"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 056 - The Crime Crypt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

thoroughly dissolved, I shall take this medicine as is."
With a quiet laugh, old Armsbury placed the glass upon the table. Thunig eyed it anxiously; then puffed at
his cigar. Martin Havelock, idly lighting another cigarette, showed little interest in the trend of
conversation.

"Do you wish these statements, Cecil?" questioned Jason Thunig, extending an envelope as he spoke to
Armsbury.

"No, indeed, Jason," returned the old man. "You are my attorney. Keep them."

"Very well." Thunig rose. "I must leave you, Cecil - and you, Martin. I am expected downtown before
half past ten."

Armsbury and his nephew arose. The old man conducted the lawyer to the door and Martin Havelock
followed. The nephew watched while his uncle showed Thunig to the front door. Calhoun had evidently
gone out.

Cecil Armsbury returned to find Martin Havelock standing just within the doorway of the living room.
The old man clapped his nephew on the shoulder.

"Wait here, Martin," he suggested. "I have some papers that I wish to give you. They will interest you. I
must go upstairs to obtain them." Armsbury's eyes noted the glass upon the table. "I can take my
medicine when I return. I shall not be gone more than ten minutes."

The old man turned and walked from the room. Martin Havelock's lips became suave as his ears heard
the fading footsteps. The young man's face had resumed its shrewd expression. From an idler, Martin
Havelock had become a schemer. Again, he was that keen, sharp-visaged individual who had stood in
the light of New York's Rialto.

WITH long, stealthy strides, Martin Havelock crossed the living room. His eyes were fiendish as they
gazed upon the bottle of white tablets. His hands were steady as they uncorked the bottle and removed
three of the large white pills. One by one, the treacherous nephew dropped the tablets into the glass.
Then, as an afterthought, he added a fourth and finally a fifth.

Twisted, leering lips showed him to be a man who contemplated murder. Carefully, Martin Havelock
corked the bottle. He placed it beside the glass. He noted that it still contained many pills. The fact that
more had been added to the tumbler of medicine would not be recognized.

Three might have been sufficient. Five was better. Dissolved pills could not be counted. Calhoun would
be to blame for this; and Jason Thunig, Cecil Armsbury's attorney, would be a testifier to the fact that the
servant must have erred.

Martin Havelock's smile was evil. The young man watched the tablets rapidly dissolve. The water was
clearing almost to its original color. Murder was in the making - murder that would be classed as
accident.

Still standing by the table, Martin Havelock drew a cigarette from his pocket. He placed it between his
evil lips. His expression began to change, turning mild for the part that he was to play upon his uncle's
return.