mg.cityofcrime-第27部分

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　returned　Ruthley。　〃Any　honest　man　is　in　danger；　living　here　in　Westford。　I　requested　guards；　Borman　gave　them　to　me。〃
　〃He　offered　to　guard　Judge　Benbrook's　house；〃　put　in　Marclot；　taking　Ruthley's　cue。　〃But　the　judge　wanted　none。〃
　〃Director　Borman　should　have　insisted　upon　it；〃　asserted　Wilderton。　〃In　spite　of　Judge　Benbrook's　protest。〃
　〃Do　not　blame　the　police　for　laxity；〃　retorted　Marclot。　〃If　criminals　were　convicted　in　this　town；　we　would　have　no　need　for　the　Flying　Squadron！〃
　Wilderton　winced　at　the　reference　to　the　inefficiency　of　the　district　attorney's　office。　Ruthley　clapped　the　young　prosecutor　on　the　back；　and　smoothed　his　feelings　with　honeyed　mendation。
　〃You　have　done　well；　Louis；〃　asserted　Ruthley。　〃Which　reminds　me。　We　must　soon　start　to　the　meeting。　If　Judge　Benbrook　fails　to　arrive；　we　must　do　our　utmost　to　preserve　the　fine　spirit　that　he　aroused。　Unfortunately；　his　absence　will　bring　adverse　ment。　He　will　no　longer　be　acceptable　as　a　candidate　for　district　attorney's　office。〃
　〃Too　bad；〃　remarked　Marclot。　〃It　cannot　be　helped；　though。　Many　persons　doubted　that　Judge　Benbrook　could　stand　the　strain　of　reappearance　in　public　life。〃
　〃We　still　have　you；　Louis；〃　resumed　Ruthley；　addressing　the　district　attorney。　〃You　are　the　right　man。　Your　support　of　Judge　Benbrook　won　you　many　friends。　We　shall　return　to　our　original　plan；　your　reelection。〃
　Wilderton　tried　to　look　pleased；　but　he　was　too　worried　about　the　references　to　Judge　Benbrook's　absence。　At　last　he　decided　that　Ruthley　was　right。　It　would　be　impossible　to　depend　upon　the　judge。　Seeing　Wilderton's　change　of　expression；　Ruthley　strolled　again　to　the　window。
　〃Kirk　is　back！〃　he　exclaimed。　〃I　see　his　car　outside。　He　must　have　returned　while　we　were　talking。　I　suppose　the　Flying　Squadron　is　still　out。　I　see　a　few　of　the　precinct　police　on　duty。〃
　The　appearance　of　bluecoats　disturbed　neither　Ruthley　nor　Marclot。　The　apartment　house　was　not　in　Lieutenant　Maclare's　precinct。　As　Ruthley　stepped　back　from　the　window；　the　doorbell　rang。　Ruthley　heard　Haija　in　the　hall。　The　boss　stood　waiting　for　Borman　to　appear。
　Suddenly；　Ruthley　glowered；　his　glinting　eyes　denoted　perplexity。　Mayor　Marclot　looked　in　the　same　direction　and　gasped。　Louis　Wilderton　came　to　his　feet　with　a　glad　gasp。
　Kirk　Borman　had　entered；　sober…faced　and　glum。　With　the　police　director　was　a　man　whom　none　expected。　Borman's　panion　was　Judge　Martin　Benbrook。
　
　
　ERECT　and　firm　of　step。　Judge　Benbrook　strode　to　the　center　of　the　room。
　While　Ruthley　and　Marclot　looked　to　Borman　for　an　explanation；　the　judge　drew　a　large　envelope　from　his　pocket。　From　it；　he　drew　objects　that　made　Stephen　Ruthley　gape。
　〃These　are　for　you；　Louis；〃　stated　the　judge；　to　Wilderton。　〃You　will　recognize　this；　perhaps。　It　is　a　list　of　names　that　you　gave　to　Stephen　Ruthley。　Turn　it　over；　Louis。〃
　Wilderton　took　the　crumpled　sheet　of　paper；　turned　it　over　and　saw　Woodstock's　name　and　telephone　number。　Judge　Benbrook　mented　dryly：
　〃Ask　Ruthley　if　he　recognizes　his　own　handwriting。〃
　A　look　of　understanding　dawned　on　Wilderton's　owlish　face。　He　blinked　through　his　spectacles。
　〃What　does　this　mean？〃　he　exclaimed。　〃You　called　Woodstock；　after　I　was　here；　Mr。　Ruthley？〃
　Ruthley's　glower　had　faded。　The　big…shot　was　smoother　than　ever。
　〃I　do　not　recall　that　I　ever　called　Adam　Woodstock；〃　he　began。　〃In　fact；　I　scarcely　knew　the　man　by　sight。〃
　〃Yet　you　visited　him　that　same　night；〃　remarked　Judge　Benbrook；　coldly；　〃and　left　your　signature　upon　the　blotter　on　his　desk。　Along　with　Woodstock's　own　signature。〃
　From　the　envelope；　the　judge　took　the　telltale　blotter。　He　gave　it　to　Wilderton；　who　recognized　both　signatures　despite　their　reversed　form。　Smiling；　Ruthley　purred　his　protest。
　〃Why　should　I　have　signed　my　name　in　Woodstock's　presence？〃　he　questioned。
　〃On　what　sort　of　document　would　I　have　placed　it？〃
　〃At　the　bottom　of　Woodstock's　statement；〃　accused　Judge　Benbrook；　in　tone　of　firm　denunciation。　〃The　sheet　from　which　you　clipped　your　signature　later；　after　you　had　bluffed　Woodstock　into　signing　the　statement　himself。　Take　this　paper；　Wilderton！〃　The　judge　unfolded　a　sheet　and　gave　it　to　the　district　attorney。　〃It　is　Wilderton's　own　stationery；　but　this　sheet　is　of　proper　length。　pare　it　with　the　clipped　statement　that　you　filed　in　your　office　files　and…〃
　Stephen　Ruthley　interrupted　with　a　harsh　challenge。　He　had　no　more　need　for　smooth　procedure。　Judge　Benbrook　was　an　enemy　who　had　to　be　eliminated；　so　was　Louis　Wilderton；　now　that　the　prosecutor's　eyes　had　been　opened。　Ruthley　shot　his　hand　to　his　hip；　he　carried　a　gun　there　and　he　intended　murder；　expecting　the　support　of　Elvin　Marclot　and　Kirk　Borman。
　The　mayor　was　too　dumfounded　to　make　a　move；　but　Borman　shot　his　hand　to　his　own　pocket；　whipped　out　a　revolver　and　covered　Ruthley　before　the　boss　could　pull　his　gun。
　
　
　〃THE　game　is　up；　Steve；〃　croaked　Borman；　sourly。　〃You're　wanted　for　the　murder　of　Adam　Woodstock。　Marclot　and　I　will　have　to　tell　all　we　know。　Don't　blame　me　for　it。　I'm　not　acting　on　my　own。〃
　Kirk　Borman's　words　were　suddenly　explained。　A　burly　man　stepped　into　view　from　the　hallway；　he　was　in　blue　uniform；　he　carried　a　police　revolver。　The　man　was　James　Maclare；　the　grizzled　police　lieutenant　wore　a　triumphant　expression　upon　his　weather…beaten　face。　He　spoke　to　Borman；　the　police　director　lowered　his　gun　and　let　Maclare　take　charge。
　Behind　Maclare　came　three　policemen　from　his　own　precinct。　He　had　brought　them　with　him；　and　had　left　a　squad　outside。　In　that　instant；　Stephen　Ruthley　guessed　the　answer。　The　hand　of　The　Shadow　was　behind　this　showdown。　Ruthley　needed　no　news　of　the　battles　that　had　finished　thugs　and　mowed　down　the　Flying　Squadron。　He　was　too　concerned　with　his　own　Waterloo。
　〃The　graft　money　is　in　the　filing　cabinet；　Maclare；〃　informed　Borman　through　gritted　teeth。　〃Millions　of　it！　Ruthley　bundled　it　all；　in　case　we　had　to　make　a　break　from　town。　With　the　papers；　too…〃
　〃You　double…crosser！〃　snarled　Ruthley；　〃saving　your　own　hide　by　squealing　on　the　rest　of　us！　I　suppose　The　Shadow　shoved　you　into　this？〃
　Borman　caught　a　glint　in　Ruthley's　eye；　one　that　he　understood。　The　police　director's　hard　lips　formed　a　smile；　he　gave　a　nod　to　show　that　he　was　ready。
　Ruthley　bawled　a　sudden　order：
　〃All　right；　Lance！〃
　The　picture　on　the　wall　ripped　inward。　Men　from　beyond　cracked　the　fastening　loose　as　they　hit　the　frame　with　full　force。　Headlong　into　the　room　came　Lance　Gillick　and　Beezer　Dorsch。　With　them；　they　brought　full　proof　of　Stephen　Ruthley's　guilt。
　Though　other　evidence　stood　as　circumstantial；　the　presence　of　Beezer　Dorsch；　known　murderer；　in　Ruthley's　own　apartment　was　a　fact　that　would　stand　in　any　court。　It　showed　Ruthley's　plicity　in　every　crime　that　had　happened　in　Westford。　It　marked　him　as　the　big…shot　of　the　crime　ring；　beyond　all　denial。
　
　
　IN　that　startling　moment；　however；　no　one　thought　of　that　important　detail。　Lance　and　Beezer　were　straightening；　leveling　revolvers　that　they　knew　how　to　use。　Maclare　and　the　three　officers　were　wheeling　toward　them；　intent　on　dealing　with　these　enemies；　they　forgot　Stephen　Ruthley。
　The　big…shot　whipped　out　his　revolver；　at　the　same　moment；　Kirk　Borman　rallied　with　him。　Honesty　did　not　appeal　to　the　police　director。　Ruthley　had　guessed　that　fact；　was　counting　upon　Borman　to　side　with　him；　using　the　gun　that　Maclare　had　allowed　Borman　to　bring　along　on　promise　that　he　would　side　with　the　law。
　The　Shadow　had　arranged　all　this；　through　Judge　Benbrook；　he　had　approved　of　Borman's　cooperation。　The　judge；　dropping　helplessly　toward　the　wall；　gained　sudden　fear　that　The　Shadow's　strategy　had　failed。　Lance　and　Beezer；　breaking　past　the　picture　of　Aramis；　had　equaled　the　odds　of　crime　against　the　law。
　Then　came　the　finish。　Police　guns　ripped。　Lance　and　Beezer　never　had　a　chance　against　them。　Maclare　and　his　bluecoats　beat　the　two　crooks　to　the　shot；　sprawled　them　with　a　deluge　of　bullets　before　they　could　recover　from　their　hasty　entry。
　Judge　Benbrook　cried　a　warning。　Ruthley　and　Borman　were　ing　to　a　counterthrust。　The　advantage　that　the　police　had　gained　was　lost。　Borman　was　aiming　for　Maclare；　the　director　had　gained　the　bulge　on　the　sturdy　police　officer。
　Death　for　Maclare…and　the　others；　for　Ruthley　was　a　close　second　with　his　gun。　Such　was　the　intent　of　crooks；　but　their　purpose　never　carried。　Before　a　single　gun　could　bark　within　the　room；　an　automatic　spoke　from　the　blackened　doorway　where　the　full…length　portrait　had　been。
　There　stood　The　Shadow。　He　had　entered　by　the　passage；　to　watch　Lance　and　Beezer。　He　had　let　them　crash　through；　but　he　was　close　behind　them。　He　had　spared　the　two；　so　that　the　law　could　have　them。　His　battle　was　with　another　pair。　First；　the　double　traitor；　Kirk　Borman。
　The　Shadow's　first　shot　was　aimed　for　Borman；　a　spurt　of　flame　delivered　a　bullet　that　found　the　crook's　heart。　Borman　sagged　to　the　floor；　his　gun　unfired。
　Stephen　Ruthley　performed　the　move　that　The　Shadow　expected。　He　forgot　Maclare；　swung　to　deal　with　his　arch…foe；　The　Shadow。
　Two　guns　spoke　at　once。　The　Shadow；　as　he　fired；　wheeled　away；　beyond　the　edge　of　the　doorway。　He　was　on　the　move　as　he　snapped　the　trigger。　Ruthley's　quick　bullet　shot　inches　wide。　The　master　of　crime　never　knew　that　his　shot　had　missed。
　For　Ruthley　had　made　no　feint。　Standing　his　ground；　hoping　to　beat　The　Shadow's　shot；　he　received　what　he　had　sought　to　deal。　A　withering　bullet　pierced　the　master　crook's　chest。　Forward；　with　a　long　sprawl；　Stephen　Ruthley　flattened　to　the　floor。
　
　
　THE　handcuffs　were　on　Mayor　Elvin　Marclot。　His　pompous　pose　gone；　the　last　ace　of　the　crime　ring　shivered　as　he　eyed　the　bodies　on　the　floor。
　Lance　Gillick；　his　evening　clothes　smeared　with　blood；　lay　sagged　across　the　rough…clad　form　of　Beezer　Dorsch。　Kirk　Borman's　face　was　rigid　in　death；　scowling　its　last　expression　of　treachery。　Amid　them　lay　Stephen　Ruthley；　his　profile　glaring　along　the　tufted　surface　of　an　oriental　rug。
　Weakling　of　the　lot；　Elvin　Marclot　had　survived；　to　do　the　task　that　The　Shadow　had　offered　Kirk　Borman：　to　gain　some　leniency　through　a　plete　confession　of　all　the　crookedness　in　which　h