mg.cyro-第18节

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s。　Exchange　Street；　however；　presented　a　more　garish　spectacle。
　　Bars　with　open　fronts；　indoor　cafes；　amid　a　blaze　of　light。　A　scattering　crowd　threaded　back　and　forth　across　the　thoroughfare。　Automobiles　rolled　slowly；　honking　their　horns　continuously。
　　Wayson　was　eyeing　all　about　him。　So　was　Cardona。　All　the　while；　the　lieutenant　acted　as　though　pointing　out　the　sights　to　a　friend。　A　genial；　baldheaded　man　gave　a　greeting。　Wayson　spoke　to　him。　The　fellow　nodded。
　　The　same　thing　happened　further　on。　Whenever　Wayson　paused　to　chat；　he　kept　his　keen　eyes　roving。　He　was　studying　the　medley　of　humanity；　looking　for　men　worth　watching。
　　At　the　end　of　Exchange　Street；　Wayson　turned　about。　He　glanced　at　his　watch；　then　shrugged　his　shoulders。　His　gesture　signified　that　it　was　too　late　to　begin　operations。
　　〃Tomorrow　night…at　eight；〃　decided　the　police　lieutenant。　〃I'll　meet　you　at　your　hotel。　We'll　head　down　this　way；　Cardona。　We　lost　too　much　time　with　that　useless　trip　out　to　the　Club　Caprice。〃
　　
　　A　WELL…DRESSED　man　was　standing　near　the　corner。　He　had　overheard　Wayson's　words。　Cardona　saw　the　stranger；　but　caught　only　a　slight　view　of　his　dignified　face。　He　did　not　recognize　the　passer。
　　But　as　Wayson　and　Cardona　moved　toward　Canal　Street；　a　soft　laugh　came　from　the　lips　of　the　dignified　stranger。　He　waited　until　Wayson　and　Cardona　were　out　of　sight；　then　began　a　brisk　pace　in　the　direction　of　a　hotel；　a　fair…sized　establishment　known　as　the　Bontezan。
　　Under　his　arm；　the　stranger　had　a　briefcase。　He　placed　it　by　the　desk　as　he　signed　the　register。　The　name　that　he　wrote　was　Justin　Oswood。　The　address：
　　New　York。
　　〃I　sent　some　luggage　here；〃　remarked　the　new　guest。　〃It　bears　my　name。〃
　　〃We　received　it；　Mr。　Oswood；〃　informed　the　clerk。　〃It　is　in　the　porter's　room。　We　shall　send　the　luggage　up。〃
　　In　the　room　assigned　to　him；　Justin　Oswood　smiled　warily　as　he　studied　his　reflection　in　a　mirrored　door。　The　visage　that　he　surveyed　was　the　one　that　had　replaced　the　countenance　of　Lamont　Cranston。
　　The　Shadow　was　still　in　New　Orleans　at　a　new　hotel；　wearing　a　guise　that　would　not　be　recognized　by　any　who　had　met　Lamont　Cranston。
　　Tonight；　The　Shadow　had　visited　the　home　of　Danforth　Gaudrin；　a　place　where　crime　was　due　to　fall　when　the　Nautilus　returned。　He　had　acplished　all　he　needed　there　for　the　present。　He　did　not　require　another　visit　as　Cranston。
　　At　the　Club　Caprice；　he　had　learned　the　course　that　Joe　Cardona　was　to　follow。　His　chance　observance　of　Cardona　and　Wayson　had　given　him　corroboration。　Tomorrow　night；　while　waiting　for　the　crime　that　would　reveal　the　schemes　of　the　elusive　Cyro；　The　Shadow　would　have　opportunity　to　trail　Cardona　through　the　French　Quarter。
　　Most　important　of　all　tonight's　episodes　had　been　the　one　in　which　The　Shadow　had　actually　encountered　men　of　crime。　He　had　beaten　off　a　band　of　would…be　slayers。　He　knew　that　they　were　but　a　portion　of　a　ready　mob。　The　rogues　had　attacked　from　outside　the　city；　but　chances　were　that　their　hangout　was　within　the　limits　of　New　Orleans。
　　Luck　had　allowed　the　driver　of　the　touring　car　to　escape　with　the　thinned　and　crippled　crew。　To　take　up　the　trail；　to　seek　the　leader　who　had　ordered　that　band　to　battle　would　be　a　troublesome　task　for　The　Shadow；　particularly　while　better　prospects　offered。
　　As　Justin　Oswood；　The　Shadow　could　afford　to　wait。　Lamont　Cranston　was　gone；　thugs　would　be　lying　low。　When　the　time　came；　The　Shadow　could　deal　with　the　pals　of　those　whom　he　had　beaten　back　tonight。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　XIV　
　　　THE　MESSAGE　
　　TWENTY…FOUR　hours　had　passed。　Midnight　strollers　were　passing　through　the　narrow　streets　of　the　French　Quarter；　where　old…fashioned　lamps　cast　mellow　light　that　softened　the　scarred　house　fronts。　The　night　was　warm；　people　upon　balconies　overlooked　the　passing　strollers。　Keen；　foreign　faces　formed　a　good　proportion　of　those　behind　the　upstairs　rails。
　　Among　those　on　the　street　were　two　who　had　been　on　the　go　since　dusk。
　　Cardona　and　Wayson　had　maintained　a　haphazard　course　in　their　bined　search　for　Cyro。　They　had　visited　places　that　the　police　lieutenant　called　〃two…bit　joints〃：　twenty…five　cents　for　a　drink；　a　sandwich　or　a　dance。
　　They　had　stopped　in　little　restaurants；　and　for　a　while　they　had　loitered　about　an　absinthe　shop　that　held　more　than　the　usual　quota　of　foreigners。
　　Everywhere；　Wayson　had　sown　seeds　that　might　grow。　He　had　told　persons　of　the　French　Quarter　that　the　police　were　looking　for　a　gentleman　of　crime…a　con　man　who　did　not　belong　in　New　Orleans。　He　had　made　it　plain　that　word　of　such　a　stranger　would　be　appreciated。
　　The　tour　had　halted　in　Gallion's　Restaurant；　where　Wayson　had　suggested　a　midnight　meal。　Seated　at　a　corner　table；　Joe　Cardona　noted　a　balcony　along　the　back　of　the　main　room；　with　an　entrance　to　another　part　of　the　restaurant。
　　Monsieur　Gallion；　with　pointed　mustache；　came　over　and　chatted　in　French　with　Wayson。　Then　the　proprietor　broke　into　convivial　Italian　when　introduced　by　Wayson　to　Cardona。
　　〃Wait　until　we　visit　some　water…front　beaneries；〃　chuckled　Wayson；　as　a　waiter　took　their　order。　〃You'll　hear　every　lingo　there。　But　these　are　the　spots　where　Cyro　might　be。　A　swindler　might　land　a　sucker　at　Gallion's。〃
　　As　Wayson　spoke；　Cardona　noted　a　tall；　keen…visaged　stranger　enter　the　restaurant。　Joe　had　a　hunch　that　he　had　previously　seen　the　newer　somewhere　else　in　the　French　Quarter。　He　did　not　suspect　that　he　was　looking　at　The　Shadow。
　　As　Justin　Oswood；　The　Shadow　had　trailed　Wayson　and　Cardona　during　the　entire　evening。　Sometimes　close；　sometimes　at　a　distance；　he　had　constantly　kept　inconspicuous。　He　had　heard　Wayson　state…hours　ago…that　they　would　wind　up　at　Gallion's。
　　More　than　that；　The　Shadow　had　spied　others　watching　Wayson　and　Cardona　…
　　particularly　in　the　absinthe　house。　There；　a　squint…eyed　foreigner　had　overheard　Wayson　mentioning　Gallion's。　The　squinty　individual　had　departed　promptly　afterward；　so　quickly　that　The　Shadow；　handicapped　by　his　part　of　Oswood；　had　been　unable　to　follow。
　　At　one　time　during　the　evening；　The　Shadow　had　dropped　the　trail。　That　was　when　Wayson　had　announced　a　brief　portion　of　his　ing　route。　The　Shadow　had　left；　he　had　hailed　a　cab　and　gone　to　the　Hotel　Bontezan；　where　he　was　registered　as　Justin　Oswood。　Returning　to　the　trail；　he　had　stopped　at　Gallion's；　to　leave　a　package。　Then　he　had　picked　up　the　course　of　Wayson　and　Cardona。
　　The　trip　had　been　a　short　one；　for　the　Bontezan　overlooked　the　French　Quarter。　At　present；　returned　to　Gallion's；　The　Shadow　quietly　asked　the　waiter　for　his　package。　The　man　produced　it；　and　placed　it　on　a　chair　beside　the　customer。
　　Indulging　in　a　light　meal；　The　Shadow　had　finished　before　Wayson　and　Cardona　were　half　through。　He　remained；　however；　smoking　a　cigar。　Thus　he　saw　a　shirt…sleeved　man　who　entered　and　walked　over　to　Wayson's　table。　He　understood　the　French　that　the　fellow　uttered。　He　saw　Wayson　nod；　he　watched　the　man　go　out。
　　〃A　tip；〃　confided　Wayson　to　Cardona。　〃I　thought　one　might　be　ing。〃
　　〃About　Cyro？〃　asked　Joe。
　　〃It　may　be；〃　replied　Wayson。　〃That　chap　came　from　Pierre　Debeq。〃
　　〃Who　is　Debeq？〃
　　〃An　old　Frenchman　who　lives　in　a　house　at　the　end　of　a　little　alley　near　Royal　Street。　He　has　a　great　many　wealthy　friends；　although　his　own　finances　are　limited。　I　think　I　see　a　light。〃
　　〃About　Cyro？〃
　　〃Yes。　Maybe　somebody　who　knows　Debeq　spoke　to　him　about　some　swindler　being　in　town。　It's　a　good　lead。　Swallow　your　coffee。　We'll　go　over　and　see　Debeq。〃
　　
　　WHILE　the　two　men　were　putting　a　hasty　finish　to　their　meal；　The　Shadow　arose　and　strolled　from　the　restaurant。　Under　his　arm；　he　was　carrying　the　package　that　he　had　obtained　at　Gallion's。　In　the　brisk　manner　of　Justin　Oswood；　he　walked　one　block　in　the　direction　of　the　Hotel　Bontezan。　That　distance　covered；　The　Shadow　changed　his　course。　He　came　to　an　empty　house　between　two　street　lamps。　He　stepped　beneath　the　shelter　of　a　deep　balcony。
　　There　was　a　sound　of　crinkling　paper；　as　The　Shadow　opened　the　package　which　he　carried。　Totally　obscured　by　the　gloom；　The　Shadow　remained　in　this　temporary　shelter。　Something　swished　softly　in　the　darkness。　Then　came　silence。
　　A　splotch　of　darkness　moved　along　the　sidewalk；　it　wavered　past　the　fringe　of　the　nearest　lamplight。　A　patrolling　policeman　spied　the　phenomenon；　purely　by　chance。　He　stared　suspiciously　at　the　overhanging　balcony。
　　Clicking　his　flashlight；　the　patrolman　made　an　inspection　of　the　sheltering　space。　The　rays　showed　no　one　beneath　the　balcony…nothing　except　a　wall　of　crumbling　brick。　The　patrolman　resumed　his　beat。　Quiet　reigned　within　the　Vieux　Carre。
　　Silently；　mysteriously；　The　Shadow　had　blended　with　the　night。　No　longer　passing　as　Justin　Oswood；　he　had　assumed　his　favored　garb；　that　cloak　of　blackness　that　so　well…befitted　the　night…splotched　byways　of　this　antiquated　area。
　　
　　WHILE　The　Shadow　was　finding　seclusion　in　the　cover　of　darkness；　two　others　were　also　deciding　that　the　quiet　of　the　French　Quarter　suited　them。
　　Cardona　and　Wayson　had　paced　away　from　Gallion's　and　were　almost　to　the　residence　of　Pierre　Debeq。
　　〃There'