"William G Bogart - Killer 'Round The Bend" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bogart William G)

hurried on. He heard the slap-slap of the relentless Ohio against the landing stage; somewhere
out in the river was the mournful hoot of a passing packet.

Suddenly, Bill Shane realized that the vague figures ahead had abruptly disappeared toward the
very river boat on which he had a stateroom, a packet that was to leave for Pittsbargh tonight.

He crept ttp the gangplank quietly. Perhaps little Benny Smith did have a cabin on this very
boat. Perhaps that's how the informer had known aboat himself.

Shane reached the wide deck, moved past cargo stored ready for the journey upriver. Somewheres
toward the stern of the wide, flat boat was the throb of boilers building up steam. The detective
reached a passageway, passed along it in semidarkness. A stanchion light glowed feebly midway
down its narrow length. Shane thought he heard someone moving ahead. Cabins lined either outer
side of the boat--

And then he did see someone. Someone came guickly from a cabin, closed the door and disappeared
quickly toward the far end of the passageway. The steps faded out and there was thick, strained
silence.

He hurried along the narrow passageway, paused before the door through which he'd seen an
indistinct figure come. Quietly, his tall form tense, Bill Shane tried the polished brass knob.

The door opened, Shane saw only darkness within, and he stepped cautiously inside. He realized
he was doing a cockeyed thing, but then the hunch persisted that Benny Smith had been brought
to this very boat.

Shane struck a match, blinded for a second, then adjusted his gaze to his surroundings. The
cabin was somewhat small. It contained a wash stand, table, rocking chair and a double bunk.

The man lay on Ihe lower bunk, sprawled grotesgue]y, Shane thought, for anyone sleeping. And
his clothes were still on!

Before the match burned out, the detective peered closer, stared, his eves bleak.

He recognized the unhealthy features, the thin face and form of the little man who had stood
up in response to his name at the barroom. Benny Smith--the informer who had been going to help
out Bill Shane, in a matter of murder!

The little fellow's clothes were half ripped from his body, as though someone had made a frantic
search. Whether or not tbe searcher had foand what he wanted was a question. But there was no
question about the knife in Benny Smith's throat.

Eyes stared 1ike polised glass in the dead man's face. Blood still pumped slowly around the
hilt of the heavy knife.

Bill Shaoe remembered the shadowy figure he had seen hurry from this very room. Maybe there
was still a chance of catching up with the person.

He started to turn--