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

"A friend of mine?"

"Yes. But he acted suspiciously at the club. He didn't want to wait there; and no wonder. He would have
been trapped, if he had started gunfire there."

"What was his name, commissioner?"

"He called himself Cray. Skipper Dan Cray -"

Weston saw a reflective gleam in the eyes of Cranston, as though they were visualizing a face from the
past. Weston added brief descriptive details of Cray's appearance:

"Grizzled hair - flat, weather-beaten face - shabby clothes - his hat held tight in his hands -"

With nods, The Shadow marked each point; then spoke, in the reminiscent tone of Cranston:

"Skipper Dan. Old Daniel Cray -"
There was doubt, and Weston recognized it. Cranston, the judge of men, would not believe Skipper Dan
Cray to be a fiend who dealt in murder. Weston chewed his lips.

"There's no doubt about it, Cranston," expressed the commissioner, almost angrily. "I saw Cray myself!
The doorman knew which cab he entered. It was the only cab he could have boarded. This very cab,
beside us!

"That's why I shouted to Cray. He fired the shots, as soon as he heard me. Even the driver has identified
him. You may think well of Cray, but you're wrong this time, Cranston. Cray was the man who tried to
murder both of us. The man who fled and escaped."

AS Weston fumed, he saw a new expression on Cranston's face, as though the tall listener was
winnowing the facts as he received them, separating the false from the true. When Weston had finished,
he saw his friend step toward the cab. With one hand on the door, Cranston spoke.

"Sometimes even facts can deceive us," he told Weston, solemnly. "When they do, we know that we
have bridged those facts with false conclusions. I believe you when you say that Skipper Cray came to
the Cobalt Club; that he entered this cab to ride away.

"I agree also that the interval was short; so brief that Cray could not have left the cab. But when you infer
from those facts that Cray fired the shots, you are mistaken. Daniel Cray was not the man to deal in
murder. He would have done his utmost to prevent it!"

Cranston's hand turned the doorknob. The door came slightly open, toward the curb. Only the hand of
Cranston restrained its swing. Weston saw solemnity upon those hawkish features. The tone from
Cranston's steady lips was like a knell:

"The man who escaped did more than attempt murder, commissioner. He accomplished it! That was why
he began his gunfire when you tried to halt him. Here is the proof."

The strong hand swung the cab door wide. A huddled mass tilted from the floor of the cab, lurched
outward, sprawled to form a human shape. It struck the cab step; rolled over and lay face up on the