"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 031 - The Red Blot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Thus The Shadow found complete seclusion in that corner of the black-walled room where blue light
shone upon a table top and a strangely dialed clock marked each passing second with a long, gripping
throb.

THE light and the clock were not the only tokens of The Shadow's presence on this night. Into the circle
of illumination crept two objects that seemed like living creatures detached from the body to which they
belonged.

The hands of The Shadow!

Long and white, they showed a combination of velvety smoothness and great muscular power. These
were the hands that had fought so well against crime; and one of them bore the token, which was the
positive symbol of The Shadow.

This mark was a gleaming gem which shone from the third finger of the left hand. It was The Shadow's
girasol, a rare fire opal, unmatched in all the world. Its color was a mingling of hues; the glowing depths
of the stone changed from brilliant blue to dull crimson, and all the shades between.

From the girasol came splashes of fiery light, like the glimmer of living sparks. A dying ember, ever
emitting its final darts of minute flame - such was The Shadow's girasol.

The hands moved in a fashion that portrayed ease of operation. An envelope came into view; from it a
thin bundle of papers. The fingers unfolded a sheet; the hidden eyes behind the light made a brief perusal;
then that paper was replaced by another.

Despite the ease of the hands, their speed and precision were amazing, when judged by the clock upon
the table. An observer would not have believed that those indications on the outer circle of the dial were
mere seconds. It seemed as though The Shadow, even when engaged upon the routine procedure of
summarizing the reports from his agents, could hold back time in its passage.

The simple scene in the sanctum was an explanation of The Shadow's uncanny ability to come out best in
his wars with men of crime. He was a being who dealt in split seconds when he worked!

Another envelope - a third. Papers removed, read, and replaced. Clippings, also; and when The
Shadow's summary was complete, a few remainders were left for careful perusal. Report sheets and
newspaper items - the white hands spread them upon the table top.

Every one of these papers dealt with a single subject. The right hand of The Shadow appeared with a
pen. Upon a sheet of blank paper, it inscribed a phrase which summarized it in one title:

THE RED BLOT

The ink which The Shadow used was crimson. It shone in vivid contrast to the light above. Eyes from the
dark viewed the words; then the poised hand gave the pen a shake.

A large blob of ink spattered upon the white paper. It spread irregularly until it formed a grotesquely
shaped blotch of drying fluid that looked like a huge drop of blood.

No action could have been more significant. The words meant nothing now. There, beneath them, was
the very sign which had been mentioned - a crimson mark that illustrated the title.