"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 117 - Vengeance Is Mine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

SOMETIMES, even masters of crime unwittingly let straws flurry in the
wind. The Shadow had encountered cases where such wisps had reached the
knowledge of the police, only to be overlooked. If there was any inkling of
coming crime available, The Shadow intended to uncover it. That was why he was
riding in the limousine.
The big car swung into an avenue where traffic was light. It pulled up in
front of a gray-stone building, an old but well-kept edifice that bore an
appearance of wealth and influence. This was the exclusive Cobalt Club, the
most high-toned rendezvous in New York. The Cobalt Club boasted a ten-year
waiting list for membership; hence persons who were already members regarded
themselves as fortunate.
Among the present members was Ralph Weston, police commissioner of New
York City. Proud of the distinction that the Cobalt Club gave him, Weston
visited the gray-stoned portals whenever he found occasion. Since crime had
quieted in New York, the police commissioner had idle evenings. The Shadow
knew
that he would find Weston at the club.
When he alighted from the limousine, The Shadow presented a much
different
appearance than the one with which he was usually identified. Law and
underworld
alike knew The Shadow as a being in black. Cloaked shoulders; a downturned hat
brim that shaded all features except a pair of blazing eyes; thin-gloved hands
that gripped huge automatics; hidden lips, ever ready with a mocking laugh of
challenge - those were the outstanding points of description that defined The
Shadow. None of those details fitted him in his present guise.
The lights beneath the marquee that fronted the Cobalt Club showed The
Shadow as a tall, calm-faced personage of leisurely bearing. His features,
somewhat hawkish, were immobile; almost masklike. Attired in evening clothes,
The Shadow had the distinguished appearance that marked him as a member of the
Cobalt Club. Both the tall doorman and the chunky cab starter recognized him
as
such.
When he visited the Cobalt Club, The Shadow passed as Lamont Cranston,
millionaire life member, close friend of Police Commissioner Ralph Weston.
The doorman, slightly taller than The Shadow, tipped his hat and bowed.
The squatty starter, about to assign the limousine to a choice space, learned
that Mr. Cranston no longer wanted the car. The limousine pulled away while
the
doorman was ushering The Shadow into the lobby.


JUST inside the door, a pudgy-faced man brushed past The Shadow and
brusquely questioned the doorman:
"Are you sure that messenger hasn't come yet?"
"Not yet, Mr. Zanwood," replied the doorman. "Both the starter and myself
are on the lookout for him."
"I can't wait much longer." Zanwood jerked a watch from his pocket. "I am