"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 023 - The Shadow's Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

The Metrolite had its advantages. In a large hotel in Manhattan, guests seldom spoke to one another.
One saw hundreds of new faces every day. It was possible to live here in virtual obscurity, free from any
interference. A man of quiet demeanor could isolate himself from those about him with little difficulty.

Yet, despite the fact that the guests of the Metrolite Hotel moved like human automata, each indifferent to
the presence of his fellows, there was more drama and mystery about their individual lives than one might
find elsewhere. This was Harry's opinion; and it was well founded. For Harry Vincent, himself, was
leading an amazing life beneath the guise of placid existence.

No one knew the affairs of Harry Vincent. The natives of his home town classed him simply as a local
man who had gone to the big city, and had made good there. They knew nothing about his occupation or
his whereabouts. Here, at the Metrolite, Harry Vincent was merely another guest among several
thousand.

A handsome, well-built young man, about thirty years of age, Harry Vincent presented an excellent
appearance. One would have classed him as prosperous— perhaps a successful salesman or a minor
executive of a business house. None would have suspected his actual occupation: that he was an active
and trusted agent of The Shadow!

THE name of The Shadow was known everywhere. It was synonymous with mystery. Millions of people
had heard the voice of The Shadow, over the radio, and had been spellbound by its awesome tones.

But to one class of people—the riffraff of the underworld—the name of The Shadow meant more than a
voice. These crime-steeped mobsters feared the very name of The Shadow; for to them, The Shadow
was a living menace!

The hand of The Shadow reached everywhere. It had risen to smash the well-plotted schemes of master
crooks. It had struck down hordes of evil mobsters. It had reached across the ocean to pluck the
ill-gotten gains of international criminals. Always, the man behind that hand had remained invisible.

Shrouded in darkness, The Shadow moved like a phantom of the night; appearing in the most
unexpected places; relentless enemy of evildoers. When The Shadow's laugh was heard, the fiercest of
criminals quailed before its mockery. The presence of The Shadow was the knell of doom to all
wrong-doers.

Some had seen The Shadow; but they had never looked upon his face. Garbed in flowing cloak and
broad-brimmed slouch hat—both garments of jet-black hue —The Shadow was master of darkness, a
being who seemingly came from the outer corridors of boundless space.

The Shadow held the ever-changing scales that weighed the struggle between justice and crime. When
the balance turned against the forces of the law, it was The Shadow who thrust back gang leaders and
their minions, that justice might prevail.

Time and again, the master minds of gangdom had sought to wrest themselves clear of the menace of The
Shadow. They had striven in vain. The true identity of this black-clad being had remained a mystery.

On certain occasions, agents of The Shadow—Harry Vincent and others— had fallen into the clutches of
the enemy. Always, The Shadow had rescued them, despite the fearful odds that had confronted him.