It had taken him two weeks to grow the half-inch beard he wore. Madeleine wasn't sure that she liked it; it irritated her face and inner thighs, she told him, but she liked to feel its furry softness with her hands. He really gave little thought to her reactions; its purpose was not only a matter of disguise, but a more fitting admittance ticket to such places as Mother Turtle's and the other swinging spots where he had learned that the "czar's" daughter hung out. In fact, he'd learned a hell of a lot in the last couple of weeks, thanks to Madeleine's bank balance and his own ingenuity. For instance, even before he was familiar with her appearance, he had managed to obtain enough information regarding Annette Larreau's likes and dislikes, personal habits and companions to know that she was a little rebel who hated her powerful papa and all he stood for, the odd-ball variety.
A good example was the scrawny, hollow-chested male with the page-boy hair style sitting across the table from her at the moment. He was named Armand Nicolet of the multi-buck steel family, a playboy by trade… a hype and pansy by desire and whatever the hell his magnetism was it certainly couldn't be physical, yet, he, Shannon, had turned up a rumor concerning their impending marriage.
It didn't make sense, a stunningly attractive girl of her standing marrying a spindly, hooked queer, but then, the longer he lived and the more he saw of the human race, the less he understood it; besides, it wasn't going to make any difference one way or the other. With what he had in mind that marriage was going to be postponed… at least, for awhile…
A lantern-faced individual accompanied by another of the bull-necked, barrel-chested type, both in dark suits and dark turtle-neck shirts, caught Shannon's attention as they slunk into the cellar-room through the grotto-like doorway, abruptly interrupting his immediate thoughts. Their hoodish air definitely eliminated them as belonging, and when their eyes fell upon, and stared fixedly at Annette Larreau and her dainty companion, Shannon could almost feel their reason for being there, as well as guess who might have sent them. He sensed blood and swallowed tightly.
Armand Nicolet evidently perceived it also, for he paled noticeably. He leaned forward, whispering to the girl across from him who sat with her back toward the two. She took his hand, her knuckles whitening, started to turn but evidently thought better of it. The thin little man whispered again, his fright obvious, then arose quickly and made toward the rear entrance. The two hoods seeing his move started after him just as Annette stood to block their way, while simultaneously the Great Dane came erect to bare its teeth at their hasty, if, belligerent approach.
"What the hell!" the bull-necked one snarled, stopping dead before the menacing, bare-fanged growl of the massive animal. Automatically, his hand shot inside his coat, fumbling for the weapon there. Lantern-jaw had dodged around a table to charge after the escaping Nicolet and might have caught him if Shannon hadn't stuck out his foot to trip the gangly one and send him sprawling forward onto his face.
From that point, there was ample commotion, with patrons shuffling and scampering for the sidelines as Bullneck leveled the ugly looking gun in his hand on the Great Dane. Annette screamed and Shannon leaped, throwing all of his weight onto the big man and forcing the bullet to go wild. They went down with Shannon on the other's back, the bull-necked one's chin catching on the edge of a chair with enough force to stun him momentarily. Quickly, Shannon got to his feet, grabbed Annette by the hand and started for the front entrance.
"Come on! Let's get out of here… and tell your dog I'm a friend! I don't like the way he's looking at me!" he snapped, pulling her along behind him up the stairs, two at a time, to the street. "You have a car?"
"Around the corner… but what about Armand? They'll kill him if they catch him…!"
"Let's hope they don't catch him, baby… In the meantime, I don't think they like me either. Let's go!"
Shannon took the wheel and they were out of the area in minutes. He kept to the back streets, moving in no particular direction, except further away from the shabby section where the two hoods would be undoubtedly canvassing with blood and rage warping their brains. After awhile, he said: "Your father evidently doesn't like Nicolet."
He felt her eyes on him. She sat in the middle with the dog she had called Launcelot, on her right by the window. She said: "Do you know my father?"
"I know who he is and who you are," he replied, his eyes fixed ahead.
For a moment she was quiet, then: "Why did you help? You could've been shot."
"I don't like hoods who shoot dogs," he said, easing around a corner onto a well lighted street. It was Sherbrooke East and they were headed west.
"We both owe you a debt for helping us… Launcelot and I," she said slipping her arm around the animal's neck. "Do you think Armand got away?"
"I'd say that depends how resourceful he is. He certainly had time enough."
"Well…" she said, pausing momentarily. "I suppose it won't make much difference anyway, knowing my father. They'll find him sooner or later… poor Armand."
Shannon made a little grunting sound. He couldn't get up any pity for the scrawny queer. Nevertheless, he said: "I doubt if they intend to do more than rough him up a little. Even Gaston Larreau can't go around having men knocked off just because they want to marry his daughter."
Again, he felt her eyes on him; it was progressing nicely, he thought.
"How do you know that?" she asked. "I mean, about Armand and me getting married?"
"Rumors."
"What else do you know about me?"
"That you've been on and off 'H' for the last week… and that young frilly fruit's been supplying you." He turned toward her. "Are you hooked?"
She hesitated. "No… that is, I don't think so."
"How long since you've had a fix?"
"Yesterday morning… say, who in hell are you, anyway? How do you know so much about me?"
"You can call me Shannon," he replied evenly. "As for the second question… I've been doing a little inquiring."
"Inquiring…? Why?" There was an edge to her tone now.
"You intrigue me." He smiled over at her. "Don't get upset. Nothing's going to happen to you. I've been trying to locate you for a mutual friend of ours who wants very much to see you."
"Mu-Mutual friend… of ours?" Annette said, her head tilting questioningly to one side. "I don't understand… Who is this friend?"
"Madeleine Poirier."
"Madeleine?" She sat ahead in the seat. "Do you know where she is? No one has seen her since Antoine went to prison…"
"That's where we're going, Ma'm'selle." Once more, he smiled in her direction, his most fetching, disarming expression. "Just relax. It's going to take us awhile to get there. All right with you?"
"Yes… yes, of course," she replied anxiously.
"Madeleine and I were always close. My God, I can't think of anyone I'd rather see… I've been so afraid that something terrible might have happened to her… like it did to Ginny Novak…"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Madeleine was frightened; she couldn't help it. By day, the island was beautiful, but at night it was so terribly dark and lonesome with Shannon gone, and the foreign, eerie sounds caused little chills to run along her spine. Even in the luxury of the big house with every light in the place burning she was still on edge, and had been since he'd taken the launch to the mainland just before sunset. Nervously, she glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty; he'd told her to expect him shortly after midnight if everything went well according to plan. God…! Supposing it hadn't? What would she do?