mg.dictatorofcrime-第8部分

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；　though；　you'd　have　preferred　for　me　to　go　to　the　Isle　of　Pines。〃
　　〃Not　at　all；〃　assured　Cranston。　〃If　you　had；　you　wouldn't　be　here　to　count　the　mosquito　boats　for　me。　How　many　were　there？　Ah；　yes；　eleven。〃
　　Before　Margo　could　think　of　a　retort；　the　announcer's　voice　came　on　again；　stating　that　the　last　of　the　mosquito　fleet　had　reported　in　at　the　Miami　Yacht　Basin；　with　no　report　of　a　lurking　boat　along　the　coast。　This　was　proof　conclusive　that　Murk　Wessel　must　have　continued　his　flight　by　land；　which；　in　turn；　backed　the　report　that　the　suspected　murderer　had　reached　New　York。
　　〃Yet　the　Isle　of　Pines　is　very　pleasant；〃　Cranston　remarked。　〃You　would　have　enjoyed　it；　Margo。　I'd　have　done　better　to　count　those　mosquito　boats　myself。　I　don't　think　I　would　have　missed　one。　There　were　twelve；　Margo；　not　just　eleven。〃
　　
　　
　　THIS　time；　Margo　was　angry　at　herself。　How　she'd　missed　sight　of　one　ship；　was　a　riddle。　They'd　all　gone　through　the　drawbridge；　which　had　to　rise　when　each　approached。
　　She　expected　Cranston　to　chide　her　further；　but　he　didn't。　His　understanding　of　Margo's　real　emotions　was　quite　as　keen　as　his　recognition　of　her　pretending　moods。　His　casual　way　of　changing　the　subject　softened　Margo's　hurt。
　　〃About　Nayre…〃　Cranston　reflected。　〃Did　he　say　why　he　was　going　back　to　Centralba？〃
　　Margo　shook　her　head。
　　〃They're　still　looking　for　him；〃　Cranston　continued；　〃although　they're　trying　to　find　Murk　first。　From　the　standpoint　of　circumstantial　evidence；　it　looks　quite　bad　for　Nayre；　having　Brady　all　set　to　fly　him　away　from　Miami。〃
　　〃But　Brady　hadn't　expected　Nayre　so　soon…〃
　　〃A　good　point；　Margo；　especially　because　Brady　thought　you　were　a　friend　of　Nayre's。　Let's　take　Nayre　at　his　word。　He　wanted　to　get　away　from　the　Durez　crowd　before　they　dragged　him　into　business　he　didn't　like。　They　were　powerful；　and　he　knew　it　might　be　troublesome；　giving　them　the　slip。　So　he　had　his　friend　Brady　ready。〃
　　Margo　nodded　earnestly。　She　liked　the　theory。　However；　the　most　important　point　remained　unexplained。
　　〃Why　should　Nayre　go　back　to　Centralba？〃　queried　Margo。　〃Any　danger　from　Durez　would　certainly　be　less　than　the　menace　of　Castenago。〃
　　This　time；　Cranston　really　smiled。
　　〃You　said　that　Brady　wasn't　surprised　to　see　you；〃　he　told　Margo。
　　〃Apparently；　he　took　it　for　granted　that　Nayre　would　have　a　girl　helping　him　to　escape。　Even　a　girl　in　a　bathing　costume　didn't　faze　Brady。　Yet　Nayre　would　have　to　be　a　very　persuasive　chap；　to　convince　a　young　lady　to　aid　his　flight　at　such　short　notice。〃
　　〃Why；　yes。　But…〃
　　〃But　Nayre　wasn't　at　all　intrigued　by　the　situation。　You　thought　he　was　woman　proof。　No　wonder！　If　he'd　admired　you；　as　you　deserved；　he　could　have　put　away　his　gun　and　relied　on　his　own　personality；　and　the　moonlight；　to　convince　you　that　you　ought　to　help　him。　Therefore；　paring　the　Nayre　that　Brady　knew　with　the　Nayre　you　met；　we　must　assume…〃
　　〃That　Nayre　is　in　love！〃　exclaimed　Margo；　as　Cranston　purposely　paused。
　　〃Gone　pletely　ga…ga　over　some　girl　in　Centralba！　That　explains　why　he's　gone　back　there！〃
　　There　was　a　nod　from　Cranston。
　　〃Precisely；〃　he　said。　〃Having　settled　the　problem　of　Colin　Nayre；　I　can　now　consider　the　case　of　Murk　Wessel。　Having　met　him　three　times；　I　might　very　well　help　the　hunt　for　him。　Sorry；　Margo。　It　looks　like　New　York　for　me。〃
　　Margo　couldn't　withhold　her　disappointment。
　　〃You　talked　of　an　air　cruise　down　to　Rio；　Lamont。　That's　why　I　was　here　in　Miami；　to　begin　with。〃
　　〃I　know。　The　cruise　starts　tomorrow。　You'd　better　take　it；　Margo。　You'll
　　like　the　crowd；　and　the　pilot；　too。　His　name　is　Kent　Allard。　Quite　a　celebrated　flier；　I　forget　what　it　was　that　made　him　famous；　but　he　is。　You'll　hear　from　him。〃
　　
　　
　　CRANSTON　was　gone；　and　Margo；　standing　in　the　gathering　dusk；　felt　very　much　alone。　She　wished　she'd　said　she　wouldn't　take　the　cruise；　but　it　was　too　late；　now；　to　change　her　mind。　By　now；　Lamont　was　speeding　to　the　airport　in　a　cab；　and　Margo　knew　his　ship　was　ready　for　an　immediate　take…off。
　　All　she　could　do　was　stand　and　watch　from　the　rail　of　the　high　roof。
　　Darkness　had　settled；　a　half　hour　later；　when　she　saw　two　lights　rise　to　the　northwest　and　blink　a　signal　from　above　the　airport。　Then　those　lights　were　dwindling　to　the　north。
　　Their　flash　had　been　Lamont's　parting　signal。　He　knew　that　Margo　would　be　watching　for　it。
　　It　hurt；　parting　with　a　friend　like　Cranston。　The　darkened　waters　of　Biscayne　Bay　reflected　the　lights　from　the　Venetian　Way　with　a　dewy　dance；　when　Margo　looked　in　that　direction。　It　couldn't　be　the　waves　that　blurred　the　mirrored　lights；　for　there　were　none。　The　trouble　was　that　Margo's　eyes　were　just　about　as　dry　as　the　bay　itself。
　　From　a　table　secluded　among　the　palms　that　sprinkled　the　hotel　roof；　a　guest　who　had　just　arrived　looked　across　and　saw　Margo　gazing　over　the　rail。
　　His　face　was　different　from　Cranston's；　but　his　lips　phrased　the　same　low　whispered　laugh；　a　tone　that　belonged　to　The　Shadow。
　　Those　blinking　lights　had　marked　the　departure　of　Cranston's　plane；　under　the　control　of　a　hired　pilot。　The　Shadow；　himself；　had　returned；　for　his　future　course　lay　southward；　not　to　the　north。　Margo　Lane　wasn't　going　to　find　herself　without　a　friend　when　she　took　the　air　cruise；　tomorrow。
　　As　happened　often；　The　Shadow's　theory　regarding　the　whereabouts　of　a　missing　criminal　was　as　at　direct　variance　with　that　held　by　the　law。　He　still　intended　to　look　for　Murk　Wessel；　but　in　the　last　place　where　anyone　would　expect　to　find　the　missing　murderer！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　VIII　
　　　FORCED　LANDING　
　　MARGO　LANE　liked　Kent　Allard；　as　did　the　other　members　of　the　cruise　party。　It　didn't　take　her　long　to　find　out　why　the　pilot　of　their　deluxe　plane　was　celebrated。
　　Several　years　ago；　Allard　had　started　on　a　nonstop　flight　to　South　America；　only　to　disappear　from　civilized　ken。　He　had　reappeared　after　a　few　year's　absence；　in　pany　with　some　Guatemalan　Indians　of　the　almost　forgotten　Xinca　tribe。
　　Having　landed　in　their　midst；　Allard　had　bee　the　ruler　of　the　Indians；　and　the　departure　of　their　white　chief　had　been　a　cause　of　sorrow　to　the　entire　tribe。
　　It　didn't　occur　to　Margo　that　Allard　could　have　been　in　America；　particularly　New　York　City；　during　the　years　when　he　had　reputedly　been　among　the　Xincas；　yet　such　was　the　actual　case。　The　reason；　too；　was　as　definite　as　the　fact　itself。
　　Kent　Allard　was　The　Shadow。
　　To　hide　pletely　his　identity　from　crimeland；　he　had　pretended　to　disappear；　before　beginning　open　war　upon　the　rulers　of　the　underworld。　Of　course；　as　The　Shadow；　he　had　found　it　necessary　to　appear　in　public；　so　he　had　adopted　the　guise　of　Lamont　Cranston。
　　Day　in；　day　out；　The　Shadow　posed　as　Cranston；　and　had　almost　e　to　regard　the　name　and　personality　as　part　of　himself。　As　Cranston；　he　could　meet　his　various　secret　agents；　among　them　Margo　Lane；　without　necessarily　hiding　the　fact　that　he　was　also　The　Shadow。
　　Should　they　be　forced；　under　unexpected　pressure；　to　declare　that　Cranston　was　The　Shadow；　he　could　simply　drop　that　personality　forever　and　keep　his　enemies　hunting　him　until　doomsday。　Doomsday；　in　their　case；　would　be　translated　by　what　would　probably　happen　to　them　if　The　Shadow　caught　up　with　them　while　they　were　on　the　hunt　for　Cranston；　the　man　they　could　never　find。
　　There　were　times；　rare　indeed；　when　The　Shadow　did　drop　the　guise　of　Cranston　and　bee　himself：　Kent　Allard。
　　This　was　one　of　those　times。
　　The　Shadow　wanted　to　go　to　Centralba。　He　couldn't　very　well　go　as　Cranston。　The　gatomontes；　or　secret　police　who　served　as　Castenago's　private　organization；　were　very　suspicious　of　all　wealthy　Americans　who　visited　Centralba。
　　About　all　that　such　visitors　could　do　would　be　to　buy　up　concessions　which　had　been　sold　to　half　a　dozen　others。　Through　various　technicalities；　all　such　concessions；　together　with　the　purchase　money；　became　the　eventual　property　of　Luis　Castenago。
　　Meanwhile；　the　gatomontes　kept　〃protecting〃　the　visiting　Americans；　to　such　a　degree　that　they　were　glad　to　get　out　of　Centralba；　regardless　of　financial　loss。
　　In　his　way；　Luis　Castenago　made　such　big…time　confidence　men　as　Murk　Wessel　look　like　very　small　children　who　hadn't　been　broken　of　the　habit　of　swiping　pennies　off　stacks　of　newspapers。　So；　to　meet　Castenago　properly；　The　Shadow　was　choosing　a　unique　mode　of　entry　into　Centralba。
　　He　was　going　there　as　Kent　Allard；　and　because　Margo　Lane　would　probably　escape　suspicion；　he　was　taking　her　along　as　an　unwitting　helper。
　　
　　
　　LIKE　a　great　bowl　of　bluish　chalcedony；　the　Caribbean　Sea　lay　beneath　the　speeding　wings　of　Allard's　cruise　plane。　Other　members　of　the　party；　half　a　dozen　in　all；　were　chatting　about　the　fog…tinged　weather；　while　Margo　Lane　was　watching　the　pilot。
　　In　one　of　those　vague　ways；　which　couldn't　be　explained；　Kent　Allard　reminded　Margo　of　Lamont　Cranston。　When　she　tried　to　reason　out　the　resemblance；　Margo　decided；　smilingly；　that　it　was　because　the　two　were　so　different。
　　Allard's　face　was　thinner　than　Cranston's；　in　a　sense；　it　was　almost　gaunt。　His　eyes　were　set；　rather　than　steady。　His　motions；　though　deliberate；　were　done　with　a　precision；　whereas　Cranston's　were　leisurely　to　the　point　of　indolence。
　　It　seemed　that　Allard　must　have　acquired　his　manner　from　association　with　the　Xinca　Indians；　just　as　Cranston　had　learned　a　placid　philosophy　from　the　lamas　of　Tibet。　Those　things　became　ingrown　with　a　man　who　experienced　them。
　　Margo　didn't　begin　to　realize　that　one　background　could　be　dropped　at　will；　and　the　other　taken　up。　Few　people　could　have　done　it；　however；　though　The　Shadow　did。
　　He'd　found；　though；　that　people　would　pare　Allard　with　Cranston；　as　Margo　was　doing　at　present。　It　didn't　matter；　because　the　longer　the　parison　continued；　the　more　they　would　argue　themselves　into　deciding　that　the　two　were　different。
　　The　thing　that　served　The　Shadow　best　was　his　ability　to　render　each　character　unique。　No　two　things　can　be　unique　and　at　the　same　time　alike。　Thus；　Allard　and　Cranston；　twinned　at　first　impression；　veered　from　each　other；　never　to　be　reunited　in　any　perso