The Silver Scourge

CHAPTER IX AT NEW AVALON

A YOUNG man alighted from a limited train that had stopped in the New Avalon station. He tendered two valises and a briefcase to a waiting red-cap, and followed the porter through the spacious terminal.

The man who had arrived in New Avalon walked with a brisk stride, and was keenly observant as he passed through the station. When he reached the cab stand, he glanced along the lighted streets to gain a first perspective view of the city.

“New Avalon Hotel,” he ordered, as he stepped into the cab and lounged back on the seat.

Riding through the main streets of New Avalon, the stranger continued to eye the sights. He noted the name of Kendall above a large store; the same name appeared in lights over a theater marquee.

The New Avalon Hotel was a modern structure with a good-sized lobby. The young man entered and approached the desk. He wrote the name of Harry Vincent upon the register. The clerk called the bell boy to take the guest to a room.

Upstairs in the hotel, Harry Vincent stared from the window. His eyes again rested upon the electric sign which bore the title, “Kendall Theater.”

The name Kendall was of real importance to Harry Vincent. This young man had come to New Avalon for the definite purpose of finding all that he could learn about Foulkrod Kendall. As an agent of The Shadow, Harry Vincent possessed marked ability in such investigation work.

Already, Harry Vincent had encountered surprises. He had expected to find New Avalon a thriving city. The place had exceeded his impressions; it bore the semblance of a metropolis. Harry had known that he would find the name of Kendall in prominence; he was amazed at its domination of the entire city.

The Kendall Silverware Corporation, recognized as the chief industry in New Avalon, had evidently gained such importance that all other enterprises were dependent upon it. At one time, Harry decided, the silverware manufactory must have been all that the town possessed.

Off above some lower buildings, Harry caught the flash of another electric sign which blazoned forth the name:

Harry Vincent smiled. Kendall and New Avalon were practically synonymous. It was almost strange that the city itself did not bear the name of its most prominent resident. Locating Foulkrod Kendall would not be difficult here; the one problem was to gain close contact with the millionaire.

DESCENDING to the lobby, Harry approached the desk. The clerk on duty appeared to be intelligent. In a town like this, the simplest way to gain a line on local affairs was to talk with a man in his position.

“I like your city,” remarked Harry. “It’s my first visit here; I’m rather surprised to find it such a flourishing place.”

“New Avalon is moving right along,” was the reply.

“Kendall,” mused Harry. “I’ve seen the name ever since I’ve been in town. Is that the silverware manufacturer?”

“The same,” stated the clerk in a dry voice.

“It’s a wonder the town isn’t named Kendall,” laughed Harry.

“Believe me or not,” returned the clerk soberly, “they wanted to change the name of New Avalon to Kendall. That was one idea that didn’t get by.”

“Kendall must be quite a factor in the town.”

“He was. He still is, for that matter. One man can’t have everything, you know, even though he wants it. Kendall has his finger in plenty of enterprises around here.”

“Does he own the theater? The one I saw down the street?”

“He controls it — like a lot of other affairs. But there are other stockholders in the Kendall Theater Corporation. It’s a chain — six or seven theaters in New Avalon, and others in the larger towns near here. Guess they’ve got nearly twenty in all.”

“And Kendall runs the works?”

“He’s the general controller, or grand mucky-muck, or whatever you want to call it. The fellow in actual charge is Clayton Landow, son of Hiram Landow, the new governor. He’s engaged to Kendall’s niece. So it will all be in the family eventually.”

Harry Vincent smiled as he strolled away from the desk. Evidently Foulkrod Kendall was too domineering to be popular in New Avalon. Harry had seen cases like this before; but never on such a large scale. Foulkrod Kendall had evidently used his power to gain some influence in every commercial enterprise of any consequence that existed in New Avalon.

The Hotel Kendall, rival to the New Avalon Hotel, was probably of Kendall’s making; that might account for the sourness of the clerk to whom Harry had spoken. Whatever the case might be, it was to Harry’s liking. As he strolled along the street outside the hotel, the young man realized that his task of reaching Foulkrod Kendall had been simplified by what he had learned.

The theater interested Harry Vincent. He stood across the street, and studied the lighted lobby. Then, going back to the hotel, he reentered the lobby with the intention of going to his room.

As he glanced toward the clerk’s desk, Harry noted that the man was talking to a stocky stranger. Something familiar about the heavy-set man caused Harry to pause close by. He could hear the reply that the clerk was making to a question.

“Sorry, sir, but Mr. Barbier left no address,” said the clerk. “He checked out of here this morning.”

“What about Cumo?” quizzed the stocky man.

“A gentleman named Anthony Cummings was here with Mr. Barbier,” declared the clerk. “Perhaps he is the person whom you mean. He left also. No address given.”

The stocky man turned away from the desk. Harry Vincent caught a glimpse of a swarthy face. As he saw that countenance, Harry turned away before the other man observed him.

Vic Marquette!

WELL did Harry know the secret-service operative! Their paths had crossed before, when Harry, in the service of The Shadow, had encountered Vic in the service of the government.

Vic Marquette would have recognized Harry Vincent had he seen him. The Shadow’s agent and the secret-service man were friends, but Harry did not care to meet Marquette at the present moment.

There was nothing to indicate that they were here on the same purpose. But Vic, had he observed Harry Vincent, would have suspected so. The Shadow, when he worked, preferred to move alone. Harry Vincent knew that it would be wise to keep out of sight of Vic Marquette.

Returning to his room, Harry considered the conversation that he had overheard. Vic Marquette was looking for two persons: one named Barbier; the other, Cumo. This was a fact that Harry would include in his report to The Shadow.

For the present, however, Harry Vincent had another mission. That was the gaining of contact with Foulkrod Kendall. Seating himself at a writing desk, Harry opened his briefcase and took out a limp leather binder. This was filled with papers held in small packets by large slips.

Each batch was an information sheet accompanied by credentials. With the aid of these, Harry Vincent could appear in any one of several capacities. As a real-estate promoter, a manufacturer’s agent, a specialty salesman — it was purely a matter of choice and convenience.

Harry laid aside the bulkiest packet of all. It was one that dealt with tableware manufacture. Harry had brought it along as a sure bet in case all others failed. He decided that he would not need it now. There was another package of papers that would serve more effectively.

This packet referred to a business enterprise known as the United Theater Chain. It listed the officers of the company, the theaters which they owned, the methods which they employed, and their principal offices. With the packet was an envelope which contained business cards bearing Harry Vincent’s name.

Upon a handy sheet of paper, Harry Vincent wrote the name of Clayton Landow. He clipped this to the packet. He put away all the other stacks of papers, stowing them in a valise. Then, in methodical fashion, Harry set to work studying the data that lay before him. It would take some time to digest all of it.

IT was late in the evening when Harry Vincent had completed his self-appointed task. He put the theatrical papers in the briefcase, and wrote a brief note in blue ink-coded words which related to his night’s work, including the discovery that Vic Marquette was in New Avalon, and what the secret-service man had said.

Harry sealed this message in an envelope. With another pen — one that contained darker ink — he wrote the address of Rutledge Mann, in the Badger Building, New York City. Harry stamped the envelope, and went from his room to post it in the hotel mail chute.

When he returned, Harry Vincent decided to retire. He took a last look from the window, toward the spot where the Kendall Theater sign glimmered. That sign was the lure which would guide him to tomorrow’s quest.

The hand of The Shadow had already appeared in New Avalon. Through Harry Vincent, his agent, the master of deduction was following the clew that he had gained after foiling Duffy Bagland and a horde of New York mobsters.

Singularly, the trail which The Shadow sought had already crossed that of Vic Marquette. Tonight, Harry Vincent had done well. Tomorrow, he would accomplish more. This capable agent was trained in The Shadow’s work.

Should Harry Vincent discover further evidence of matters amiss, there would be one definite result. The Shadow, himself, would visit the city of New Avalon.

That was The Shadow’s way. Engaged in fighting present crimes, he sent his agents abroad to discover the menace of approaching evil.

Harry Vincent was meditative as he turned out the light of the hotel room. His quick plan of action, his discovery of Vic Marquette — both were factors that convinced him of adventure which lay ahead.

Already, Harry could sense impending complications that would be sufficient to bring The Shadow here!