mg.cyro-第23部分

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　　Rogues　of　the　Latin　Quarter　had　been　eliminated。　Lieutenant　Wayson　was　examining　dead　faces。　Police　were　arriving　from　the　street；　to　back　his　belief　that　these　were　merely　riffraff　of　New　Orleans。　Not　even　Joe　Cardona　was　ready　with　the　theory　that　they　might　be　imported　killers。
　　But　Joe　did　have　the　hunch　that　these　dead　Apaches　were　minions　of　Cyro。
　　If　so；　The　Shadow；　too；　was　on　the　master　swindler's　trail。　Grimly；　Joe　Cardona　could　see　that　success　might　lay　ahead。　The　star　detective　was　set　to　remain　in　New　Orleans。
　　
　　　CHAPTER　XVI　
　　　THE　SHADOW'S　TRAIL　
　　RAOUL　BRILLIARD　had　termed　his　Apaches　〃rats。〃　Like　rats　they　had　skulked　in　darkness；　like　rats　they　had　fought　and　died。　One　alone　remained。　A　human　rodent；　seeking　security；　this　squint…eyed　ruffian　had　taken　to　a　hole。
　　Clear　of　Debeq's　courtyard；　the　survivor　had　picked　an　obscure　passage　between　two　buildings。　He　was　scurrying　along　it；　stopping　to　breathe　hard　and　listen　for　sounds　of　approaching　police。　He　came　to　a　fence。　Cautiously；　the　Apache　clambered　over　the　barrier　to　a　courtyard　on　the　other　side。
　　He　thought　that　he　had　left　an　empty　passage　behind　him。　He　was　wrong。　A　follower　had　e　along　his　trail。　Unseen；　unheard；　The　Shadow　had　taken　up　the　course　set　by　the　lone　survivor　of　the　Parisian　mob。
　　This　Apache　had　learned　the　ins　and　outs　of　New　Orleans。　He　was　as　familiar　with　this　Latin　Quarter　as　with　the　streets　of　his　native　Montmartre；　a　fact　which　he　demonstrated　as　he　proceeded。　Ratlike；　he　uncovered　inconspicuous　spots　that　led　from　alleyways。　He　threaded　a　mazelike　course　through　the　streets　of　the　Vieux　Carre。
　　Hunched　in　his　nervous；　shuffling　gait；　the　Apache　avoided　lighted　byways。
　　The　French　Quarter　had　been　aroused。　Policemen　and　alert　detectives　were　converging　upon　the　area　close　to　Debeq's。　But　none　of　these　representatives　of　the　law　spied　the　slouching　Apache　in　his　circuitous　flight。　The　man　was　too　quick　when　he　ducked　for　cover。
　　The　Apache；　however；　had　forgotten　the　weak　point　of　his　tortuous　flight。
　　He　did　not　realize　that　his　own　penchant　for　dark　spots　would　serve　a　pursuer　who　could　manage　the　same　tactics。　It　was　not　surprising　that　the　rogue　should　neglect　to　consider　that　factor。
　　In　New　Orleans；　as　in　Paris；　this　Apache　was　confident　that　no　trailing　person　could　match　his　skill　at　lurking。　Police　and　detectives　were　like　gendarmes…easily　dodged；　easily　spied　if　they　tried　to　find　cover　for　themselves。　The　quick　glances　that　the　man　shot　over　his　hunched　shoulders　were　sufficient　proof…to　him…that　no　one　was　on　his　trail。
　　The　Apache　had　never　heard　of　The　Shadow。　He　did　not　know　that　the　enemy　who　had　sprung　down　from　the　balcony　was　a　master　at　the　art　of　pursuit。　Every　time　the　Apache　dug　into　a　sheltering　cover；　The　Shadow；　close　behind；　found　one　that　suited　him　as　well。
　　
　　REACHING　the　end　of　a　tiny　alleyway；　the　Apache　opened　a　door　and　sidled　into　the　back　room　of　a　grog　shop。　With　the　shuffle　of　a　soft…shoe　dancer；　he　ascended　a　flight　of　darkened　stairs。
　　Scarcely　had　he　gone　from　view　before　the　lower　door　opened　and　a　blackened　shape　entered　the　deserted　room。　For　a　brief　second；　The　Shadow　appeared　in　cloak　and　slouch　hat；　then　he　merged　with　the　darkness　of　the　stairway。
　　The　Apache　arrived　upon　a　balcony。　A　police　car　was　rolling　along　the　street　below。　The　Apache　watched　it　through　the　rail。　While　the　rogue　gazed；　blackness　loomed　in　the　opened　doorway　behind　him。　The　Shadow　was　within　two　yards　of　the　foe　whom　he　had　spared。
　　Moving　along　the　balcony；　the　Apache　climbed　a　rail　that　separated　the　balcony　from　that　of　the　next　house。　He　huddled　into　a　doorway。　The　Shadow　saw　him　and　glided　along　the　same　path。　Reaching　the　adjoining　house；　The　Shadow　spied　a　dim　stairway　that　the　Apache　had　taken。　The　Shadow　followed　swiftly。
　　The　trail　led　downstairs　and　out　through　a　courtyard　to　a　rear　street。
　　Reaching　that　point；　The　Shadow　peered　from　the　doorway　and　spied　the　Apache　entering　an　alley　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　street。　A　blackened　form；　dim　between　the　glow　of　two　antique　lamp…posts；　The　Shadow　glided　forth　and　resumed　the　course。
　　The　end　of　the　trail　was　close。　The　Apache　proved　it　by　his　actions　on　the　next　street。　His　slouching　gait　ended。　He　became　a　chance　stroller　who　would　have　passed　as　an　ordinary　denizen　of　the　French　Quarter。　In　casual　fashion；　the　rogue　entered　a　doorway　and　disappeared　from　view。
　　The　Shadow　followed。　He　joined　the　blackness　of　the　entrance；　then　moved　through。　He　found　himself　in　a　typical　Frenchtown　courtyard。　Above　were　balconies。　The　Apache　had　gone　up　a　flight　of　stairs；　he　was　knocking　lightly　at　a　doorway。
　　Moving　inward；　The　Shadow　reached　a　dull…stuccoed　pillar　which　showed　faintly　in　the　semidarkness。　Gripping　thick　vines　that　twisted　snakelike　across　the　pillar；　The　Shadow　drew　himself　silently　up　to　the　balcony。　As　he　reached　the　rail；　he　caught　a　glimmer　of　light。　A　door　opened；　the　Apache　stepped　through。　The　door　closed。
　　Close　by　was　a　shuttered　window。　A　faint　gleam　shone　from　its　slats。　The　Shadow　drew　the　shutter　toward　him　and　entered　a　room　by　means　of　an　opened　window。　The　slight　light　showed　a　bedroom；　beyond　was　a　door　through　which　the　illumination　came；　for　the　barrier　was　ajar。
　　The　Shadow　glided　softly　across　the　floor。　He　peered　through　the　crack　of　the　door。　He　could　hear　the　tones　of　a　voice　talking　French　in　the　street　jargon　of　Paris。　He　viewed　the　squint…eyed　Apache；　talking　to　a　bearded　man　who　wore　smock　and　beret。　The　scene　was　a　lighted　studio。
　　The　Shadow　was　in　the　abode　of　Raoul　Brilliard。
　　
　　As　proof　that　he　had　found　the　spot　where　crime　had　been　fostered；　The　Shadow　viewed　a　third　man　present。　Tracy　Lence　was　seated　in　a　corner　of　the　studio；　puzzled　by　the　conversation　which　was　passing　between　the　Apache　and　Brilliard。
　　The　Shadow　understood　the　jargon；　but　Lence　did　not。　The　Apache　spoke　with　many　gesticulations。　He　imitated　the　thrusts　of　knives；　the　motions　of　revolver　fire；　the　action　of　someone　leaping　from　a　high　spot。　When　he　had　finished；　the　man　leered　and　drew　a　wad　of　tobacco　from　his　pocket。　He　twisted　off　a　corner；　half…tossed　it　in　his　mouth　and　began　to　chew　while　he　listened　to　Brilliard　speak。
　　Short　responses　were　all　that　the　Apache　made。　He　snarled　them　while　he　chewed。　〃Oui。。。　Oui。。。　Non。。。〃　Yes　and　no　were　his　intermittent　responses。　He　waited　when　Brilliard　was　through　questioning　him。　Then　the　artist　said：
　　〃Allez；　Tabac。〃
　　The　Apache　departed　by　the　outer　door　of　the　studio。
　　The　Shadow　remained　watching　from　the　inner　room。　This　was　the　reason　why　he　had　spared　the　life　of　the　lone　Apache。　He　had　divined　that　the　fellow　would　weave　a　trail　back　to　the　man　who　had　ordered　the　Parisian　band　on　its　mission　of　death。
　　〃Something　went　wrong？〃　Tracy　Lence　put　the　question　anxiously；　after　the　Apache　had　left。
　　〃Yes；〃　replied　Brilliard。　〃This　fellow…Tabac　they　call　him；　because　of　his　chewing　habit…came　here　to　tell　me　the　bad　news。　My　Apaches　have　been　wiped　out。〃
　　〃What！　By　Cardona？〃
　　〃By　Cardona　and　that　sharpshooter；　Wayson。　The　one　man　on　the　whole　New　Orleans　force　who　could　have　put　up　so　powerful　a　fight。　Tabac　says　there　was　another…probably　a　friend　of　Debeq's…who　entered　the　fray　from　a　balcony。〃
　　〃Why　did　Tabac　e　here？　He　might　have　been　followed。　Are　you　sure　that　no　one…〃
　　〃You　can't　trail　an　Apache；〃　interrupted　Brilliard。　〃He　has　been　in　New　Orleans　long　enough　to　learn　the　ground。　He　knows　this　Quarter　perfectly。　He　will　go　into　hiding。　The　police　will　not　find　him。〃
　　〃But　the　other　Apaches…〃
　　〃Are　dead。　They　will　pass　for　natives　of　Frenchtown；　riffraff　gone　berserk。　Robbing　Debeq；　ready　to　kill　when　balked。　That　was　the　way　I　planned　it；　after　receiving　orders　from　Cyro；　yesterday。〃
　　〃By　telephone　at　Thibault's？〃
　　Brilliard　did　not　reply。　He　was　thinking　of　tonight's　episode。　He　resumed　his　ment。
　　
　　〃APACHES　spotted　Cardona　and　Wayson　early　in　the　evening。　They　picked　Debeq's　house　as　the　best　spot　for　their　trap。　One　went　in　and　told　Wayson　Debeq　wanted　to　see　him。　Apparently；　Wayson　fell　for　it；　thinking