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

“Not to those who keep their business secret,” objected Pennybrook, “and that certainly applies to you,
Debrossler.”

“Of course. Even my daughters know nothing of my business. They have callers—such as young Gilden
and this chap Reeth, who is from somewhere in the Middle West—but none of the visitors know
anything about my affairs.”

“Unless some one comes here to talk business—”

“That never happens, Pennybrook, except on evenings when I know that Jane and Louise will not be at
home. Take to-night, for instance. I knew the girls were going to the theater. I ordered the chauffeur to
be here with the car. Jane and Louise have gone; the young men are with them. I shall not be disturbed
when Hiram Windler calls.”

Debrossler paused to consult his watch.

“Nearly half past eight,” he remarked. “Windler should be here in a few minutes. Let us go upstairs to my
study.”

“Why not talk with him down here?” inquired Pennybrook, rising with Debrossler. “You say that we shall
not be disturbed.”

“I have the money in my study,” stated Debrossler, in a cautious tone. “One hundred thousand dollars.”

“What?” queried Pennybrook, stopping short. “You brought cash from the bank?”

“Of course! Windler is a hoarder—you know that, Pennybrook.”

“But he must have a bank account.”

“Apparently not. He said that he wanted cash for his properties; that he would not sign the papers unless
I produced the entire sum. Go and get your briefcase, Pennybrook, and meet me in the study.”

THE lawyer stopped in a hallway vestibule while Debrossler ascended gloomy stairs to the second floor.
At the top, Debrossler paused in a dim side passage, while he produced a key to unlock a heavy door.
He paused a moment, waiting for Pennybrook. Deciding that the lawyer had mislaid his briefcase,
Debrossler unlocked the door.

The barrier swung inward; Debrossler stopped on the threshold in profound amazement. The study was
lighted; that fact startled him immediately. His eyes looked toward the center of the room, instinctively
seeking the desk where he had placed his money.

There Debrossler saw the sight that made him gape. Standing beyond the desk was a half-crouched
figure, clad in a jerseylike suit of mottled gray. The man was masked by a hood that projected
downward from a rounded cap, all a part of his odd garb. Glaring eyes shone through slits in the cloth.

In his right hand, which was covered by a glove that formed part of the sleeved jersey, the intruder held a
gleaming revolver. His left hand, also covered with finger-pieces of gray, was half drawn from an opened
drawer of the desk.