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

THE Gray Ghost swung viciously with his revolver. His blow was hasty, for he was half wrestling his
wrist from Debrossler's grasp. The banker stopped the blow and clutched the Gray Ghost's throat. With
a hard twist, the crook flayed his left arm sidewise and delivered a forearm uppercut to Debrossler's chin.
The banker did a diving sprawl across the floor.

The Gray Ghost leaped for the door and pressed the light switch. As he did, another man entered.
Gasping, looking up from the darkness, Debrossler saw a struggle just within the door.

“Hold him, Pennybrook!” cried the banker. “Hold him—”
The shout was too late. Something thudded in the darkness. There was a groan; a figure slumped to the
floor. The Gray Ghost leaped away from the man whom he had slugged with the revolver. He grabbed
the door and slammed it shut. Debrossler, on his feet, made another dive for the intruder.

Again, the Gray Ghost sent the banker sprawling. This time, Debrossler rolled over and thumped against
the desk. His head spun; dizzily, he heard a clamber at the window. He tried to rise; but slumped.

Some one was pounding at the door. Debrossler heard an anxious voice. It was Furbison. The butler
was unable to unlock the door. It had latched with the Gray Ghost's slam.

“Outside!” gasped Debrossler. “Summon aid! At once, Furbison!”

A muffled clatter told that the butler was running downstairs. Debrossler hoped that he would not
encounter the Gray Ghost. Furbison, alone, would be no match for the desperado.

In the darkness, Debrossler managed to find his feet. He steadied himself against the desk; then stumbled
toward the door. Halfway, he tripped over a prone, unconscious body. Sprawled, Debrossler found new
trouble in rising. He crawled to the door, pulled himself up in rickety fashion and found the light switch.
He clicked it.

Looking toward the floor, Debrossler saw Pennybrook. The lawyer had received a hard slug from the
revolver. His bald head showed a lump as large as a bantam's egg. Debrossler approached the lawyer
but found himself unable to lift Pennybrook's dead weight. While he struggled with the task, there were
new footsteps outside the door. Debrossler dropped Pennybrook and opened the door.

On the threshold stood a stocky man, with swarthy, square-set countenance; behind him was Furbison,
anxious-eyed. The man at the doorway flashed a badge.

“You're—you're a detective?”

Debrossler gasped the query. The stocky man nodded.

“Acting Inspector Cardona,” he replied. “Driving out here from headquarters. You're Martin
Debrossler?”

Debrossler nodded.

“Your butler stopped my car,” explained Cardona. “Told me he thought there was murder going on
inside. Who's this man?”

He indicated Pennybrook. Debrossler gave the lawyer's name and explained how he had entered the