Durgan nodded slowly. “And your job is to fix him so he won’t make trouble — unless it’s trouble to the morgue keeper. I’ll back you with plenty dough, with anything from pea-shooters to pineapples. If you need real gorillas — not cripples like Waldron had — I’ve got them, too!”
“I’ll need ‘em all right,” retorted Shires. “I’ll need ‘em because I know who we’re up against! But even he can be handled, and I’m the guy who can do it. Probably the only guy in this burg who has the brains and the guts to run the scheme through.
“Say, Durgan, it’ll be worth more than a grand a week when I bring this guy to you — harmless as a dead toad!” Shires laughed. “Why, from now on his life isn’t worth a Mex nickel — if I’m helping you!”
Durgan nodded, then jerked erect, startled at Shires’s next words.
“Because the guy that’s making all the trouble is” — Ernie Shires paused impressively before he added the name — “The Shadow!”
SHIRES stared at Durgan closely. For a moment he anticipated that his statement would be received with the same contempt that Tim Waldron had exhibited.
But when Shires had figured Durgan as a man of cunning, he had not missed his mark. The evil-faced racketeer was sober.
“The Shadow!” he repeated.
Ernie Shires nodded.
“You’re sure of it?” questioned Durgan seriously.