"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 216 - The Chinese Primrose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

logically, Felix Mandore—was the man higher up. Brend was glancing at his watch, noting that the
afternoon was late. From his actions, he was going to close the office. But as he passed Trobin, the bland
man suddenly stopped and clapped his hand on the nervous salesman's shoulder.

"You did well with the last item, Trobin," complimented Brend. "I'm going to let you pick up another
tonight, one that your Boston customer will pay sixty grand for, after one look. Stop at the Acme Florists,
as usual, then go to the Hong Kong Shop."

"In Chinatown," gulped Trobin. "Always in Chinatown. It's giving me the jitters, Brend!"

"Because of the Chinese?"

Trobin nodded a reply to Brend's question. The bland man chuckled dryly.

"There are Chinese who might make trouble," he admitted, "but not when I'm handling matters.
Everything will be under control, Trobin, particularly in Chinatown."

The way in which Brend emphasized his statement carried weight with Trobin. His eyes showed
eagerness, at thought of a quick sale that would net him six thousand dollars in commission. Rising,
Trobin reached out to shake hands with Brend.

"I'm all set, Brend," Trobin decided. "I'll pick up the item, and take an early plane East tomorrow. I'll see
you again early next week."

LEAVING Brend's office, Trobin hailed a taxicab and rode to the Acme Florists, a little flower shop not
far from the outskirts of Frisco's Chinatown. The flower store was important for three reasons: it was
near Chinatown; it stayed open evenings; and it carried a particular type of flower favored by Trobin and
certain other persons.

That flower was a red primrose, and could easily be recognized by anyone who had ever seen a
specimen before. The Acme Florists were the only ones who carried those primroses, which were
shipped from a hothouse in Sausalito, across the Bay.

When Trobin entered the little flower shop, the lone clerk gave a smile, stepped to an obscure corner and
brought the customer a red primrose.

There was a girl in the flower shop, buying daffodils. She was an attractive girl, with brown hair and
friendly, inquiring eyes. She looked at the red primrose, and Trobin glanced at the girl, somewhat
suspiciously, until he observed that she was attracted solely by the flower's beauty.

But when Trobin had paid for the primrose and placed it in his lapel, he gave another suspicious glance as
he sidled out to the street.

The girl, by then, had stepped to the deep corner of the flower shop.

"What lovely roses!" she exclaimed. "I don't believe I ever saw any others like them."

"They're a special variety," explained the clerk. "We happened to get them, and it seems that some
customers always want them, so we keep a supply. About the daffodils"—he gestured to the flowers that
the girl had bought— "where shall I send them?"