The Silver Scourge

CHAPTER XIII MARQUETTE SEEKS AID

DAYS had passed since the arrival of The Shadow in New Avalon. The machinery which Foulkrod Kendall had started was rolling on of its own momentum. Since his telephone call to Silk Elverton in Clayton Landow’s office, the millionaire had been playing a cagy game.

Foulkrod Kendall did not know of The Shadow’s presence. The millionaire had no idea whatever that Vic Marquette, of the secret service, was in New Avalon. It was simply a matter of policy and natural caution that had caused the millionaire to go back and forth from his office without evidencing a single trace of crooked practice.

Thus, unwittingly, Kendall had checked both The Shadow and Marquette. The Shadow, suspecting Kendall to be crooked, had become a presence at the millionaire’s mansion. His sinister form, unseen, had been there to listen in on Kendall’s telephone calls and conversations.

Besides this, The Shadow had appeared secretly in the town of Hempstead, to observe the actions of Silk Elverton. The smooth crook, laying low, had not even communicated with Foulkrod Kendall.

Vic Marquette’s trouble was his total inability to discover any trace of Cyrus Barbier and Tony Cumo. The secret-service operative had reached the point where he was ready to believe that the two had kept onward in their journey.

The Shadow, with all his deductive skill, was finding the situation a surprising one. He was out to find the link between Kendall and Elverton; that link was missing.

Vic Marquette, on the other hand, had no suspicion whatever that Foulkrod Kendall could be engaged in crime.

Thus, while two observers waited, Kendall’s brilliant counterfeiting scheme was under way. Tim Mecke, working in the factory, and riding on the armored car, helped in the engineering of the first shipment of illegitimate coin.

EVENING had descended upon New Avalon. Vic Marquette, having relieved his mind temporarily by taking in a show at the Kendall Theater, was strolling toward the New Avalon Hotel, carelessly flipping a half dollar that he had received in change at the box office.

The coin clanged as Vic’s finger nail struck it. It fell, with apparent weight, upon Vic’s palm. To Vic Marquette, a man who could quickly spot queer money, this coin was genuine. Little did he realize that it had been stamped out less than three days ago, within the limits of New Avalon!

Though usually observant, Vic Marquette did not suspect that keen eyes were watching him as he crossed the street to the hotel. The secret-service operative walked through the lobby and took the elevator to his room. Here, again, some minutes later, the fact that he was under observation escaped Vic’s notice. The door to an adjoining room, located in an obscure corner, was slightly ajar. Watching eyes and listening ears were behind that barrier.

The Shadow, other investigations completed for the night, had taken up the task of watching Vic Marquette. The master of darkness had undertaken this unique course for a definite purpose.

Crime was brewing in New Avalon. That The Shadow knew. Vic Marquette was in New Avalon. Why? The Shadow intended to learn.

There were many phases of crime which would attract Vic Marquette’s interest; any of them, to be attractive enough for so capable a worker as Marquette, would have to be important.

In the past, The Shadow had crossed Vic Marquette’s trail with startling results. Tonight, here in New Avalon, The Shadow was working on the possibility that a present link could be discovered. What The Shadow knew might be of tremendous value to Marquette; what the secret-service man was seeking might be important to The Shadow.

Vic’s actions indicated resignation. The secret-service operative was beginning to pack his bag. To all intents, he was disgusted with results in New Avalon. Vic picked up the telephone. He learned that a train was leaving for New York within the next half hour. Lifting his bag, Vic prepared to depart.

There was a motion at the obscure door. A creeping splotch of blackness stretched upon the floor. The Shadow was contemplating drastic action — a direct encounter with Vic Marquette. A crisis had arisen. It must be handled.

The tall form of a spectral being appeared at the end of the room. A figure garbed in black cloak — a garment that showed a crimson lining as it swished slightly in the air — was standing in full view. Burning eyes showed from beneath the brim of The Shadow’s slouch hat.

Vic Marquette stopped and placed his bag upon the floor. He turned toward the end of the room, but did not see The Shadow. A look of deep thought was upon Marquette’s face.

In his reverie, the secret-service man walked directly toward the weird being in black without realizing that this amazing presence had appeared. Vic’s objective was the telephone. He picked it up and called a number.

AN amazing tableau!

Vic Marquette; stolidly staring at the side wall of the room while he held the telephone in his hands; The Shadow less than two feet away, gazing directly at the secret-service operative’s swarthy countenance!

From this close range, The Shadow could tell that Vic had gained a sudden inspiration.

“Hello!” Vic’s voice, usually calm, was eager now. “Is this Detective Cady?… Fine. I want to see you… No, I can’t give you my name until I meet you… Room 418, New Avalon Hotel… You can come down? This will be worth your while… You’ll understand quick enough when I talk to you in person…”

There was a satisfied gleam in Marquette’s eyes as the operative hung up the receiver.

While Vic was acting thus, The Shadow, too, was in motion. With brilliant eyes still focused upon Vic Marquette’s profile, The Shadow moved silently and slowly back toward the door from which he had come. The tall figure became a mass of blackness. It vanished with magical effect.

When Vic Marquette chanced to glance in the direction of the door, he saw nothing but the woodwork. This time, the door was tightly shut.

Marquette paced up and down the room for some fifteen minutes. At last, he heard a rap from the outer door. He hurried forward to admit a tall, cadaverous-faced man who stared suspiciously as he entered.

“You wanted to see me?” the man asked.

“Detective Donald Cady?” inquired Marquette.

“The same,” returned the entrant. “Who are you?”

VIC closed the outer door. At the same moment, the obscure door near the inner end of the room again moved until it was slightly ajar. The Shadow was once more listening in to what happened here.

Vic Marquette was drawing back his coat lapel. Cady saw the glitter of the secret-service badge, and nodded his understanding.

“My name’s Marquette,” announced Vic. “I’m here on an important job — and I need your help.”

“Shoot,” said Cady, quietly picking out a chair.

“I’m after a couple of counterfeiters,” declared Marquette. “Two men — Cyrus Barbier and Tony Cumo. One’s an old, stoop-shouldered bird; the other’s an Italian. They ought to be easy to spot; but I haven’t found them.”

Vic drew a sheet from his pocket, and read off detailed descriptions of the men. Cady listened. The Shadow listened also. He had heard of these names through Harry Vincent’s report, but he had not been informed of the men’s activities, nor of their actual appearance.

“You think they are in New Avalon?” questioned Cady.

“Maybe,” vouchsafed Vic.

“Why didn’t you let us know about them?” queried Cady.

“I’ll tell you why,” said Vic. “These fellows are clever. They slipped out ahead of me in New York. They’re shrewd enough to get wise when a police hunt starts. That’s why I called you — and not headquarters.”

“Why me?”

“I study things when I’m in a town, Cady. I learned that you’re a pretty keen detective. One that goes about his own business. I was ready to give up tonight; then I decided to call you before I quit.

“I’ve been doing a lot of searching in this town — going to the types of places where I figured these birds would hang out. But I’ve had no luck. It struck me that you might steer me to some spot where I could locate them.”

“What did these men do in New York — I mean, what was their blind while they were counterfeiting?”

“Barbier ran a brass shop. Tony Cumo hung around the place.”

“Humph. Maybe they’ve landed a job up at the silverware plant.”

“I thought of that,” said Vic. “I was up there, and I watched the workers going in and out. No sign of either man that I wanted. They’ve got to live somewhere, Cady.”

“Did you took into that little settlement up by the Kendall plant?”

“No,” said Vic in surprise, “I saw some houses near the place, but I didn’t think anything about them.”

“Quite a number of the employees live there,” informed Cady. “You can only see a few of the houses from the plant. The rest are off in back of the hill.”

“Say — that’s an idea! I’m glad I called you, Cady. I’ll stay over and go up there tomorrow.”

Cady shook his head thoughtfully.

“You’d be up against it, Marquette,” he said. “The place is well policed by Kendall’s men. If you told them who you were, it would be all right; but since you appear to be keeping your identity a secret—”

“I see,” interposed Vic. “They’d be apt to question me.”

“That’s it,” declared Cady. “But my case is different. I could go up there tomorrow and do some real work. The special police know me. I drop around there right along. Suppose I see if there’s any one up there answering the description you have given? If there is, I’ll notify you.”

“I’d appreciate it,” said Vic warmly. “But remember this; you’re acting unofficially. I don’t want anything to be known until we can lay the finger on these men — if they are still in New Avalon. When we have located them, we’ll go after them; and I can give you my word that Donald Cady will get the proper credit for landing a pair of wanted counterfeiters.”

“You’ll need the help of our local force?”

“Yes — when I’m ready. This business of tracking down counterfeiters is a tough one. When those fellows blew from New York, they had baggage with them. Chances are that they’ve carried along their dies. They were knocking out nickels in New York, and I have samples of the phony coins.”

“I’ll take a look up toward the settlement tomorrow morning,” assured Cady, now convinced that Marquette was offering him a remarkable opportunity to gain credit for detective work. “Where will you be?”

“In and out of this hotel,” responded Vic. “Remember now — not a word to any one until you talk to me; that is, if you think you’ve located the men I want.”

Cady was nodding as he turned to leave the room. Vic Marquette accompanied the local sleuth into the hallway; their voices dwindled, and it became apparent that Vic had gone down in the elevator to the lobby.

The door opened and The Shadow entered. A soft whisper came from lips and were concealed by the upturned collar of the crimson-lined cloak. Vic Marquette had sought aid; he had gained the assistance of Detective Donald Cady; he had revealed the game that he was playing.

The Shadow knew now the game in which others were engaged. With his knowledge of Silk Elverton’s connection with Foulkrod Kendall, the man of mystery was directly on the trail of crime.

Detective Cady would act tomorrow.

The Shadow, too, would act!