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

The Shadow indicated the pose. The woman gazed, amazed.
“Right you are, sir!” she exclaimed. “'Twas that very way he stood! Ah, I understand. He is a friend of
yours, like Mr. Culden.”

“Not exactly,” returned The Shadow, with a slight smile. Dropping his hands, he added: “When Mr.
Culden returns, tell him that he had a caller. He may expect to see me later.”

“The name, sir?”

“It is not necessary.”

The Shadow stepped away from the door. The woman gawked, puzzled; then closed the door and went
back into the house. The Shadow paused at the foot of the stone steps. Deliberately he lighted a cigarette
and flicked the match, still burning, to the curb.

The Shadow had correctly classed Culden's “respectable” visitor.

Culden had received a summons from the underworld. The caller had been a hoodlum, one of better
appearance than his pals, clever enough to put up a “front” that would bluff the landlady. He had come
for Culden. Unsuspecting, the secretary had walked into a trap.

The muffling coat collar had been the man's move to cover his face against later recognition. The hand in
the pocket had held a gun. Culden had gone out with his supposed friend rather than receive a dose of
bullets.

The Shadow could picture an automobile waiting farther down the street, ready to take Culden for a ride.
The secretary had known that he was “on the spot”; that the ride might be a one-way trip. Nevertheless,
he had acted as did many others under such threatening pressure. He had gone quietly.

WHILE The Shadow lingered, a taxi wheeled up from Eighth Avenue. It was Moe's cab; the driver had
rounded the block and had parked at the corner. He had seen The Shadow's match-flare signal.

As The Shadow boarded the cab, he glanced along the street toward a parked touring car. He saw a
man moving beside the automobile.

There were men in that car. A cover-up crew, posted to watch for other visitors. Some slinker had
sneaked up while The Shadow was talking to the landlady. The woman's voice had been shrill enough to
carry to the sidewalk. The slinker had gone back to the touring car. It would be The Shadow's turn to be
on the spot, once he rode in Moe's cab.

Calmly, The Shadow spoke to the taxi driver. He toned instructions from the interior of the cab, while
opening a briefcase that had been beneath the seat. Folds of black cloth settled over The Shadow's
shoulders. A slouch hat came next; then gloves and automatics, which clicked ominously in the gloom.
The Shadow gave a final order.

Moe started westward. He passed the parked touring car at high speed, riding in second gear. Whizzing
for the corner of Ninth Avenue, Moe gave every indication that he expected pursuit.

For a moment, the occupants of the touring car were caught unaware; then growls sounded, as the
gang-manned car sped to the chase.