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

men at his call! Watching a murder-maker depart without a chance to stop him!

As Weston stared, he saw an amazing sight.

The cab was clear, slowing momentarily as the driver yanked the gear to high. That instant gave an
opening, if anyone could take it; and one pursuer did.

Springing from beyond a parked car, just behind the space that the cab had left, was the figure of
Cranston. Weston was amazed at the swiftness of his leisurely friend. With long, racing bounds, Cranston
was gaining on the cab. His chase ended with a spring that would have done credit to a broad jumper.

Just as the cab whipped into high, Weston saw Cranston land upon the rear bumper. Clutching the spare
tire, the millionaire clubman gained a hold. He did not stop there.

Crowding through the cedars, Weston reached the curb to spy Cranston making a swift upward climb
that ended on the cab top. Spread flat, he was above the steel turret top, where bullets could not reach
him. Cranston had become a menace to the murderer.

That cab was marked. Wherever it went, traffic cops would see the clinging figure on the top. At any
time, he might make a surprise attack through one of the windows. Weston saw Cranston's hand move to
a pocket. He remembered that his friend carried a gun, by police permit.

The murderer had heard the thump upon the top of the cab. He must have recognized that he was
menaced by an armed pursuer, for the cab's course showed that the man within was giving new orders.
At the corner, the cab swung hard to the left. The driver was trying to shake off The Shadow.

Weston saw Cranston take measures of his own. He rolled to the high side of the cab, like a yachtsman
trimming ship. As the cab straightened, there was Cranston, safe on top. That was Weston's last view for
a while. The cab had turned the corner.

ON the cross street came an obstacle that the murderer had not expected; with it, opposition that
threatened The Shadow.

Fleeing cars from the avenue had partly blocked traffic, enough to halt the cab. They had gone against
traffic on a one-way street; and so had the cab, because the murderer thought a left turn would be
tougher for The Shadow.

There was a space to the left of the tangled cars that were halfway along the cross street; but the hackie
could not take it. Other automobiles were trying to force through that narrow opening.

The cab jolted to a stop. The man inside was helpless. He could not reach the enemy on the cab top. If
he opened either door, he would fall prey to an attack from above.

If Weston had been there to witness that scene, he would have credited his friend, Cranston, with sure
victory.

That was before the opposing factor entered.

While The Shadow awaited the murderer's move, a car managed to thrust through from the opposite
direction. It was a long, dull-colored touring car. Guns bristled from its rear seat. Banked thugs were