"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 126 - Treasure Trail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Weston looked toward the inner rooms. They were deep, gloomy places, almost like caverns. Once in
the lounge or the library, a person would be cut off from exit to the street.

Was that why Cray refused to wait?

As Weston asked himself the question, he decided that he ought to know more about Skipper Cray.
Striding through the outer door, Weston reached the sidewalk and looked along the street. He did not
see Cray. Turning to the doorman, Weston demanded:

"Where is the man who asked for Cranston?"

The doorman looked blank. Weston gave other details:

"The squatty man, with gray hair. His face looked weather-beaten. He came in, holding his hat like a
beggar."

"That fellow!"

The doorman pointed to a taxi, some thirty feet along the street. The cab was starting to pull from the
curb; its driver was having trouble unwedging it from between two other cars.

"He got in that cab, commissioner," said the doorman. "Want me to call him back?"

"No. Wait a moment."

Weston watched the cab, hoping for a glimpse of Cray. As the commissioner stared, the doorman spoke
suddenly:

"Here's Mr. Cranston now, commissioner."

Weston looked to see a limousine halting at the club entrance. The doorman sprang to the car door; a tall
figure in evening clothes rose leisurely to step to the curb. Weston saw a hawkish, masklike face. He
recognized Lamont Cranston.

Looking along to the cab, Weston saw that it was almost clear. In another ten seconds it would be gone.
Weston wanted to witness the meeting between Cray and Cranston. He saw the chance slipping from
him. Weston showed speed. He shouted:

"Cranston!"

As his friend looked toward him, Weston pointed to the cab with one hand; beckoned with the other.
Starting a quick jog toward the cab, Weston waved his arms and called:

"Wait! Wait there, Cray! Hold that cab!"

The cab stopped abruptly, its nose toward traffic. It was Weston's turn to halt, an instant later. It was not
sight of Cray that stopped Weston; in fact, he did not glimpse the Skipper's face.

What Weston did see was a gun muzzle that jabbed through the opened rear window, just behind the
cab door. The revolver was aiming squarely for the police commissioner.