The Shadow had divined that fact tonight.
CHAPTER XII
CONVICT 9648
TEN years in the State penitentiary. One month past — one hundred and nineteen yet to come!
This was the thought that confronted Herbert Carpenter, once gentleman of leisure — and blackmail — now Convict 9648.
Justice had worked swiftly in the case of Herbert Carpenter. He had taken the rap, with a plea of guilty. He had gone to prison penniless. When he had joined Wheels Bryant’s crime group, he had needed funds. All of his profits had gone to the big shot since that time.
Herbert Carpenter had much to think about now. Certain suicides at the Hotel Pavilion — they had been of his making. Men whom he had despoiled of funds had taken their lives in desperation.
Gloomily, Carpenter, within his cell, pictured Seaview City. He could hear the surf roaring on the beach; he caught the din of the Club Catalina; the click of the ball on the roulette wheel.
Then his mind turned to his wife and children. At least they were secure. They could not be happy — particularly Madge, who knew the truth, even if the youngsters did not — but at least they were not in want.
Parole — time off for good behavior — these were the only rays of hope that gleamed for Herbert Carpenter. Both of these possibilities belonged to the distant future. There would be many long months of stern routine before such could come to pass.