car. Other passengers had breakfasted. They were practically alone. Harry thrust a newspaper over to Rex.

“Take a look at it,” he said in a low tone. “A Buffalo newspaper. Tells about a mob fight in New York. Looks like those mobsters mistook you for a fellow named Bugs Barwold. They’re looking for Chuck Haggart, who started all the trouble.”

Rex read the account, nodded, and passed the newspaper back to Harry. He started to dig into a grapefruit. Harry watched him.

“Rather odd, though,” commented Harry, “that you should have been dragged into the mess. Where were you coming from in that cab?”

“From my home,” replied Rex.

“And going to the Grand Central?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” returned Rex.

“Then how did you get way over by the Club Renaldo?” questioned Harry. “What was the matter with the cab driver? He was a mile out of the way.”

“I remember that,” acknowledged Rex. “You know, he told me he was taking a detour to skip traffic. I hadn’t been in New York for ten years—”

“That explains it,” broke in Harry. “The fellow was stalling you. I’ll tell you something, Brodford. This looks like a frame-up. You were yanked into that ambush.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

“But if they thought I was this mobleader they were after—”

“They wouldn’t have thought so if the taxi man hadn’t played it the way he did.”

“You mean somebody hired him to drag me into the trap?”

“It looks like it — if there happened to be any reason why someone wanted to prevent your trip to Michigan.”

Rex Brodford nodded soberly. He was about to speak when Harry Vincent stopped him.

“Let’s talk it over after breakfast,” suggested The Shadow’s agent. “We can chat when we get back to the compartment.”

They finished the meal in casual fashion; but all the while, Harry was planning the conversation that was to come. More had happened than he had told Rex. Harry had found time to report to Burbank after the fray. Word had come through from The Shadow; it was in response to his chief’s bidding that Harry had taken Rex aboard the midnight train.

Harry had learned about Jubal. It had become his job to learn of Rex’s contact with the swindler. After that, a report to The Shadow. For The Shadow had definitely linked Jubal with criminals in New York’s underworld.

Breakfast finished, the young men went back to the compartment. Harry was ready to begin new tactics that would lead on Rex’s conversation; but he decided first to let Rex talk for himself. The plan proved perfect.

The porter had made up seats to replace the berths. Sitting by the window, the two men lighted cigars.

While Harry was taking the first puffs at his perfecto, Rex began to talk.

“VINCENT,” he declared, in a confidential tone, “I’ve been thinking over what you said in the dining car. I think there’s a lot to it. Those killers may have been sent to get me.”

“Instead of Bugs Barwold?” inquired Harry.

“Yes,” returned Rex, “and I’ll tell you why. I received something like a threat last night — from a man who admitted himself a crook.”

“A mobleader?”

“No, a swindler. A man named James Jubal.”

“Jubal?” Harry was reflective. “An odd name — it seems to me I have heard it.”

“He sells mining stock.”

“In Michigan?”

“In a Michigan mine.”

“I’ve heard of him!” exclaimed Harry. “He started operations out in Detroit some time ago. Tried to sell stock to some bankers. They wouldn’t listen to him.”

“Why not?”

“Because they knew that gold mines were a doubtful proposition. Particularly the one he was boosting — wherever it was. He had to get away from Michigan in order to find suckers. I heard about him through a chap who owns a lot of mine land in St. Joe’s County. This friend of mine mentioned the name. Jubal — James Jubal.”

“That’s the man.”

“Did he try to sell you stock?”

“Yes. In the Chalice mine. But I wouldn’t fall for it. Then he offered to buy some stock in an old gold mine that my uncle owned. The Quest mine.”

“I never heard of it. Is the Quest mine in Michigan?”

Rex Brodford nodded. He saw that Harry Vincent was interested in the details. He knew that Harry was a friend whom he could trust.

“Both mines,” explained Rex, “are situated on Lake Chalice. The Quest mine is lost. The Chalice mine appears to be a crooked proposition. But I decided to investigate the Quest mine, because of the stock that I own in it; stock left me by my uncle.”

“I see,” nodded Harry.

“My lawyer, Cyrus Witherby, thinks that the stock is worthless,” resumed Rex. “He told me that I would be lucky to sell it for two cents on the dollar. Oddly, that was the very price that Jubal offered me for it.”

“But Jubal is a swindler—”

“And that was why he wanted the stock. To sell it to dupes. I refused to let him have it. He became threatening before he left. That fact, Vincent, has given me an idea.”

“That the Quest mine might still be good?”

“Yes. And that Jubal knows it. By killing me, he would have thrown the estate to charity, through the terms of my uncle’s will.”

“But that would not have given him the stock.”

“It would have left the stock with Witherby. The lawyer does not value it. He would sell to anyone who offered him the price that Jubal promised. I think, Vincent, that Jubal was waiting for my uncle to die, hoping to deal with me. Now he wants to try Witherby.”

HARRY VINCENT pondered. The theory seemed a good one. Information for The Shadow; but Harry wanted more.

“What sort of a chap is Witherby?” he questioned.

“An old fogy,” returned Rex. “But he can’t deal with Jubal while I am still in the picture. I’ll wire Witherby from Detroit, telling him to hold the stock in safe deposit.”

“While you look for the Quest mine?”

“Yes. And I shall have cooperation in my search.”

“Through whom?”

“A man named Cortland Laspar.”

Harry looked up at mention of the name. He had heard of Cortland Laspar.

“Do you mean the lumber magnate?” he asked.

“Yes,” returned Rex. “Do you know who he is?”

“Certainly,” stated Harry. “He has made a fortune through his lumber enterprises. If Laspar is your friend, he should prove a good one.”

“He is more than an ordinary friend,” explained Rex. “He was once associated with my uncle. He holds the timber rights on the land that belongs to the Quest Gold Mine. He has invited me to make his lodge, on Lake Chalice, the headquarters for my search.”

“Good,” decided Harry. “That ought to offset Jubal. And yet, if Jubal is as dangerous as he appears to be, you may be in for new trouble. Which worries me” — Harry smiled — “particularly after helping you out of one scrape.”

Rex eyed his new friend steadily. In Harry Vincent, he saw an adventurous spirit that rivaled his own. The reply that Rex gave was spontaneous.

“Why not come along, then,” he suggested. “If you’re out for a vacation, you can get it at Lake Chalice. I believe there’s something there, Vincent.”

“I might go up there with you,” decided Harry. “Just for a few days, anyway. I tell you what I can do, Brodford. I bought a ticket to Detroit, like yours, intending to pay further fare through from there.

“But I’ll stop off. I’ll call home and New York, by long distance. While you get in touch with this lawyer of yours. If it works out, we can travel up to Lake Chalice together.”

“Agreed,” responded Rex, thrusting his hand forward.

Harry received the shake. It was a tentative bargain between new friends. But the smile that Harry wore had added significance. For Harry knew that this arrangement would be in keeping with The Shadow’s plans.

A report to The Shadow. To prove what The Shadow had already divined: that Rex Brodford’s life was in jeopardy. A trail of crime had begun; one that involved Rex Brodford. The Shadow would intend to follow that trail to the finish.

And for a beginning, none better could be had than this alliance between Rex Brodford and Harry Vincent. Together, they could encounter adventure. Whatever concerned Rex would concern The Shadow’s agent also.

As the limited sped onward to Detroit, Harry Vincent was picturing the future. He knew — with positiveness — that he would be ordered to go through with this projected plan. That he, like Rex Brodford, would soon be a guest of Cortland Laspar in the lodge on the shore of Lake Chalice.