"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 063 - Murder Marsh" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Report received," came Burbank's voice. "Follow plan as given."

"Instructions received."

When Cliff Marsland left the drug store, he took a side street. He was heading for an alleyway in back of
the Hotel Spartan. There he could be in readiness for what might follow. For Cliff had performed his
secret dutyтАФone that was sure to produce results. Through Burbank, Cliff Marsland had reported to
The Shadow.

Unknown to associates in the underworld, Cliff Marsland was an agent of the mysterious master whose
power was feared by men of evil. Scourge of the badlands, The Shadow, strange being of the night, was
ever ready to battle against fiends of crime. His black-gloved finger seemed to feel the pulse-throbs of
trouble in the underworld. His secret records held the names of criminals whose affairs needed watching.
Cliff Marsland's report had proven that one of these was Luke Zoman.

CLIFF had made a good conjecture when he had picked the muffled man as Luke Zoman. Up in Room
306, the arrival had removed his coat and hat. In the light of a dingy room, his features showed a pug
nose and a scarred cheek. These and his bloated, puffy lips marked him as the man The Shadow
wanted.

Seated with Luke Zoman was a shrewd, rat-faced fellow: "Squeezer" Dyson. Crafty worker of crime,
Squeezer made his headquarters at the Hotel Spartan. He was a crook who had mobsters at his bidding.
He was also one whose cleverness in cooking up alibis had kept him square with the law.

"You look kind of scared, Squeezer," Luke Zoman was commenting. "Maybe you don't like it because I
dropped in here. You wasn't that way in the old days, Squeezer."

"Maybe not," agreed Squeezer, gruffly. "But I've learned plenty, Luke, since you went up to the big
house. It ain't a bad idea to stand in with the bulls. That's the way I play it nowadays."

"I get you. A guy like meтАФjust out of stirтАФain't a welcome visitor. Well, don't get cold feet, Squeezer. I
didn't come down here with no brass band. There wasn't nobody saw me except some of those mugs in
the lobby. I figured they was all right."

"They ought to be, Luke. Some of them belong to my mob. The rest of the boys are in rooms on this
floor. I don't take no chances, Luke. If any phony guys was down in that lobby, some of my mob would
have tipped me off."

"You got a mob, eh?" Luke chuckled. "Different from six years ago, when I took my trip up the river.
That's great, Squeezer. You're just the bird I want to see."

"Yeah?" Squeezer shifted uneasily. "Whatta you figuring on pulling, Luke?"

"You know." Luke rose to his feet and stalked across the room. "There's a bimbo I'm going to getтАФand
I need a pack of gorillas to do it."

"Judge Claris?"

"Yeah. Judge Claris." Luke snarled the name with venom. "He put me in stir and he's going to pay for it.
Him and anybody that happens to be around. I want a mob that's ready to back me upтАФgorillas who