mg.dictatorofcrime-第13部分

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　　SO　silent　was　the　shop；　that　the　swish　of　The　Shadow's　cloak　was　audible　as　he　passed　through　to　the　front　door；　which　opened　on　another　street；　closer　to　the　Imperial　Hotel。
　　Closed　for　the　night；　the　shop　was　made　to　order　for　The　Shadow's　purposes；　for　its　interior　was　pitch…black；　but　with　no　obstructions　to　delay　a　person　passing　through　it。
　　Evidently　The　Shadow　knew　that　such　would　be　the　case；　for　he　did　not　use　his　flashlight。　Reaching　the　front　door；　he　found　it　as　expected。　It　wasn't　bolted；　it　simply　had　a　heavy　burglar…proof　latch；　which　enabled　The　Shadow　to　step　out　and　leave　the　door　as　he　had　found　it；　by　simply　closing　it　behind　him。
　　Even　outdoors；　The　Shadow　found　his　favorite　habitat：　darkness。　The　door　of　the　shop　was　under　a　projecting　balcony；　which　entirely　cut　off　the　glow　of　the　old…fashioned　street　lamps　so　prevalent　in　Libertad。
　　Keeping　to　the　shelter　of　balconies；　crossing　the　street　at　places　where　the　lights　were　feeble；　The　Shadow　glided　past　a　corner　and　came　upon　the　Plaza　del　Libertador；　opposite　the　Imperial　Hotel。　There　he　paused　within　the　last　fringe　of　darkness。
　　It　was　a　fiesta　night　in　Libertad　which　accounted　for　the　shops　being　closed。　The　populace　had　deserted　the　narrow　streets　for　open　spaces　such　as　the　great　plaza；　and　the　scene　was　one　of　life　and　gaiety。
　　But　The　Shadow　wasn't　interested　in　the　costumery　of　the　merrymakers；　who　were　enjoying　pleasures　that　would　cease　when　the　iron　hand　of　Castenago　tightened。　He　sympathized　with　them　profoundly；　and　wished　that　their　era　of　carefree　revelry　would　long　continue。
　　That；　in　itself；　was　reason　why　The　Shadow's　attention　should　be　centered　elsewhere。　Upon　what　he　learned　tonight；　would　hinge　his　whole　campaign　toward　ending　the　tyranny　of　Luis　Castenago。
　　The　Shadow　looked　across　the　street　to　the　front　of　the　hotel。　He　saw　the　ancient　taxicab　that　he　had　hired　as　Allard。　It　was　the　center　of　much　speculation；　voiced　in　voluble　Spanish；　by　hotel　employees；　police；　and　even　soldiers；　all　picturesque　in　their　assorted　uniforms。
　　Cabs　didn't　often　roll　up　to　the　Imperial　Hotel　without　passengers　inside　them；　unless　they　had　been　ordered。　This　cab　should　have　had　a　passenger；　the　driver　was　describing　him　and　swearing　by　the　sacred　volcano　of　Lotomoro　that　he　had　brought　the　man　in　question　from　the　Casino　Internacional。
　　A　serious　offense　on　the　part　of　the　missing　passenger；　could　the　cab　driver　prove　that　he　really　had　one；　for　the　Castenago　regime　was　very　strict　on　such　matters。
　　Nevertheless；　the　chance　arrival　of　an　empty　cab　did　not　account　for　all　the　police　and　soldiers。　The　Shadow　laughed　softly　as　he　looked　up　and　saw　the　real　reason。
　　A　light　blinked　off　from　an　upstairs　window；　the　very　room　which　The　Shadow　occupied　as　Kent　Allard。　The　police　and　military　had　been　finishing　the　search　ordered　by　Castenago；　when　the　cab　arrived。
　　The　last　of　the　searchers　came　downstairs。　They　were　a　pair　of　Castenago's　sinister　gatomontes。　The　men　in　fancier　uniforms　began　reporting　to　them。　The　case　had　reached　the　proper　hands　to　bring　official　results。　The　Shadow　let　his　gaze　range　his　own　side　of　the　street；　and　saw　what　he　expected。
　　A　car；　parked　in　the　darkness；　was　getting　into　motion；　its　lights　dimmed。
　　It　was　ing　right　past　The　Shadow；　the　very　car　that　had　followed　the　cab　from　the　casino。
　　
　　
　　IN　swinging　the　corner；　the　cab　had　to　pass　beneath　a　street　light；　so　The　Shadow　watched　it　closely。　He　knew　that　it　wouldn't　contain　gatomontes；　because　there　had　been　none　of　them　around　the　casino。　He　was　sure　that　this　car　was　manned　by　irregulars；　in　the　service　of　Castenago。　Having　lured　them　into　the　light；　The　Shadow　wanted　to　identify　them。
　　A　sharp　glitter　came　from　the　cab。　It　was　the　muzzle　of　a　machine　gun；　trained　directly　toward　The　Shadow；　but　it　didn't　begin　to　mouth　deadly　flame。
　　The　men　behind　the　rapid…fire　weapon　failed　to　see　The　Shadow　in　his　nest　of　gloom；　even　though　they　were　leaning　from　their　car；　intent　on　searching　every　inch　of　the　route　back　to　the　casino。　All　they　did　was　put　their　own　faces　on　display　for　The　Shadow's　eaglelike　scrutiny。
　　The　Shadow　recognized　those　faces。　He　had　seen　them　before。　Leader　of　the　murderous　roving　band　was　Murk　Wessel；　the　men　with　him　were　the　sharpshooting　lieutenants　who　had　aided　in　the　wiping　out　of　Jose　Durez　and　his　panions　from　Centralba！
　　There　was　a　whispered　laugh　when　the　cab　had　passed；　then　The　Shadow；　too；　was　gone；　sidling　uncannily　through　the　darkness。　The　tone　of　The　Shadow's　mirth　did　not　betoken　a　discovery。　It　merely　announced　the　proof　of　a　well…held　theory。
　　While　the　New　York　police　were　tracking　down　the　planted　rumors　that　Murk　Wessel　and　his　band　of　killers　were　somewhere　in　Manhattan；　The　Shadow　had　unearthed　that　notorious　crowd　in　the　one　refuge　where　no　one　else　had　thought　to　look　for　them。
　　Only　The　Shadow　could　have　analyzed　the　truth：　that　Murk　Wessel　had　not　operated　on　his　own；　but　was　secretly　in　the　employ　of　Luis　Castenago！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　XI　
　　　FRIENDS　OF　THE　SHADOW　
　　NATIVES　were　dancing　in　the　esplanade　of　National　University　when　The　Shadow　arrived　there。　There　were　students　among　the　crowd；　and　they　were　amusing　themselves　in　various　ways。
　　Some　were　tossing　pennies　to　the　stolid　marimba　player；　who　still　kept　up　his　musical　beats　outside　the　patio　entrance　to　Professor　Peridor's　mansion。
　　Others　were　engaged　in　catching　fireflies；　of　the　amazing　red…and…green　variety　seen　in　the　tropics。　The　insects　looked　like　flying　traffic　lights；　and　they　stayed　at　an　appropriate　altitude；　which　made　them　difficult　to　trap。
　　Whenever　snared；　they　immediately　bee　adornments　for　high　bs　worn　by　the　promenading　senoritas；　wherein　they　shone　like　decorative　jewels。
　　The　briskness　of　the　firefly　hunt　forced　The　Shadow　to　travel　close　to　Peridor's　wall　in　order　to　avoid　the　roaming　students。　They　avoided　the　wall　as　if　it　were　charged　with　electricity；　because　they　knew　the　ways　of　the　patrolling　soldiers。　Castenago's　militia　was　trained　to　shoot　at　sight；　should　anyone　violate　a　taboo。
　　As　The　Shadow　kept　to　the　wall's　sheltering　gloom；　he　heard　rifles　crackle；　at　intervals；　followed　by　an　immediate　scattering　of　students　and　a　fluttery　flight　of　pigeons　from　the　esplanade。
　　Fortunately；　the　soldiers　were　indifferent　marksmen。　Students　and　pigeons　promptly　returned　to　their　respective　tasks…the　students　plucking　fireflies　for　the　senoritas　who；　meanwhile；　were　feeding　almonds　to　the　pigeons。
　　Around　the　corner　of　the　wall；　The　Shadow　saw　a　uniformed　man　approach　against　the　light　from　the　esplanade。　Blended　with　the　tan　stucco　background；　The　Shadow　awaited　the　soldier's　arrival。　Scouting　students　dashed　close；　saw　the　uniform；　and　scudded　away　as　the　soldier　raised　his　rifle。
　　With　a　long　stretch；　The　Shadow　reached　the　top　of　the　wall　and　lifted　himself　by　his　very　fingertips。　His　soft…toed　shoes　dug　into　the　stucco；　and　he　was　rolling　across　the　wall　top　when　the　soldier　resumed　patrol。
　　The　patio　resembled　a　sunken　garden；　being　several　feet　deeper　than　the　ground　outside。　Clumps　of　shrubbery　might　prove　the　lurking　spots　of　inside　guards　posted　by　Castenago；　so　The　Shadow　decided　to　choose　the　spot　where　he　dropped。
　　There　were　trees　inside　the　wall；　and　one；　a　coconut　palm；　sprouted　from　the　midst　of　flowery　tropical　bushes。　It　looked　like　a　good　landing　spot；　so　The　Shadow　flicked　the　pencil　beam　of　his　tiny　flashlight　toward　it。
　　Instantly；　crouched　figures　came　to　life。　They　could　only　be　gatomontes；　for　no　other　uniforms　would　have　blended　so　well　with　the　shrubbery。　Their　silence　told　that　they　were　ready　to　shoot；　once　sure　where　the　prowler　with　the　flashlight　was　located。
　　The　Shadow　was　quite　sure　that　the　gatomontes　were　excellent　marksmen　with　revolvers。　Shifting　along　the　wall；　he　reached　for　the　thick…sprayed　foliage　of　the　palm　tree。
　　Voices　hissed　below。　The　gatomontes　were　preparing　to　rake　the　wall　with　their　fire。　Even　if　The　Shadow　beat　them　to　the　shots；　it　wouldn't　help。　The　sound　of　any　gun　within　the　patio　would　bring　a　score　of　guards；　with　powerful　flashlights。　So　The　Shadow　flicked　his　own　flashlight；　instead。
　　However；　its　beam　was　no　longer　white。　This　was　the　special　flashlight　which　he　often　used　in　signaling　his　agents。　Its　glow　could　be　adjusted　to　red　or　green；　and　The　Shadow　used　both。
　　The　well…timed　flickers　were　a　perfect　representation　of　the　local　firefly。　Hovering　between　palms　and　wall；　the　blinks　provided　actual　illumination。　Like　tiny　beacons　from　the　blackness；　they　guided　the　lurkers；　giving　them　opportunity　to　work　along　the　wall　without　using　their　own　flashlights。
　　They　were　evidently　pleased　that　such　a　magnificent　firefly　should　have　drifted　by　at　such　a　moment。　But　the　〃firefly〃　was　skittish。　It　suddenly　floated　toward　the　wall；　gave　quick；　parting　flashes　and　disappeared。
　　It　was　gone　beneath　The　Shadow's　cloak；　and　the　men　below　were　suddenly　curious　regarding　the　firefly's　gyrations。
　　
　　
　　EASING　toward　the　branches　of　the　palm；　The　Shadow　tilted　his　head　at　an　angle　and　counted　coconuts　against　the　re