"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 172 - Battle of Greed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

The derby, held in George's left hand, became very heavy. Yes, the police would search him
properly. His permit would account for his gun, but when they found the picks and keys, he
would not be able to claim that he had strolled in here to pay a social call.

Barbara pressed the button. George heard sounds from the floor above, then footsteps on
the stairs. Added lights were flashing on along the hallways. From the desk, Barbara called:
"There is a burglar in here! Come at once!"

There was no excitement in the girl's tone. Its pitch had been raised, but only so the call
would carry. Bitterly, George saw the irony of his situation. He wondered what The Shadow
would think of it. It was The Shadow who had talked him out of turning crook; but George had
only put himself into a plight where even The Shadow could not aid him.
So George Ellerby thought, only to learn that he was wrong.
At the very moment when the first of the servants arrived outside the door of the study, every
light in the house went black! In the midst of sudden shouts, that included an angered cry
from Barbara, George understood. The Shadow must have learned of George's dilemma.
Reaching the cellar, The Shadow had pulled the main switch.

There was nothing slow-witted about George—as The Shadow had recognized. George
made the first move, a dive to the floor, which he followed with a crawling scramble toward
the study door. Barbara's gun began to spurt, but the girl was shooting at the spot where
George had been and she was at least three seconds behind time.
Bounding through the doorway, George yanked out his flashlight and used it to find the rear
stairs. Shouting servants drove for him; reaching the steps ahead of them, he hurried
downward. But some of the servants had flashlights, too. They took the front stairway and cut
in upon his path.

George saw a revolver glimmer in the light; heard a servant shout for him to halt. Then the
fellow was sprawling, tripped by an invisible hand. The next servant, one who also had a
flashlight, was suddenly smothered by a blackened shape that sent him spinning, as his
flashlight rattled along the floor.

Bolting for the side door, George heard the pound of footsteps from the rear stairs; then
startled cries, accompanied by the thump of bodies. The Shadow was sprawling those
pursuers in the same effective fashion.
George reached the sidewalk; halted, wondering which way to go, until there was a swish
beside him. Turning, he saw The Shadow pointing him along the street.

Though he didn't know where he was heading, George took that direction, muttering thanks
as he went. Past the next street lamp, he stumbled squarely into the open door of a waiting
cab. The driver had the door shut and was speeding away, almost before George realized
that he was actually in a taxi. Half bewildered, the young man reached to the floor and
picked up his precious derby hat.
From the street behind him, George Ellerby thought that he heard a strange peal of parting
laughter, wishing him a safe return to the walks of ordinary life.

Perhaps the mirth was actually George's imagination; for the Sandersham servants didn't
hear it, when they pounded out to the street. They stood there, half a dozen of them, puzzled,
wondering where the fugitive burglar had gone.