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

Patiently, the butler stood by, while Debrossler resumed his conversation with others present. The group
was clustered; through the crack of the doorway, The Shadow could see every one.

Pennybrook was present. The lawyer had recovered from his moodiness. Apparently, his headache was
ended. Debrossler's two daughters were also on the porch; with them was a young man, tall, but of
slender build. His face was pleasant; but serious. His complexion was light, like his hair. His air was
polite; he was faultlessly attired in a tuxedo. The Shadow knew that this must be Pierce Gilden or Alan
Reeth. The man proved to be the former.

“That's how the Gray Ghost made his get-away,” declaimed Debrossler, “and if you're anything of a
detective, Gilden, perhaps you can furnish us with some clues.”

“The police have found none?” inquired Gilden.
“They have attributed the crime to Windler's secretary,” replied Debrossler. “But no one seems to know
much about the fellow, except that his name is Culden.”

“Culden,” mused Gilden. “I never heard of him. I don't like the name, though.” He paused to deliver a
wry smile. “It sounds too much like Gilden.”

“That's so,” put in Pennybrook, with a laugh. “It wouldn't be past those police investigators to get the
names mixed. Don't worry, Pierce. If they arrest you, we can vouch for you.”

“Of course,” laughed Louise Debrossler. “You were not out of our sight, Pierce, from seven o'clock until
midnight. Jane and I will supply your alibi.”

“Excellent!” decided Gilden. “I am glad that we went out together to-night. I am sorry, though, that Reeth
did not come back from the show with us.”

“He stopped off at his hotel,” explained Jane. “Alan is going out of town to-morrow.”

“LET us get back to the matter of the Gray Ghost,” decided Debrossler. “Let us try to decide who he
might be. The Gray Ghost is acquainted with this part of Long Island. He knew of affairs to-night.

“He cannot be myself, nor Pennybrook. Nor could he have been you, Gilden; nor Reeth. Windler was
murdered; he was not the Gray Ghost. We come logically to Culden. The police are right. Culden is the
Gray Ghost.”

“I agree with that,” asserted Pennybrook. “But what good does it do us? Where is Culden?”

“Or where will he be?” queried Gilden. “What places should be searched for him?”

Debrossler shook his head; then suddenly paused.

“I wonder,” he remarked, “if there is anything to the old theory that a murderer returns to the scene of a
crime.”

“Nothing to it,” put in Pennybrook. “You won't find Culden coming back to Windler's.”

“Or here,” added Gilden. “That theory is fiction, Mr. Debrossler.”