The Avenger 7 - Stockholders in Death (21 page)

A few hours ago it had seemed that failure for once was tapping the shoulder of The Avenger. Now all that was changed—and the whole case neatly disposed of.

Except, in Tom Crimm’s estimation, for Tom Crimm himself!

“How about me, Mr. Benson? I’ve been a fool—worse than a fool! I was in a bank holdup. I’m wanted for murder. I resisted arrest with a gun at the garage—”

“We have a good deal of front-page credit for the police department aboard,” said Benson quietly. “I think the commissioner will be willing to trade: a dropped charge against you in exchange for two gangs and a dead murderer.”

Tom sighed deeply, raggedly, with relief. Then he faced the girl with the veil. He had been looking at her all along with an expression in his eyes that brought one of amusement to Nellie’s.

“You saved me from a police slug or the chair, at that bank,” Tom said softly to the girl. “And you’ve helped all of us besides that. Won’t you take off the veil? Show us who you are?”

The girl shook her head agitatedly and started to move quickly away. The Avenger’s eyes swung to her, gentle for once.

“Go on,” Benson said. “Take off the veil. You’ve got your brother’s certain imprisonment to worry about in a little while. You’ll need a friend—or more than a friend—such as Tom would like to be.”

“Her brother—” gasped Tom.

“Yes. Nick Luckow!” said The Avenger. “The tint and texture of her nail polish gives her away. You can see that whether or not she wears a veil.”

The girl had the veil off, now. She had eyes only for Tom.

“I never really shared Nick’s activities,” she said, in a low, pleading tone. “I’ll admit I didn’t move to stop any of them, though—till you came along. I . . . I kind of liked you. I heard the things they meant to do to you, and helped a little. The last time was when I heard Nick phone for the gang to go to Wallach’s house after Mr. Benson. I hurried there first and got in that car to wait and see if I could help. But I guess a man like Mr. Benson doesn’t need help. And I guess it doesn’t make much difference anyway—when you’re a gangster’s sister—”

Tom caught her arm and urged her toward the bow, where they could have a little privacy.

“If a gangster’s sister can stand a bank robber,” the rest heard him say, “I guess—”

They were out of earshot then. The Avenger watched them for a moment, then turned abruptly and strode farther aft. Over the stern, from down the river, a police boat could be seen speeding in answer to Mac’s call.

Nellie Gray’s eyes were luminous with compassion as they rested on the chief’s erect, lonely figure.

Others, he could help. Himself, never. There was nothing left in life for The Avenger but the annihilation of crooked gangs like these, and grim battle against crime to avenge the death of his own loved ones.

T
HE
E
ND