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

He found his road after a mile of driving. It proved to be rough and stony. Moreover, as Harry slackened
his speed to twenty miles an hour, he noted that this road was swinging along the base of the hillside. It
was evidently an old lower road that had been superseded by the one along the slope.

One mile back along the upper road; one curving mile along the lower. Harry realized that a person
cutting across fields and through wooded patches could reduce the trip to half a mile. This was when he
began to wonder if he had followed the best course. As the question perplexed him, he saw a house
ahead.

It was a good-sized building, on the side of the road toward the hill. Harry surmised that its owner must
be a man of means. Lights glimmered dully from windows on the first floor and the second. Another
lighted window on the third story looked like an indication of servants in the place.

Harry found a driveway and entered. He swung his car up to the front door. He alighted and found a bell
with his flashlight. It was an old-fashioned device, with a knob projecting from the center of the door.
When Harry twisted the knob, the clangor of the bell was followed by echoes that seemed to come from
the recesses of the building.

Harry waited half a minute. Then he rang again. Just as he was about to ring the bell for the third time, he
caught the sound of footsteps from the stairs. A heavy, middle-aged woman appeared in the dim hall.
She was attired in an old dressing gown, which she held bundled with one hand. Harry saw her by
peering through tiny panes of glass beside the door; when the woman arrived, she stared back just as
Harry stepped away from the window.

A LIGHT flashed on from a little projecting roof above Harry's head. Harry stepped into view as the
woman again peered from the window. Seeing his friendly face, the woman unbolted the door and
opened it.

"You want to see Mr. Breck, yah?" the woman questioned.

"Yes," responded Harry. "I should like to see him at once."

"I think he is gone out," informed the woman, making ready to close the door.

"Wait a moment." Harry stopped the closing door. "I have come here to report a - an accident."

"You mean someone hurt?"

"Yes. Up on the road along the hill. It is important that I bring aid. Do you have a telephone here?"

"Yah."

The woman stepped aside to let Harry enter. Half friendly, half suspicious, she conducted the young man
through a well-furnished hall into a living room. This was a comfortable apartment, well-stocked with
books. The woman pointed to the telephone, which rested on a wallbox equipped with a bell handle.

Harry lifted the receiver and whirled the handle. He was forced to repeat the operation before he
received a response in the voice of a lazy rural operator.