"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 065 - The Chinese Disks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

The detective looked up hurriedly. As he did, Clyde saw a sheet of paper that Joe had been examining.
The dick turned the paper over and pushed it aside. Through it, Clyde could see the outline of a
blackened circle that looked like the impression of a coin.

"Hello, Burke," greeted Cardona, in affable fashion. "If you're looking for a story, I haven't any."

"Too bad," mused Clyde. "You're here at headquarters; yet you don't know what's going on around the
place."

"What do you mean?"

"Well - either the dragnet's working mighty good or else it's slipping. When crooks come strolling out the
side door, all alone, it looks rather unusual."

"Who did you see?"

"A fellow that looked like Duff Corley. Got a bad rep, that bird. I've run into him before. But I never
suspected to see him strolling around here."

"Lay off, Burke," growled Cardona. "I know what you're aiming at. A good story for the Classic -
crooks dropping in to see their pals, the dicks. Well, if you run it, you'll have a black eye down here -"

"Don't worry, Joe," assured Clyde. "I just mentioned what I saw for your own information. Apparently
you knew that Duff Corley was here."

"I did," returned Cardona. "I called him in here. For a little chat. That was all. But it ended nowhere, like
most first interviews. So there's no story in it. But maybe, later on -"

"Corley will drop in again?"

"Yes," promised Cardona. "And that may mean a scoop for you, Burke. But in the meantime, nobody is
to know that Duff Corley was around here. You get the idea, don't you?"

"Sure," responded Clyde. "I'll keep mum, Joe. I was only kidding when I came in. But remember, I'm in
when it breaks."

"If it breaks," corrected Cardona. "Right now it means nothing at all."

As he spoke, the detective reached for the sheet of paper. He folded it, keeping the marked side down
so that Clyde could not see the impression of the Chinese disk. The detective thrust the paper in his
pocket and arose from his chair in nonchalant fashion.

Clyde Burke strolled from the office. He showed no haste in his departure from headquarters. But his
footsteps quickened after he reached the street. Clyde stopped at a store a block away. He entered a
telephone booth and dialed a number. A quiet voice responded.

"Burbank speaking."

Briefly, Clyde made a report of his short trip to headquarters. He told of seeing Duff Corley; he