"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 158 - Crime Over Boston" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

That circling glare brightened the trees, showed the black coupe below them. It flashed upon
the face of a young man seated by the window on the right; but in its passage, that glare did
not disclose the car's driver.
He was cloaked in garments of black that made him as shapeless as a splotch of light itself.


The coupe purred forward, nosed back along the road to stop beneath the trees. The next
sweep of the light showed vacancy beneath the cliff trees. This portion of the Rhode Island
coast appeared devoid of human presence.

There was a whisper from the cloaked driver of the coupe. He was giving instructions to the
man beside him. Gloved fingers adjusted the changing road map for the return trip. The
being in black was turning over the car to his companion.
That done, The Shadow opened the door on his side of the coupe and stepped into the
outer darkness of the night.

Whatever his reason for this journey to Rhode Island, The Shadow had so far carried his
plans to perfection. He had driven miles along a road that was watched at many intervals. In
completing that trip, he had assured himself that the return journey could be accomplished
by his companion.

TO Harry Vincent, his long-trusted agent, The Shadow was delegating the task of removing
the coupe from this vicinity. With the car's departure, all evidence of The Shadow's arrival
would be vanished.

Sliding in behind the wheel, Harry passed a brief case through the window. Gloved hands
received it. Harry was ready with the gear shift when a hissed tone ordered him to remain.
There was something sinister in that sibilant utterance; it was chilling, even to a listener who
knew The Shadow for a friend. That whisper betokened ill to men who deserved The
Shadow's wrath. Harry sensed instantly that The Shadow had caught some evidence of evil,
present in the darkness.
Below an arch of tree boughs, Harry could see a stretch of bay, vague in the straggly
moonlight. This was the direction that The Shadow watched. As Harry stared, he, too, was
conscious of motion in the water.

A low, long sweep of blackness hulked through the moon-splotched water. It was gliding, like
some monster from the deep that had come to seek the surface. A faint swash had caught
The Shadow's attention; he had looked straight to the spot a few hundred yards off the
shore.

Then, with a blanketing of the moonlight, the rakish apparition was gone. The beam from the
lighthouse swept by, but it was above the level of the spot where the thing had been.
Whatever the object was, it had vanished.
Moments passed. Another light swept from the night. It was a searchlight, beaming directly
on the bay. Harry knew its source: a Coast Guard cutter was patrolling these channels, on
the lookout for stray craft.

The searchlight revealed nothing. Harry decided that he and his chief had actually glimpsed
some sea creature that had later dived beneath the surface. Porpoises—even small
whales—were common in these waters.