"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 101 - The Gray Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

DRIVING his own car, The Shadow followed the commissioner to Debrossler's. The course led away
from the direction of the railroad station, in a rather roundabout circuit. Both houses were one street back
from the Sound; but there was no road that followed the shore line.

This meant that the cars were forced to go a few blocks inland, to a wide, tree-lined avenue. Halfway to
Debrossler's, a single street went out to the Sound; passing that thoroughfare, The Shadow saw lights in
the distance. From previous knowledge of this district, he knew that the street led to the Holmwood
Beach Club, which had a private club house near its pier on Long Island Sound.

At Debrossler's, another street made a dead end when it neared the Sound. Debrossler's house was
lighted; The Shadow pulled in alongside Weston's car. There was a question that needed explanation;
namely, why Cardona had happened to be coming past Debrossler's house.

The question was answered shortly after The Shadow had been introduced—as Cranston—to
Debrossler and Pennybrook. Cardona mentioned that he had taken the wrong road to Holmwood. He
had come into town from a road that passed beyond Holmwood.

Debrossler and Pennybrook were seated in the enclosed porch. The banker was grumbly; the lawyer,
moody. Both attitudes were explainable: Debrossler's by his loss of a hundred thousand dollars;
Pennybrook's by the blow that he had taken on the head. Debrossler heard Weston's theory concerning
Culden and agreed with it.

“Confound it!” expressed Debrossler. “I knew that Windler had a secretary; but I never saw the fellow,
nor did I know his name.”

“Could Windler have told him about this transaction?” queried Weston.

“Certainly,” assured Debrossler. “I talked with Windler more than a week ago. That was when we made
this appointment.”
“Then Culden did not need to visit Windler to-night.”

“Except to find out if the appointment had been postponed. There was a chance that I might have gone
from town and therefore have put it off until a later date.”

Weston nodded wisely.

“Culden is the man we must find,” he decided—“unless there is some one else who could have known
your plans to have the money here. Who was at this house to-night, Mr. Debrossler?”

“My daughters,” replied the banker, “and two young men. One man was Pierce Gilden, whom we know
quite well. The other was Alan Reeth, from out of town. But none of them knew that I had an
appointment with Windler, nor that I had brought the money home with me.”

“When did they go out?”

“At least ten minutes before the Gray Ghost entered my study.”

“They went to the city?”