mg.dictatorofcrime-第10章
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Margo nodded earnestly。 She liked the theory。 However； the most important point remained unexplained。
〃Why should Nayre go back to Centralba？〃 queried Margo。 〃Any danger from Durez would certainly be less than the menace of Castenago。〃
This time； Cranston really smiled。
〃You said that Brady wasn't surprised to see you；〃 he told Margo。
〃Apparently； he took it for granted that Nayre would have a girl helping him to escape。 Even a girl in a bathing costume didn't faze Brady。 Yet Nayre would have to be a very persuasive chap； to convince a young lady to aid his flight at such short notice。〃
〃Why； yes。 But…〃
〃But Nayre wasn't at all intrigued by the situation。 You thought he was woman proof。 No wonder！ If he'd admired you； as you deserved； he could have put away his gun and relied on his own personality； and the moonlight； to convince you that you ought to help him。 Therefore； paring the Nayre that Brady knew with the Nayre you met； we must assume…〃
〃That Nayre is in love！〃 exclaimed Margo； as Cranston purposely paused。
〃Gone pletely ga…ga over some girl in Centralba！ That explains why he's gone back there！〃
There was a nod from Cranston。
〃Precisely；〃 he said。 〃Having settled the problem of Colin Nayre； I can now consider the case of Murk Wessel。 Having met him three times； I might very well help the hunt for him。 Sorry； Margo。 It looks like New York for me。〃
Margo couldn't withhold her disappointment。
〃You talked of an air cruise down to Rio； Lamont。 That's why I was here in Miami； to begin with。〃
〃I know。 The cruise starts tomorrow。 You'd better take it； Margo。 You'll
like the crowd； and the pilot； too。 His name is Kent Allard。 Quite a celebrated flier； I forget what it was that made him famous； but he is。 You'll hear from him。〃
CRANSTON was gone； and Margo； standing in the gathering dusk； felt very much alone。 She wished she'd said she wouldn't take the cruise； but it was too late； now； to change her mind。 By now； Lamont was speeding to the airport in a cab； and Margo knew his ship was ready for an immediate take…off。
All she could do was stand and watch from the rail of the high roof。
Darkness had settled； a half hour later； when she saw two lights rise to the northwest and blink a signal from above the airport。 Then those lights were dwindling to the north。
Their flash had been Lamont's parting signal。 He knew that Margo would be watching for it。
It hurt； parting with a friend like Cranston。 The darkened waters of Biscayne Bay reflected the lights from the Venetian Way with a dewy dance； when Margo looked in that direction。 It couldn't be the waves that blurred the mirrored lights； for there were none。 The trouble was that Margo's eyes were just about as dry as the bay itself。
From a table secluded among the palms that sprinkled the hotel roof； a guest who had just arrived looked across and saw Margo gazing over the rail。
His face was different from Cranston's； but his lips phrased the same low whispered laugh； a tone that belonged to The Shadow。
Those blinking lights had marked the departure of Cranston's plane； under the control of a hired pilot。 The Shadow； himself； had returned； for his future course lay southward； not to the north。 Margo Lane wasn't going to find herself without a friend when she took the air cruise； tomorrow。
As happened often； The Shadow's theory regarding the whereabouts of a missing criminal was as at direct variance with that held by the law。 He still intended to look for Murk Wessel； but in the last place where anyone would expect to find the missing murderer！
CHAPTER VIII
FORCED LANDING
MARGO LANE liked Kent Allard； as did the other members of the cruise party。 It didn't take her long to find out why the pilot of their deluxe plane was celebrated。
Several years ago； Allard had started on a nonstop flight to South America； only to disappear from civilized ken。 He had reappeared after a few year's absence； in pany with some Guatemalan Indians of the almost forgotten Xinca tribe。
Having landed in their midst； Allard had bee the ruler of the Indians； and the departure of their white chief had been a cause of sorrow to the entire tribe。
It didn't occur to Margo that Allard could have been in America； particularly New York City； during the years when he had reputedly been among the Xincas； yet such was the actual case。 The reason； too； was as definite as the fact itself。
Kent Allard was The Shadow。
To hide pletely his identity from crimeland； he had pretended to disappear； before beginning open war upon the rulers of the underworld。 Of course； as The Shadow； he had found it necessary to appear in public； so he had adopted the guise of Lamont Cranston。
Day in； day out； The Shadow posed as Cranston； and had almost e to regard the name and personality as part of himself。 As Cranston； he could meet his various secret agents； among them Margo Lane； without necessarily hiding the fact that he was also The Shadow。
Should they be forced； under unexpected pressure； to declare that Cranston was The Shadow； he could simply drop that personality forever and keep his enemies hunting him until doomsday。 Doomsday； in their case； would be translated by what would probably happen to them if The Shadow caught up with them while they were on the hunt for Cranston； the man they could never find。
There were times； rare indeed； when The Shadow did drop the guise of Cranston and bee himself： Kent Allard。
This was one of those times。
The Shadow wanted to go to Centralba。 He couldn't very well go as Cranston。 The gatomontes； or secret police who served as Castenago's private organization； were very suspicious of all wealthy Americans who visited Centralba。
About all that such visitors could do would be to buy up concessions which had been sold to half a dozen others。 Through various technicalities； all such concessions； together with the purchase money； became the eventual property of Luis Castenago。
Meanwhile； the gatomontes kept 〃protecting〃 the visiting Americans； to such a degree that they were glad to get out of Centralba； regardless of financial loss。
In his way； Luis Castenago made such big…time confidence men as Murk Wessel look like very small children who hadn't been broken of the habit of swiping pennies off stacks of newspapers。 So； to meet Castenago properly； The Shadow was choosing a unique mode of entry into Centralba。
He was going there as Kent Allard； and because Margo Lane would probably escape suspicion； he was taking her along as an unwitting helper。
LIKE a great bowl of bluish chalcedony； the Caribbean Sea lay beneath the speeding wings of Allard's cruise plane。 Other members of the party； half a dozen in all； were chatting about the fog…tinged weather； while Margo Lane was watching the pilot。
In one of those vague ways； which couldn't be explained； Kent Allard reminded Margo of Lamont Cranston。 When she tried to reason out the resemblance； Margo decided； smilingly； that it was because the two were so different。
Allard's face was thinner than Cranston's； in a sense； it was almost gaunt。 His eyes were set； rather than steady。 His motions； though deliberate； were done with a precision； whereas Cranston's were leisurely to the point of indolence。
It seemed that Allard must have acquired his manner from association with the Xinca Indians； just as Cranston had learned a placid philosophy from the lamas of Tibet。 Those things became ingrown with a man who experienced them。
Margo didn't begin to realize that one background could be dropped at will； and the other taken up。 Few people could have done it； however； though The Shadow did。
He'd found； though； that people would pare Allard with Cranston； as Margo was doing at present。 It didn't matter； because the longer the parison continued； the more they would argue themselves into deciding that the two were different。
The thing that served The Shadow best was his ability to render each character unique。 No two things can be unique and at the same time alike。 Thus； Allard and Cranston； twinned at first impr
