"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 066 - Doom on the Hill" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

something dark, huddled at the side of the road.
Though his car was clearing the spot in question, Harry followed a sudden impulse. He jammed the
brakes. They acted evenly. Without a skid, the powerful coupe came to a smooth stop in the center of
the road, almost alongside the spot where the object lay.

Pulling a flashlight from the pocket in the door, Harry stepped from his car. He left the lights on and the
motor running. He did not think that he would require more than a minute to satisfy his curiosity. But
when Harry Vincent set foot upon the packed dirt of the road, he was scheduling himself for a long stay
in this vicinity.

An exclamation of alarm came from Harry's lips as his flashlight picked out the huddled object in the
road. There, Harry saw the folds of a heavy, dark overcoat. Rumpled crazily, the garment bulged high; as
Harry approached, he saw two shoes projecting from one side of the coat.

All was silent here in the night. After a moment's pause, Harry Vincent stooped. He hesitated, almost
sensing that eyes were watching him from somewhere. Then, shaking off the nervous impression, Harry
clutched the overcoat and swept it free from the form beneath. Steadily, stolidly, Harry stared.

Lying in full view, huddled with face upward, was the body of a man. Rigidly turned toward Harry, with
eyes bulging in unseeing stare, was the ashen countenance of an elderly man. Gray hair, rumpled above
the thin, dried countenance, was proof that the man's age was past sixty.

But this was not all that startled Harry Vincent. The man's silence, his position - these were but
preliminary proofs of foul play. The flashlight showed other evidence of more horrifying nature.

Coat and vest were open as testimony of a bitter struggle. A white shirt showed clearly in the light. The
center of that shirt was crimson; it bore the singing marks of flame around a spot that indicated the
victim's heart.

This elderly man had been attacked in the darkness. His struggles against a fiendish foe had been to no
avail. However well he might have protected himself, the victim had succumbed to his enemy's last
resort.

The man in the road had been shot through the heart. His killer had flung the overcoat upon his form and
had taken flight from the scene of crime. Harry Vincent, speeding through the night, had stopped to
uncover the body of a murdered man!

CHAPTER II. THE LONE HOUSE
HARRY VINCENT was grim when he returned to his coupe. He had taken a short road to save time.
He realized now that it would be impossible for him to reach New York before dawn. As an agent of
The Shadow, Harry had been trained to the important duty of following any trail of crime that his path
might cross.

The first step was to report this murder. Miles between two traveled highways, Harry was in a spot that
seemed desolate. Yet his keenness told him that a town could not be far away. The proof of this
conjecture lay in the railroad crossing that he had passed less than two miles back.

There must be towns along the line of the Union Valley and Harry was sure that he could find one without
taking to the ties. He recalled a road that had cut in from the right. As he remembered it, that dirt highway
had followed the direction of the railroad. Acting upon this recollection, Harry swung the coupe about.