mg.cyro-第23章
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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