"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 116 - Intimidation,Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

purpled as his hand increased its tension, to no avail. Suddenly, Clewiss
relaxed; he turned about to face the others. Beads of sweat showed on the
lawyer's forehead; the paleness of his features told that he, too, was willing
to admit the menace.
 One statement in the letter stood as a fact, and thereby gave emphasis to
the others. Every person in the conference room was a prisoner, held by the
unknown master plotter who called himself Intimidation, Incorporated.


CHAPTER IV

CRIME THROUGH BLUFF

WATCHING the trapped men, The Shadow saw all eyes turn toward the corner
of the room. There, upon a small table, stood the microphone that the letter
had mentioned. The instrument gave testimony to the fact that everything said
in the conference room could be heard by Intimidation, Incorporated.
Staring at the microphone, Clewiss mopped his forehead with a
handkerchief, then questioned:
"How did that come here?"
"We used this room for a broadcast," explained Wrightley, in a weak tone.
The mayor had managed to recuperate. "That was three days ago; but the
microphone must have been left here."
"It wasn't left here," inserted Bursard, who stared steadily from beside
Wrightley. "The mike was removed and brought to the station. This must be
another one. I wondered about it when I saw it today."
"Gentlemen!" The excited speaker was Newell Radbourne. "Why quibble about
the microphone? Look beneath the table; see the rug there. It hides a death
device! We have received orders; we must follow them."
Bursard eyed the rug. His gaze became rigid. There was a tightening of
his
lips that showed determination. Stooping mechanically, he reached down to
grasp
the fringe of the rug, as if to learn what lay beneath. Mayor Wrightley
gasped;
Newell Radbourne uttered a high-pitched protest.
"Don't touch the rug, Bursard -"
Bursard barely hesitated at Radbourne's cry. It was Clewiss who offered
the real interruption. Bounding from the doorway, the attorney grabbed Bursard
by the shoulder and spun him roughly to a chair.
"Don't be a fool!" snapped Clewiss, his face red with excitement. "We
know
that we are trapped; that we are being overheard. This letter means business!
Let us settle it."
There were nods from Wrightley and Radbourne. Bursard subsided in his
chair; Clewiss sat down and faced the others with a strained expression.
"I won't try to run this," declared the lawyer. "I learned my lesson when
I found the door clamped. I'm not a man who quits under fire, but at the same
time -"
"We understand," put in Radbourne, his tone relieved. "You are willing to