mg.cyro-第15部分

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ab。　But　they　could　not　equal　the　pace　of　the　maddened　driver　up　ahead。
　　〃Over〃…The　Shadow's　mand　came　from　the　rear　of　the　cab　as　his　automatic　pressed　the　driver's　neck。　〃Pull　over　and　stop。　Stop　hard。〃
　　Cold　steel　of　the　gun's　muzzle　spurred　the　driver　to　prompt　response。　He　had　doubled　the　distance　between　his　cab　and　the　car　behind。　The　halt　that　he　made　was　terrific。　He　jammed　the　brake　and　banked　the　cab　upon　a　mound　of　dirt　at　the　side　of　the　road。
　　〃Out；〃　ordered　The　Shadow。　〃Run　for　cover！〃
　　The　driver　dived　from　the　wheel　and　scrambled　over　the　low　bank　at　the　side　of　the　road；　never　glancing　behind　him。　At　the　same　instant；　The　Shadow　yanked　open　the　door　and　leaped　against　the　bank。
　　His　left　hand　clutched　the　lapels　of　his　full…dress　coat；　pressing　them　so　they　hid　the　whiteness　of　collar；　shirt　and　tie。　As　his　right　shoulder　struck　the　bank；　The　Shadow　spun　about。　Half　rolling；　half　leaping；　he　whirled　back；　away　from　the　stalled　taxi。
　　He　was　a　mass　of　spinning　blackness　in　the　shroud　of　night。　The　Shadow　was　unseen　despite　the　glare　of　approaching　lights。　The　attire　of　Lamont　Cranston　was　serving　him　as　well　as　any　cloak。　In　four　swift　seconds；　he　had　hurled　himself　from　a　spot　of　pressing　danger。
　　
　　FROM　the　pursuing　automobile　came　flashes　of　flame；　acpanied　by　the　roar　of　revolvers。　Bullets　ripped　the　rear　of　the　halted　cab。　Slugs　crashed　windows　as　the　big　machine　approached。　An　open　touring　car；　its　sides　offered　opportunity　for　the　marksman　in　it。
　　Opportunity　lay　elsewhere；　also。　Ending　his　spin　against　the　banked　side　of　the　road；　The　Shadow　stopped　with　automatic　levelled。　He　pressed　the　trigger　as　the　touring　car　arrived。　Not　once；　but　often。
　　The　kicking　automatic　sent　fierce　jabs　of　flame。　With　every　spurt；　The　Shadow's　arm　was　swinging；　following　the　car　that　had　e　to　deluge　the　cab　with　leaden　hail。　Screamed　oaths　shrieked　through　the　air　as　the　driver　applied　the　brakes。　The　touring　car　spun　roundabout；　a　dozen　yards　beyond　the　cab。
　　Rising；　The　Shadow　swung　himself　up　the　embankment；　the　action　took　no　more　than　one　swift　leap。　Dropping　flat；　he　aimed　to　deal　with　desperadoes　should　they　require　more。　The　touring　car　was　straight　across　the　road。　Lights　from　an　approaching　automobile　showed　toppled　figures　dangling　above　its　doors。
　　One　unscathed　marksman　had　seen　The　Shadow's　shots。　Leaning　from　beside　the　driver's　seat；　he　loosed　a　volley　for　the　center　of　the　bank　where　The　Shadow　had　been。　Whirling　bullets　thudded　the　dirt；　the　air　crackling　as　it　closed　behind　them。
　　A　single　shot　answered　from　atop　the　embankment。　A　last　burst　from　the　automatic；　it　proved　a　perfect　stroke。　The　crook　beside　the　driver　jounced　upward；　then　slumped　down　in　the　car。　The　man　at　the　wheel　stepped　on　the　gas。
　　Jolting　from　the　road；　he　drove　hard　through　a　chance　opening　between　trees。　Cutting　wildly　across　a　field；　he　reached　a　dirt　road　that　led　to　another　highway。　The　touring　car　jounced　from　side　to　side；　then　sped　away　in　flight；　its　driver　carrying　a　cargo　of　dead　and　crippled　pals。
　　Cars　had　stopped　all　about。　Lights　were　glaring　on　the　road。　Those　headlamps；　however；　did　not　show　the　right　side　of　the　taxicab。　Nor　did　they　reveal　The　Shadow　as　he　crawled　quickly　along　the　embankment；　then　dropped　beside　the　taxi。
　　Leaping　to　the　wheel；　The　Shadow　started　the　bullet…riddled　cab。　Shots　had　been　for　the　body…not　for　tires；　tank　or　motor。　The　cab　responded。　The　Shadow　drove　it　roaring；　past　cars　that　had　halted　in　their　path　from　the　city。　Racing　the　motor　to　full　speed；　he　whizzed　into　the　city　limits　of　New　Orleans。
　　
　　NOT　long　afterward；　Lamont　Cranston　appeared　in　the　lobby　of　the　hotel　where　he　was　stopping。　His　usually　immaculate　attire　bore　slight　traces　of　grime；　that　fact；　however；　was　not　noticed　by　the　elevator　operator。
　　Reaching　his　room；　The　Shadow　changed　his　clothes。　He　packed　his　bags；　then　summoned　the　porter　and　arranged　for　his　luggage　to　be　expressed　to　New　York；　save　for　a　briefcase　that　he　intended　to　carry　with　him。
　　Going　down　to　the　lobby；　The　Shadow　checked　out；　still　in　the　quiet　manner　of　Lamont　Cranston。　He　left　the　key；　but　he　did　not　go　from　the　hotel。　Instead；　he　returned　to　his　floor。　The　door　was　unlocked　as　he　had　left　it。
　　Opening　the　briefcase；　he　produced　a　make…up　box。　Surveying　his　countenance　in　a　mirror；　he　laughed　softly　and　began　to　remold　his　masklike　features。　His　visage　changed　beneath　the　pressure　of　his　finger　tips。　When　The　Shadow's　work　was　pleted；　his　face　was　fuller　and　heavier　than　that　of　Lamont　Cranston。　It　still　carried　its　hawklike　semblance；　that　was　all。
　　The　Shadow　strolled　from　the　hotel　room。　He　descended　to　the　lobby；　walked　out　and　strode　briskly　toward　bright　lights　that　glittered　along　Canal　Street。
　　His　gait；　his　manner…both　had　undergone　a　change　as　marked　as　that　of　his　countenance。
　　
　　TWO　hours　after　the　episode　on　the　highway；　two　men　arrived　at　the　Club　Caprice　and　asked　for　Rafferty。　One　was　Joe　Cardona；　the　other；　a　tall；　square…shouldered　man。　Although　clad　in　civilian　attire；　this　individual　had　the　military　bearing　of　an　army　officer。　His　face　was　as　square…set　as　his　frame。
　　Rafferty　conducted　the　two　to　Medbrook's　office。　The　gambler　arose　and　extended　his　hand；　first　to　Cardona；　then　to　the　detective's　panion。
　　〃Well；　well；〃　chuckled　Royal。　〃Lieutenant　Wayson。　You're　in　good　pany；　Cardona。　Wayson　is　the　best　police　instructor　in　the　country。　An　expert　on　small　arms…〃
　　〃Cardona　knows　all　that；　Medbrook；〃　interposed　Wayson；　in　a　deep　tone。
　　〃The　chief　gave　him　the　details　when　he　introduced　us　this　afternoon。　You　know　my　duties。　I　confine　myself　entirely　to　revolver　practice。〃
　　〃During　the　day；〃　laughed　Medbrook。　〃And　in　the　evenings；　you　see　the　town。　What　are　you　going　to　do…take　Cardona　around　the　French　Quarter？
　　Looking　for　a　con　man　who　might　be　picking　off　the　saps　who　e　to　town？〃
　　〃That's　just　what　we　intend　to　do；〃　informed　Wayson。　〃But　that　es　later；　Medbrook…beginning　with　tomorrow　night。　The　reason　I'm　out　here　now　is　to　find　out　what　I　can　about　that　trouble　on　the　highway。〃
　　〃You　mean　that　battle　between　a　touring　car　and　a　taxi？　We　heard　about　it　here…that's　all。　Anyway；　it　was　outside　the　city　limits；　wasn't　it？〃
　　Royal　eyed　Wayson　sharply。　The　police　officer　nodded　his　acknowledgment。
　　〃It　doesn't　e　under　our　jurisdiction；〃　he　admitted。　〃But　that　doesn't　prevent　our　finding　out　what　you　know　about　it。　I'm　here　ex…officio。〃
　　〃I　understand；〃　stated　Royal。　〃Well；　lieutenant；　I'd　like　to　help　you　out；　but　frankly；　I　don't　know　a　thing　about　it。　The　whole　affair　was　off　the　premises　of　the　Club　Caprice。　We　only　received　a　second…hand　rumor　that　there'd　been　a　fight。〃
　　〃The　cab　showed　up　in　New　Orleans；〃　remarked　Wayson。　〃It　was　found　in　a　parking　lot。　The　driver　arrived　later；　he　said　he'd　picked　up　a　passenger　from　here。〃
　　〃Any　description　of　the　rider？〃
　　〃None。　The　fellow　poked　a　gun　muzzle　up　against　the　driver's　neck　and　made　him　pull　over。　He　let　the　driver　run　for　it。〃
　　〃And　then　the　fight　began？〃
　　〃That's　it。　He　heard　the　shots；　then　he　saw　his　cab　roll　away。　That's　all　he　told　us。〃
　　The　telephone　bell　rang。　Medbrook　answered　it。　He　spoke　briefly。
　　〃Came　in；　you　say？〃　inquired　Medbrook。　〃I　see。。。　Checked　out　right　afterward。。。　Gone　to　New　York。。。　All　right。。。　No；　never　mind。。。　That's　all　I　need　to　know。。。〃
　　The　gambler　smiled　as　he　hung　up　the　receiver。
　　〃Just　checking　on　a　customer；〃　he　remarked。　〃A　stranger　we　didn't　know　enough　about。　He　looks　all　right；　though。　No；　he　wasn't　one　that　we　thought　might　be　Cyro〃…Medbrook　shook　his　head　as　he　saw　Cardona　about　to　interrupt；　〃we　were　afraid　this　fellow　was　a　professional　gambler；　getting　a　line　on　the　way　we　run　things。〃
　　This　statement　ended；　Royal　Medbrook　tapped　the　desk　in　meditation；　then　looked　at　Wayson。
　　〃There've　been　tough　birds　around　lately；〃　he　declared。　〃But　I　don't　think　they　amount　to　much。　They've　kept　their　noses　out　of　our　business；　and　I　guess　they're　wise　enough　to　stay　outside　the　city　limits；　too。　They　were　probably　after　some　fellow　in　the　cab；　but　I　can't　figure　who　he　was。　A　lot　of　customers　went　out　of　here　tonight。〃
　　Wayson　seemed　satisfied　with　the　explanation。　He　arose；　motioned　to　Cardona　and　the　two　departed。
　　
　　OUTSIDE　the　Club　Caprice　they　entered　a　coupe　that　belonged　to　Wayson　and　headed　cityward。
　　〃We'll　take　a　stroll　down　toward　Frenchtown；〃　decided　Wayson。　〃Just　to　look　around　tonight；　but　tomorrow　we　can　make　some　inquiries　about　this　chap　Cyro。　Seems　to　me　I　heard　some　talk　about　him　when　I　was　in　Jamaica；　a　few　years　ago。〃
　　〃You　were　on　service　there？〃　asked　Cardona。
　　〃Yes；〃　laughed　Wayson。　〃Jamaica；　the　Philippines；　Hawaii；　Algeria；　China　…
　　I've　been　everywhere。　Old　pals　of　mine　are　always　dropping　in　to　see　me。　I　show　them　the　high　spots　of　New　Orleans。　Unofficially。〃
　　〃You　think　Cyro　might　be　in　the　Latin　Quarter？〃
　　〃Possibly。　Let　me　explain　how　things　are　down　there；　Cardona。　To　begin　with；　there　are　a　lot　of　places　that　look　tough　to　people　who　don't　know　them。
　　Up　North；　they　would　be　mobster　hangouts。　But　they　aren't　down　here。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃
　　〃Gangs　find　the　New　Orleans　climate　unhealthy。　Medbrook　brought　out　that　fact　when　we　talked　to　him。　Gangsters　keep　quiet　inside　our　city　limits。　Mobs　follow　rackets…and　a　racketeer　can't　get　to　first　base　in　New　Orleans。　The　town　has　its　riffraff；　but　they　move　openly。　We　watch　the　places　where　they　go；　and　we　keep　an　eye　on　them。
　　〃If　a　local　rowdy　decided　he'd　bee　a　big　shot；　we'd　step　on　him　as　soon　as　he　began　to　organize。　If　a　big　shot　blows　in　from　another　city；　he　finds　himself　up　against　it　when　he　tries　to　organize　a　crew。　If　he　tries　to　import　his　own　gorillas；　we　can　spot　them　like　daisies　in　a　wheat　field。〃
　　〃Then　gangsters　stay　clear　of　New　Orleans？〃
　　〃No。　A　lot　of　them　visit　here。　But　they　mind　their　business。　The　layout　doesn't　look　right。　That's　all。　There　are　too　many　people　belonging　here　who　can't　see　the　idea　of　outsiders　starting　trouble　with　the　cops。〃
　　〃Then　the　French　Quarter　stays　quiet？〃
　　〃Not　all　the　time。　In　a　s