"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 260 - The Money Master" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

The bold ruse worked. Twisting deep in darkness, zigzagging as he went, The Shadow not only cleared
the barrage by yards; over his shoulder he saw Bert plunging in through the window, hurling Emmart
ahead of him. Those two were safe, even safer than The Shadow, though he wasn't worried in the least
regarding his further security.

Offense was his defense, now. Halting on the far side of the street, The Shadow jabbed new shots for the
spots where he saw revolver spurts. Crooks were luckier than they should have been, for those The
Shadow picked were crouched beside house steps or fire hydrants that didn't show in the darkness.

They heard the bullets zang and they didn't wait around, nor did their companions. Forgetting Wip
Jandle, who had crumpled at the bottom of the fire escape with his precious box, the tricked marksmen
dived for alleyways from which they had originally issued. A tribe of human rats were seeking shelter
against the wrath of The Shadow.

To settle that issue, The Shadow wheeled through darkness for the nearest corner. The gloom of this
neighborhood was to his liking, for it offered covering darkness clear around the block. In the next street,
The Shadow would find his opportunity to pick off a few of the scattering marksmen. That is, he would
have but for sudden intervention. Car lights loomed suddenly from a corner; their blaze revealed the
cloaked fighter full in their path. From its manner of arrival, The Shadow took it to be a cover-up car for
the fugitive gunners, and he fired a test shot as he wheeled to the doorway. Guns responded, but the car
didn't act as The Shadow expected.

Instead of bearing down on him; the car made a quick reverse, whipping back around the corner. Out
from shelter, The Shadow headed toward it, expecting a chance to flay the car broadside when it sped
past the crossing, which happened to be a corner of the street in front of Brune's.

But the men in the car were very smart. The driver must have done some quick maneuvering in the
narrow street, for when The Shadow reached the corner, all he saw were taillights whizzing off in the
opposite direction, a full block away.

Instead of risking a fray with The Shadow, the men in the car had left him without a trail. The time that
The Shadow lost in tracking down the car that didn't wait was more than sufficient for the scattering gun
crew to make good their escape the other way.

MEANWHILE, things were happening in the street behind Brune's apartment. Finding that the route was
clear, Bert and Emmart, again in full accord, were coming down the fire escape. At the bottom, Bert
pointed toward a figure that was painfully squirming across to an alley. Emmart nodded when he heard
Bert undertone:

"Wip Jandle."

Together, they took up the trail. It wasn't too easy following Wip. The fellow was showing surprising
speed and skill at dodging from one alley to another. Wip's one handicap was that he had to pause to
rest because of the bullet that he carried. He was carrying something else, the tin box that belonged to
Brune. Bert and Emmart spied it whenever Wip faltered.

Back in Brune's apartment, moving blackness was stretching across the floor. From the doorway of a
little bedroom, a cloaked shape materialized. Grim was The Shadow's low-toned laugh when he viewed
Brune's body, a mirthless token of vengeance meant for men of crime. More, The Shadow's laugh was