mg.cyro-第23节

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tered　and　turned　on　the　light。
　　The　dark…faced　man　began　to　unpack　a　bag。　The　door；　almost　fully　opened；　prevented　him　from　seeing　the　figure　that　stood　behind　it。　While　Larribez　was　still　placing　articles　in　a　bureau　drawer；　there　was　a　soft　knock　at　the　outer　door　of　the　living　room。
　　Larribez　went　to　answer　it。　He　turned　out　the　bedroom　light　while　on　the　way；　but　he　left　the　door　open。
　　The　Shadow　heard　someone　enter　the　living　room。　Peering　through　the　crack　of　the　door；　he　observed　a　stocky；　rough…faced　fellow　who　had　entered。
　　〃They're　getting　set；〃　announced　the　arrival。　〃Down　at　a　joint　called　the　Cafe　Internationale…a　water…front　beanery　run　by　a　Frenchy　named　Michlieu。〃
　　〃I　know　the　place；〃　replied　Larribez；　in　a　slightly　foreign　accent。　〃But　it　is　not　the　one　that　I　should　have　chosen。　There　are　too　many　other　people　there。〃
　　〃Downstairs；　yes；〃　admitted　the　other　man。　〃But　Michlieu's　got　an　upstairs　joint　for　the　overflow。　I　told　him　I　was　trying　to　get　a　crew　for　a　tramp　steamer。　I　paid　him　for　the　use　of　the　upstairs　room。〃
　　〃Excellent；　Dombar！〃　decided　Larribez。　〃You　can　make　your　headquarters　there。〃
　　〃And　I'll　stay　there；〃　added　Dombar；　〃I'm　wanted　in　this　town　for　that　mutiny　on　the　Stellar　five　years　ago。　Nobody　knows　I'm　the　guy　that　crowned　the　skipper　with　a　belaying　pin；　but…〃
　　〃Forget　your　previous　murders；　Dombar；〃　interposed　Larribez；　calmly。　〃The　other　men　have　all　performed　similar　deeds。　That　is　why　I　chose　them　and　brought　them　here。　You　are　in　charge　only　because　you　are　an　American。　When　will　the　crew　assemble？〃
　　〃Inside　an　hour。　Password　is　the　one　you　gave　me：　Cajobabo。　I've　passed　the　word　to　the　ones　I　know；　they'll　get　it　to　the　rest。〃
　　〃And　all　will　soon　be　acquainted。　All　right；　Dombar。　You　must　return　to　the　Cafe　Internationale。　Call　me　by　the　telephone　after　this…unless　you　hear　from　me；　through　someone　with　the　countersign。〃
　　The　door　closed。　Jose　Larribez　was　alone。　The　ex…Porrista　made　a　few　notations　at　the　writing　desk；　then　turned　to　re…enter　the　bedroom。　Jose　Larribez　was　totally　oblivious　to　the　fact　that　his　conversation　with　Dombar　had　been　overheard。
　　Yet　every　word　of　that　brief　talk　had　reached　The　Shadow's　ears。　Already；　the　unseen　listener　was　pleting　plans　for　an　immediate　campaign。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　XVIII　
　　　THE　SHADOW'S　THRUST　
　　THE　Cafe　Internationale　occupied　a　shoddy　building　not　far　from　the　water　front。　On　the　fringe　of　the　Vieux　Carre；　the　place　was　a　meeting　spot　for　seamen　ing　back　and　forth　between　the　city　and　their　ships。
　　More　than　that；　it　was　a　rendezvous　for　men　of　all　nations。　Michlieu　had　given　his　joint　an　appropriate　name。　The　babel　of　many　tongues　was　monplace　in　the　stone…walled　room　of　this　water…front　den。
　　Ordinarily；　the　cafe　was　a　peaceful　beanery。　The　presence　of　so　many　nationalities　caused　confusion；　but　also　served　as　a　preventative　against　riots。　As　a　rule；　no　group　predominated　in　sufficient　force　to　start　massed　trouble。　Brawls　usually　ended　with　the　arrival　of　the　police。
　　Michlieu　was　not　famed　for　the　quality　of　his　cuisine。　His　forte　was　to　supply　varied　foods；　attractive　to　the　many　foreign　seamen　simply　because　they　were　dishes　found　in　their　own　lands。　Drinks；　too；　were　of　considerable　variety。
　　In　this　hangout；　Chinamen　swallowed　rice　whisky　at　the　same　tables　where　rugged　Germans　ordered　steins　of　lager。　Spaniards　from　the　Latin　Quarter　met　with　men　who　spoke　their　own　tongue：　sailors　from　South　American　countries。　On　this　night；　a　sprinkling　of　Brazilians　were　present。　These　were　members　of　the　crew　from　the　Tarrano；　who　chatted　in　Portuguese。
　　There　were　others　from　the　Tarrano　who　talked　in　Spanish；　along　with　a　few　of　Dombar's　ilk：　Americans　who　had　e　with　the　same　ship。　These　members　of　the　crew　did　not　seat　themselves　in　tables　about　the　lower　room。　Instead；　they　strolled　past　toward　a　stairway　that　led　to　the　second　floor。
　　Occasionally；　intruders　made　for　that　stairway。　The　hard…boiled　waiters　let　them　pass。　But　they　observed　that　these　unwanted　seamen　invariably　came　downstairs　after　a　brief　argument　with　someone　above。
　　Behind　the　Cafe　Internationale　was　a　low…roofed　building　that　offered　access　to　the　second　floor。　Standing　by　the　wall　of　this　adjoining　structure　was　a　huge　African；　attired　in　grimy　overalls。　He　looked　like　a　stoker　from　some　ship。
　　A　square…shouldered　man　came　strolling　past。　He；　too；　was　roughly　clad。　As　he　paused　to　light　a　cigarette；　the　flame　showed　his　face　as　a　clean…chiseled　countenance。
　　〃Ready；　Jericho？〃　questioned　the　newer；　in　a　whisper。
　　〃All　set；　Mr。　Marsland；〃　returned　the　African。　〃Tell　me　when　to　start。〃
　　〃I'm　waiting　for　Hawkeye。　You'll　see　us　go　in。〃
　　
　　CLIFF　MARSLAND；　agent　of　The　Shadow；　moved　away。　Further　along；　he　passed　another　man　of　his　own　build。　This　was　Harry　Vincent；　also　of　The　Shadow's　forces。　They　had　e　here　from　New　York；　in　response　to　orders　through　Rutledge　Mann。
　　A　hunched　figure　appeared　on　the　opposite　sidewalk。　Cliff　spoke　to　Harry　and　received　a　low　reply。　The　new　arrival　was　〃Hawkeye。〃　Cliff　crossed　and　met　the　newer。　Once　a　crook；　now　reformed；　Hawkeye　was　here　to　serve　The　Shadow。
　　He　looked　like　a　roustabout　in　his　present　attire。
　　Harry　Vincent；　alone　again；　heard　a　strange　whisper　from　the　darkness。　He　could　not　see　the　person　who　had　uttered　it；　but　he　recognized　the　signal。　He　had　heard　The　Shadow's　whisper　earlier　tonight。　Harry　had　brought　the　other　agents　to　the　vicinity　of　the　Cafe　Internationale。
　　Harry　signaled　with　his　hand。　Cliff　Marsland　and　Hawkeye　strolled　toward　the　cafe。　Harry　followed。　Jericho　waited　at　his　post。　Then；　with　the　slouch　of　a　lazy　Goliath；　the　big　African　moved　along。　He　stooped　as　he　entered　the　portals　of　the　Cafe　Internationale。
　　The　place　was　crowded。　Jericho　lounged　through　the　smoke…filled　room；　where　the　aromas　of　many　tobaccos　formed　a　nauseating　medley。　He　spied　the　stairway。　Stooping；　Jericho　ascended。　He　was　stopped　by　a　wiry　ruffian　at　the　top。
　　〃What　you　want　here？〃　questioned　the　man。
　　〃Cajobabo；〃　returned　Jericho；　with　a　grin。
　　The　fellow　surveyed　the　African　giant。　He　nudged　his　thumb　toward　the　door。　Jericho　entered。　Men　stopped　talking　as　he　appeared。　One　arose。　It　was　Dombar。
　　〃Who　let　you　in？〃　quizzed　the　ugly　faced　man。　〃Wasn't　there　a　fellow　here　at　the　door？〃
　　〃I　gave　the　word；〃　replied　Jericho；　still　grinning。　〃Cajobabo　was　it。〃
　　Dombar　looked　about。　He　caught　shrugs　of　shoulders　and　shakes　of　heads。
　　None　of　the　outfit　claimed　Jericho　as　one　of　their　mates。
　　〃Where　did　you　hear　this　Cajobabo？〃　demanded　Dombar；　defiantly。
　　〃Out　at　the　door；〃　returned　Jericho。　〃I　says　how　do　ya　get　in　here；　mister？　He　says　'Cajobabo'…〃
　　〃Yeah？　We'll　ask　him。〃
　　Dombar　strode　to　the　door。　Jericho　slouched　after　him。　They　faced　the　ruffian　who　was　on　guard。　Standing　at　the　top　of　the　steps；　Dombar　growled：
　　〃Why　did　you　let　this　man　in　here？〃
　　〃He　tell　me　Cajobabo；〃　returned　the　guard。
　　〃And　you　didn't　spill　it　to　him？〃　quizzed　Dombar。　〃Like　he　said　inside　…
　　that　you　told　it　to　him…〃
　　〃He　tell　me　Cajobabo！〃
　　The　guard　thrust　his　hand　inside　his　shirt。　Something　flashed　from　beneath　the　grime　of　the　blue　flannel。　Dombar　gave　a　nod。　As　the　guard　yanked　a　knife；　Dombar　leaped　for　Jericho。
　　
　　WITH　a　roar　of　laughter；　the　African　side…stepped。　His　massive　left　paw　was　already　swinging。　It　clamped　the　knife…drawing　guard　by　the　neck　and　spun　the　fellow　about；　on　a　helpless　teeter。　As　Dombar　missed　Jericho's　throat；　the　big　fellow　caught　him　with　a　quick　right　hand。
　　Huge　arms　swung　together。　Two　skulls　cracked　forcibly。　The　burdens　slumped　from　Jericho's　grasp。　The　guard　sprawled　on　the　steps；　Dombar　toppled　headlong　and　went　skidding　downward。
　　At　the　same　instant；　chairs　scraped　heavily　below。　From　the　tables　nearest　the　stairway；　agents　of　The　Shadow　sprang　to　their　feet　and　started　a　dash　up　the　steps。　But　Jericho　was　not　awaiting　them。
　　Just　inside　the　door　of　the　upstairs　room　was　a　small　but　heavy　table。　The　instant　that　he　dropped　Dombar　and　the　guard；　Jericho　turned　back　into　the　room。
　　He　grabbed　the　table　as　a　weapon。
　　Murderers　were　on　their　feet。　These　minions　of　Larribez　were　no　ordinary　brawlers。　They　had　seen　their　rades　fall。　They　were　out　to　kill。　Dirks　flashed。　One　knife　came　zimming　through　the　air。
　　Jericho　had　swung　the　table　as　a　shield。　The　whizzing　knife　buried　deep　in　the　tabletop　that　the　African　held　before　him。　Dropping　his　grinning　face　behind　the　wooden　surface；　Jericho　let　another　blade　skim　past　his　head。　He　plunged　forward　like　a　huge　bull。　Then；　with　a　sidesweep；　he　began　to　swing　the　table。
　　One　man　sprawled；　a　gun　clattering　from　his　fist。　Jericho　had　backed　into　a　corner；　beating　out　with　the　table　as　if　it　were　a　mammoth　club。　Other　guns　were　flashing。　Shots　barked　from　the　door。　Would…be　killers　turned。　They　fired　back　at　the　agents　of　The　Shadow。
　　Low　upon　the　steps；　Cliff；　Harry　and　Hawkeye　were　safe　from　the　bullets　that　ricocheted　from　stone。
　　Ruffians　turned　as　Jericho　emitted　a　huge　laugh。　They　saw　him　holding　the　table　in　his　right　hand　as　he　pointed　to