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

They did not glimpse the cab as it rounded the next corner, nor did Barbara Sandersham,
as she gazed from the front window of the second floor, where she had hurried. But the girl
did observe something which, though momentary, caused amazement to replace her
haughty expression.

Across the street, Barbara saw the outline of a tall, cloaked shape; that of a being who could
not possibly have been the man that she had trapped. Yet Barbara wondered if the sight
were real; for as she stared, the figure vanished against the blackness beneath the trees of
the parklike square.

The girl had witnessed the departure of The Shadow.

CHAPTER III. MASTER OF MILLIONS
BARBARA SANDERSHAM never thought of herself as snobbish. In fact, Barbara felt that
she was democratic. The condescending air that she adopted toward such persons as
Atlee, her father's secretary, and Pelwin, the chief chauffeur, and other servants, was her
idea of something very nice. She didn't realize that it was very much like the way that she
had fed bread crumbs to the sparrows, when a child.

Although she did not realize it, Barbara was quite unfortunate. She was stiffened constantly
by a reserve that she had adopted in childhood; and the fact that she liked to drop that
attitude was truly proof that it did not belong to her real nature.

At present, however, there was but one person in whose presence she could act naturally.
That person was her father.

When Rupert Sandersham arrived at his town home in the afternoon of the next day, he
found a very eager young lady waiting to see him. Joining her father in his study, Barbara
began an eager account of the episode of the night before, a story which her father heard
with a pleased smile throughout. Sandersham was proud of his daughter; he was glad that
she had shown her nerve.
From behind his desk, Sandersham appeared to be a very genial person. He was a trifle
portly; his full face had a smile that descended to his double chin. His eyes could be friendly
when he wanted them to be; for they were clear eyes, like Barbara's. His gray hair, too, gave
him a fatherly look that the girl appreciated.
"So you talked to the police," said Sandersham. "How did you like them?"

"They were a bit forward," admitted Barbara. "That is, at first. But after I had talked a while,
they seemed to recognize their proper place."

"Good! But just how"—Sandersham's eyes held a twinkle—"did you regard them as
forward?"
"Because of their questions. They wanted me to tell them what the burglar looked like."

"So you did?"
Barbara shook her head.

"I couldn't very well. I said he looked like a gentleman, but that I knew he wasn't a gentleman
or he would not have been a burglar. I could not say that he was handsome, for that would
have been an expression of opinion; not a description."