"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 159 - The Dead Who Lived" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Behind the case of Martin Brellick, he saw the opposite sort of evidence. To Cranston, it still meant
crime - more subtle, more deadly, than before. A master plotter had foreseen that medical men like
Sayre would be reserving opinion until new victims were reported.

That scheming brain had clinched the matter, by spreading what appeared to be an epidemic. But in
lulling medical investigators, the master crook had provided a new trail for The Shadow.

JUST before five o'clock, Lamont Cranston strolled into the office of Martin Brellick. He placed a brief
case upon a chair, introduced himself as a friend of Brellick's. Soon, he was talking with the gum-chewing
stenographer.

The girl remembered many facts, as she chatted. Somehow, Cranston's even-toned questions brought a
wealth of answers, even though the stenographer did not realize that she was being quizzed. Cranston
merely expressed sympathy for Brellick; expressed hopes that his business would not suffer by his
absence. Those remarks brought results.

"He needed a rest," insisted the stenographer. "He's tucked away ten thousand dollars, Mr. Brellick has.
He owns property, too; that's the security he used to borrow another ten thousand."

"I remember the loan" - Cranston spoke idly, as he gazed from the window into a courtyard - "because
Brellick mentioned it. I wasn't sure, though, that he had managed to raise it."

"Maybe that was the new loan," said the stenographer. "The one he was going after today. Another ten
thousand. Then he was struck - so sudden - just after that doctor from the Southeastern Mutual had said
he was in such fine shape. He must have overexerted himself, that's what."

"Overexerted himself? How?"

"Racing downstairs to answer that telephone call. The phone here was out of order. It was the repair
man's helper who made Mr. Brellick rush there. I'd have told that helper plenty, afterward, but he was
gone."

"Then the telephone was fixed by that time?"

"No. You know what the repair man found? A cut wire. Looked like rats had gnawed it. Took him a
long time to find it, too - working here alone, after the helper left."

Cranston decided to let the girl close the office. He went downstairs in the same elevator with her; but
outside, he turned back, as though he had forgotten something. Dusk was settling; the tiny offices were
dark when Cranston entered with the aid of a skeleton key.

A flashlight glimmered along the baseboard, settled on the spot where the repair man had fixed the
broken wire.

Then, in the gloom, Cranston made some telephone calls. His voice was a brisk, but guarded, tone, quite
unlike his own. He introduced himself under another name; stated that he was calling for Martin Brellick.

From the office of the Southeastern Mutual Company, Cranston learned that there must have been a
mistake, sending the physician to examine Brellick. The doctor was a regular company examiner; but