The Avenger 7 - Stockholders in Death Read Online Free

is too big for the regular channels of justice. And that is why Tom, my brother, went to Luckow.”
    Smitty and Josh started a little. Benson’s pale, infallible eyes suddenly were like chips of stainless steel in his paralyzed countenance.
    “Your brother went to Luckow? You mean Nick Luckow?” he said vibrantly.
    “Yes! Tom said Dad’s fife and the securities had been taken by violence, and that he’d have revenge the same way. So he has thrown in with the most notorious gang in the country.”
    “He’ll get small comfort there,” observed Josh softly. The Negro was a philosopher. “Milk does not come from stones, nor honest help from rotten crutches.”
    The Avenger was not talking. He was on his feet, going toward the door.
    “We’ve got to get your brother away from Luckow, first thing,” he said, voice quiet but packed with power. “When honest folk tangle with criminals—”
    He did not complete the sentence. But Nellie Gray, with a world of sympathy in her lovely blue eyes, could have completed it.
    When honest folk tangle with criminals—great tragedy results. If any man on earth was in a position to know that, it was Dick Benson.
    “You are going after Tom—in that nest of killers—alone?” gasped Wayne.
    “Yes! He can’t be allowed to stay with Luckow,” Benson said, his eyes flaring. “I can foresee all sorts of trouble if that is permitted.”
    “Probably he’ll be home by now,” faltered Wayne.
    “No! He’ll be at Luckow’s. He could be very valuable to the man. Nick Luckow is smart, in his animal way. He won’t let your brother out of his sight if he can help it.”
    “But—going alone!” said Wayne.
    The giant Smitty was as concerned as Wayne. But Smitty said nothing. If the chief was determined to go alone, nothing could be said that would sway him.
    “If I went there with help,” said Benson, “there might be trouble. If I go alone, they will think me harmless.”
    Josh snorted a little at that. The idea of any man being able to look at The Avenger—with his dead, white face and terrible, pale eyes—and think him harmless, was almost funny.
    But there was nothing funny about Benson’s actions. They were suicidal. Josh and Smitty knew that. And even Wayne suspected it.
    Everyone seemed to know it but Benson, himself. He treated it as a matter of course.

    When he got out of his car in front of the notorious Jeff Hotel a few minutes later, there was almost a smile in his cold, colorless eyes.
    Benson walked clamly and unhurriedly into the lobby of the hotel. The desk clerk turned his inquiring weasel eyes on him, and clenched his hands suddenly. That death-mask of a face! The icy, pale eyes! Thev clerk was only on the fringe of the underworld, but he knew this man by sight.
    His hand stealthily slid under the edge of the counter and pressed something. The Avenger saw the move and knew it was a warning to those upstairs.
    Trouble! Danger in the lobby!
    Benson walked past the desk, not seeming to move fast, yet getting to the elevators in an incredibly short time.
    The three men who habitually lounged in the lobby were all starting for him, now. One had his gun halfway out. The Avenger slid into the cage waiting at the lobby floor, and closed the metal doors with a jerk at the lever.
    “Hey—” began the rat-eyed boy at the controls.
    He stopped as the pale and awful eyes bored into his own.
    “Luckow’s floor,” The Avenger said to the elevator operator.
    “It’s f-five,” said the boy.
    He stopped. There was something about the icy glare in those eyes that robbed his will of the ability to lie. Anyhow, Luckow had enough rodmen around to take care of any one man—even one like this. So he didn’t see why he should risk his skin to conceal the floor on which the mob leader had his office.
    “Two!” he corrected himself, sending the cage upward as he spoke.
    He was almost smiling when he opened the elevator door on the second floor. Luckow’s men would take