mg.cityofcrime-第7节

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　Steadily；　Estelle　returned　to　the　side　door　and　inserted　the　key。　She　found　the　door　locked。　The　Shadow　had　silently　attended　to　that　detail　from　outside。　Estelle　managed　a　slight　laugh；　as　she　went　into　the　hall　and　placed　the　key　in　her　hand　bag。
　A　puzzled　frown　appeared　upon　her　forehead。　She　would　have　liked　to　have　learned　more　concerning　this　mysterious　stranger　from　the　night。　She　recalled　rumors　that　she　had　heard　this　very　day；　concerning　the　raid　made　last　night；　by　Lieutenant　Maclare。　There　was　talk　of　persons　unknown；　who　had　sided　with　the　law。
　Estelle　believed　that　rumor；　but　she　was　convinced　that　one　fighter；　not　a　group；　had　been　responsible　for　the　aid　that　Maclare　had　received。　Estelle　could　form　that　opinion　from　her　own　observation。　She　was　still　overwhelmed　with　admiration　for　The　Shadow's　prowess　in　tonight's　battle。
　As　she　closed　the　hand　bag；　Estelle　smiled。　After　all；　The　Shadow　had　taken　the　key　that　she　had　offered。　That　seemed　more　than　courtesy。　Sometime　…
　soon；　she　hoped…the　black…clad　stranger　might　return。
　In　her　thoughts；　Estelle　pictured　this　house　as　a　real　haven　in　the　heart　of　Westford；　should　The　Shadow　need　the　refuge　that　it　could　afford。　Such　need　seemed　likely　to　Estelle；　when　she　considered　the　odds　that　this　lone　fighter　faced。　Circumstances　could　arise　to　make　The　Shadow's　return　imperative。
　Though　Estelle　Benbrook　did　not　guess　it；　such　circumstances　were　already　in　the　making。
　
　
　CHAPTER　VI　
　CROOKS　CONNIVE　
　NOT　far　from　the　center　of　Westford　stood　a　large　apartment　house　that　fronted　on　a　boulevard。　This　new　and　pretentious　edifice　had　supplanted　part　of　a　row　of　old　brick　houses。　The　remnants　of　the　row　began　at　the　side　of　the　apartment　house　and　continued　to　a　corner。　Deserted　and　dilapidated；　they　were　ready　for　demolition。
　The　front　windows　on　the　second　floor　of　the　apartment　house　were　heavily　curtained；　all　in　the　same　style。　They　gave　the　impression　that　they　belonged　to　one　apartment；　which　they　did。　That　apartment　was　the　residence　of　Stephen　Ruthley；　the　wealthiest　man　in　Westford。
　Ruthley　called　the　apartment　his　town　home；　and　he　considered　an　entire　floor　necessary　for　fort；　although　his　family　seldom　occupied　the　apartment　with　him。　They　preferred　a　country　house；　some　miles　from　Westford。　They　lived　there　during　the　short　intervals　when　they　came　home　from　Newport；　Florida；　or　Europe。
　Hence；　Stephen　Ruthley　lived　alone；　except　for　a　retinue　of　servants；　and　he　liked　this　second　floor　apartment　near　the　heart　of　Westford。
　Recognized　as　the　city's　most　prominent　citizen；　Ruthley　enjoyed　his　prestige。　He　gained　acclaim　for　his　philanthropies　and　his　constant　stand　for　reform。　His　real　pleasure；　however；　lay　in　the　fact　that　never　a　whisper　had　passed　concerning　his　actual　capacity。　None　but　his　most　trusted　lieutenants　knew　that　Stephen　Ruthley　was　the　real　political　boss　of　Westford。
　Beginning　with　half　a　million　dollars　gained　from　honest　enterprise；　Ruthley　had　increased　his　fortune　to　ten　times　that　amount　by　backing　graft　and　crime。　He　had　covered　this　procedure　by　expanding　his　legitimate　businesses　and　making　them　look　prosperous；　though　they　cost　him　more　than　he　gained。　Ruthley　considered　this　essential。　As　overlord　of　Westford；　he　maintained　his　security　by　keeping　his　real　activities　unknown。
　There　were　two　reasons　why　none　of　Ruthley's　associates　had　ever　dared　to　expose　his　game。　First；　because　no　one　would　have　believed　them；　second　because　they　were　in　too　deep。　Ruthley　took　care　of　his　tools；　saw　to　it　that　they　gained　their　share　of　the　spoils。　That　kept　them　satisfied；　and　maintained　their　loyalty　to　their　evil　chief。
　
　
　ON　this　night；　soon　after　The　Shadow　had　rescued　Estelle　Benbrook；　Stephen　Ruthley　had　a　visitor。　The　caller　was　a　stuffed…shirt　henchman；　who　was　at　present　Ruthley's　most　useful　figurehead。　He　was　Elvin　Marclot；　mayor　of　Westford；　whom　Ruthley　had　carried　into　office　on　a　sweeping　wave　of　so…called　reform。
　The　pair　were　seated　in　Ruthley's　den；　a　room　that　had　windows　only　at　the　front；　for　it　was　the　side　of　the　apartment　that　was　buttressed　by　the　side　wall　of　the　first　house　in　the　row。
　Ruthley's　den　was　a　cross　between　an　office　and　a　clubroom。　It　had　a　desk　in　the　corner；　along　with　a　filing　cabinet。　Except　for　those　articles　of　office　equipment；　it　was　furnished　with　deep…cushioned　chairs　and　couches；　thick　rugs；　ornate　tables。
　The　side　wall　showed　a　pair　of　large　bookcases；　set　apart；　between　them　was　a　huge；　life…sized　painting　that　depicted　Aramis；　of　the　〃Three　Musketeers。〃　The　bottom　of　the　full…length　picture　was　less　than　two　feet　from　the　floor；　the　heavy　mahogany　frame　was　flush　against　the　wall。
　Ruthley　was　seated　in　an　armchair；　smoking　an　expensive　cigar。　Marclot　was　opposite　him；　watching　him。　In　appearance；　as　well　as　manner；　the　two　formed　an　absolute　contrast。
　Stephen　Ruthley　was　elderly；　yet　active。　His　face　was　calm；　pleasant；　almost　fatherly。　His　eyes；　though　searching；　carried　a　twinkle；　his　gray　hair　added　to　his　genial　look。　All　this　was　a　mask　that　Ruthley　had　worn　for　years；　he　seldom　dropped　it；　even　when　he　had　no　need　for　pretense。　In　fact；　Ruthley　prided　himself　upon　the　fact　that　when　his　temper　rose；　he　could　play　his　friendly；　reassuring　part　to　real　perfection。
　Elvin　Marclot　was　portly；　pompous　and　round…faced；　serious　of　expression；　he　was　ever　ready　to　draw　himself　up　and　blubber　in　righteous　indignation。　He　used　that　method　to　cover　his　crooked　nature；　it　worked　well　in　public；　but　it　was　useless　in　Ruthley's　presence。　The　boss　always　had　the　mayor　at　a　disadvantage；　for　Ruthley's　calmness　seemed　natural；　while　Marclot's　self…importance　did　not。
　Tonight；　if　Ruthley　chanced　to　be　nervous；　he　did　not　show　it。　Marclot；　however；　was　jittery；　and　could　not　cover　the　fact。　He　had　already　reported　important　news；　all　that　he　could　do　was　repeat　it。
　〃They've　finished　Dunson　by　this　time；　Steve；〃　insisted　Marclot；　in　a　tone　that　was　almost　a　whine。　〃Kirk　Borman　called　me；　like　I　told　you。　I　thought　I'd　better　be　here　when　the　news　came…〃
　
　
　THE　telephone　bell　rang。　Marclot　trembled　as　he　reached　for　the　telephone；　which　was　on　a　mahogany　table　near　the　door。　Ruthley　stopped　him。
　〃Let　Haija　answer　it；〃　ordered　Ruthley。　〃He　always　does。〃
　Marclot　sank　back　in　his　chair；　A　Japanese　house…man　entered；　picked　up　the　telephone　and　spoke　in　mechanical　fashion。　He　turned　about　and　held　the　instrument　toward　Marclot；　with　the　statement：
　〃Call　for　Honorable　Mr。　Mayor。〃
　Marclot　took　the　telephone　shakily；　gulped　as　he　spoke。　Ruthley　listened　intently　to　the　conversation。
　〃Yes。。。〃　Marclot；　always　a　faker；　pretended　to　be　astonished。　〃What　is　that；　director？　A　murder？。。。　Not　our　friend　Prescott　Dunson？。。。　This　is　terrible！　Terrible！。。。　Yes。　It　would　be　wise　for　you　to　e　here　at　once。。。〃
　Haija　took　the　telephone　as　soon　as　Marclot　hung　up。　The　Japanese　replaced　the　instrument　on　the　table　and　stalked　from　the　room。　Marclot　spoke　to　Ruthley　in　a　trembling　tone。
　〃They　got　Dunson！〃　the　mayor　quivered。　〃Borman's　on　his　way　here。〃
　〃How　soon　will　that　be？〃
　〃He　said　within　five　minutes。〃
　Ruthley　and　Marclot　dropped　their　conversation。　Just　as　Ruthley　flicked　another　length　of　ashes　from　his　cigar；　Haija　entered　to　announce　that　the　police　director　had　arrived。　Kirk　Borman　was　ushered　into　the　den。　As　soon　as　Haija　was　gone；　the　sharp…faced　police　director　talked　business。
　〃They　chopped　down　Dunson　in　front　of　Judge　Benbrook's　house；〃　stated　Borman。　〃But　there　was　a　lot　of　fireworks　afterward。　Some　sharpshooter　began　to　pick　off　the　men　in　Lance's　cars；　just　like　last　night。〃
　〃Interesting；〃　remarked　Ruthley。　He　puffed　at　his　cigar；　then　reached　for　a　box　and　offered　a　smoke　to　Borman。　Then　he　asked：　〃Did　the　Flying　Squadron　take　care　of　the　troublemaker？〃
　〃They　arrived　too　late　to　get　him；〃　returned　Borman；　in　a　rueful　tone。
　〃They　had　to　fake　a　chase　after　the　thugs；　and　it　was　tough　to　bluff　it；　for　they　were　crippled　pretty　bad；　the　thugs　were。　I　thought　the　whole　game　was　going　to　be　a　cinch　when　Dunson　was　reported　in　that　trolley；　but　it　wasn't。
　〃Anyway；　Dunson　is　done　for。　The　Flying　Squadron　took　his　body　over　to　the　morgue。　I　saw　him　laid　out　there；　and　I　found　out　something　that's　worth　knowing。　Wait　until　I　show　you　the　letter　that　was　on　Dunson's　body。〃
　Borman　began　to　fumble　in　his　pockets。　Marclot　took　advantage　of　the　lull。
　〃This　will　make　trouble；〃　insisted　the　mayor。　〃Maybe　not　for　us；　but　suppose　that　public　indignation　seeks　out　Lance　Gillick？　He　is　one　of　us。　We　have　to　protect　him。〃
　〃We　shall；〃　stated。　Ruthley；　with　a　smile。　〃Quite　easily。〃
　〃But　how　can　we　laugh　off　Dunson's　charges？〃　continued　Marclot。　〃He　claimed　that　he　could　prove　corruption　in　Westford。〃
　〃I　shall　handle　the　matter；〃　returned　Ruthley；　still　smiling。　〃Quite　easily；　Marclot。〃
　Borman　had　found　the　letter。　The　police　director　was　opening　it。　The　paper　was　reddened　at　one　corner；　that　stain　had　e　from　Prescott　Dunson's　blood。
　The　fact　did　not　annoy　Borman；　he　was　too　anxious　to　divulge　the　contents　of　the　letter。
　〃This　was　from　a　man　named　Shaw；〃　he　began。　〃Evidently　the　fellow　had　written