A soft laugh in the darkness of the compartment. A scarcely audible whisper; yet that strange, suppressed mirth pronounced the identity of the scientific eavesdropper.
This personage who had taken interest in the affairs of the passengers from Dupaw was none other than The Shadow. Master hunter who investigated crime, The Shadow was aboard the Eastern Limited, seeking new knowledge that might aid him in his ceaseless quests.
CHAPTER II. BACK TO LIFE
WITHIN the drawing-room of Car G 3, two men were engaged in conversation. These men had been muffled with overcoats when they had come aboard the limited. At present they were in shirtsleeves. One was perched upon the edge of the lower berth; the other was seated on the benchlike couch.
The man on the edge of the berth was a smiling, light-complexioned chap about thirty years of age. His face was friendly, but flexible. Behind the smile lay a touch of natural shrewdness. His eyes carried a convincing sparkle.
The man on the couch was older. Forty would have been a good estimate of his age. He was dark-complexioned and his eyes showed a brooding look. His countenance, moreover, was dour — at moments, almost sullen.
Circumstances had brought these two together; those same circumstances had maintained their companionship. The younger, smiling man was Jack Targon, erstwhile swindler de luxe. The older, dour chap was Steve Zurk, former bank robber.
Pardoned by the governor, the two were riding, unwatched and unattended, toward New York. For the first time since they had met within prison walls, they were unharried by the law. Two convicts had come back to life, with the prospect of a crimeless future straight ahead.
“Buck up, Steve,” Targon was chuckling. “Can’t you get it through your noodle? We’re in the clear. Out of the big house. The world is ours!”
“Yours, maybe,” growled Zurk. “But maybe it won’t be mine. That’s why I’m worrying.”
“Why worry, Steve? You always said that you’d go straight if you had the chance. You’ve got it now. Say — that governor is a prince, the way he treated us.”
“He’s a square-shooter, all right.”
“And this fellow Delhugh, that we’re going to in New York. He must be another regular. Going to stake us, fix us up with good connections. What more do you want, Steve?”
“It’s not the future that worries me, Jack. It’s the past. That’s what you can’t see.”
“Nobody’s going to toss it up at us.”
Steve shifted uneasily and grunted from his couch. Jack watched him with troubled eyes. At last the older man leaned back. Propping himself to suit the motion of the train, he began a troubled explanation.
“You played a lone hand, Jack,” he declared. “Con games, phony checks, all that smooth sort of stuff. It was in your line.”
“No longer, Steve.”
“I understand that, Jack. You’ll go straight. It’s in you. A man can chuck anything that he has a mind to.”
“Which makes it easy for you, like me.”
“Not quite as easy. I was a tough mug, Steve. There are a lot of my sort who traveled with me.”
“Like Beak Latzo?”
“Yeah.”
There was a dejected growl in Steve’s tone at the mention of Latzo’s name. Jack eyed his companion closely. He saw a sharp look in Steve’s gaze. Then Steve closed his eyes.
“FELLOWS like Beak Latzo,” he remarked, “can never get it through their domes that a man can decide to go straight. They’re always looking for word from pals who get out of stir.”
“So Beak will be looking for word from you?”
“Maybe. I hope not.”
Another pause. Steve opened his eyes and looked squarely at Jack. He spoke in a steady, mechanical tone.
“The bulls never knew about the team-up, Jack,” said Steve. “They knew I had pals; but they didn’t need to find out who they were. They never picked out Beak Latzo.”
“Well, if nobody knows anything about him—”
“You know about him, Jack. You know that Beak worked with me.”
“Sure I do.” Targon spoke as steadily as Zurk. “You told me a lot about Beak Latzo when we were dodging posses together. But I’m mum. I’ve forgotten it.”
“That’s good, Jack. Keep it forgotten. Because it’s going to be a tough trip for me. If Beak doesn’t hear from me, I’ll hear from him.”
“He won’t hear from you, will he?”
“Not by a long shot. But if I hear from him, it may look like he heard from me.”
“I’m beginning to get it, Steve. That is tough. But if the bulls never knew about you and Beak—”
“I told you why they didn’t know, Jack. Because they never troubled to find out. But if they started digging up the past, they would uncover it. Once they suspect a connection between me and Beak, things would be bad.”
A pause, broken only by the scratch of a match as Jack Targon lighted a cigarette. He offered a smoke to Steve Zurk, who shook his head. The older man was still solemn. A blast of the engine’s whistle stimulated his thoughts to words.
“The others don’t count, Jack,” Steve told his companion. “Beak Latzo is the only guy that’s really tough. It won’t be easy if he tries to needle me. But I’ll handle him — in my own way.
“That’s why I’m mentioning it to you. Because you know what I’m up against. If Beak Latzo begins to make things sour, I’ll count on you to help me out.”
“Which I will, Steve. Provided—”
“Provided what?”
“Provided that you keep on the level.”
An angry growl from Steve. Jack silenced it with a prompt remark, as he reached over and clapped his hand on his pal’s shoulder.
“You could say the same to me, Steve,” came Jack Targon’s statement. “I’m all for you if you play straight. I want you to feel the same about me. We’re going back into life; we’ve each got the chance we want. But it’s up to each of us to be on the level.”
“All right, Jack,” grunted Steve. “But you know I’ve always been a square-shooter. There was no reason to suggest that I might be going to pull something phony.”
“You’ve been square with me, Steve. But that was when both of us had to buck the world. Now we’ve got the world with us. It’s a different slant — that’s all.”
“I’ve figured that. I’m all for it. I told the governor so and I meant it. No more stick-ups and bank jobs for me. I’m out of that line, Jack.”
“And I’m through with my old business. I wouldn’t sell a guy a gold brick if he asked for it, Steve. Shakedowns, bum checks — all that stuff is forgotten. When I sign any name from now on, it will be my own.”
JACK TARGON reached up, grabbed the edge of the upper berth and hoisted himself to the shelflike bed. Propped on one elbow, he grinned down at Steve Zurk.
“Better than the night we rode this line behind baggage,” he commented. “Eh, Steve? Remember the storm that night? And the shack we found to sleep in after we dropped off the limited?”
Steve nodded.
“We’re in prime luck right now, Steve,” went on Jack. He was propped up against the pillows, finishing his cigarette. “We both have brains enough to make the most of it. This is a great situation. The two of us clear for the first time since we met.
“I couldn’t chin with you, Steve, while those deputies were bringing us over to Dupaw. I was looking forward to this chat. You’ve spoiled it a bit, though, acting glum the way you are. You didn’t worry about Beak Latzo when we were palling around after those jail breaks.”
“No need to worry about him then,” snorted Steve. “I could have used him if he’d been around. But now I don’t want him on my neck. Nor any of the others.”