"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 287 - Guardian of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

GUARDIAN OF DEATH
by Maxwell Grant

As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," January 1, 1945.

Two conniving collectors battle for the priceless secret of the
archives... Can Lamont Cranston, alias The Shadow, master the intricate
mechanism of the Winged Figure of Death?


CHAPTER I

LIGHTNING streaked the sky with a jagged flash, and Graydon Towers
mushroomed like an Aladdin's castle at a genii's thunderous call.
The sight was so fantastic that Harry Vincent still couldn't believe it
when he flung his arm across his eyes. The glare had left an after image of a
vivid object against a blackened background, a lurid collection of bloody
yellow turrets fashioned by some architect whose nightmares must have been his
guiding talent.
Smashing thunder delivered a deluge of rain that pelted the top of
Harry's
halted coupe and licked in through the crevices of the tight-closed windows.
Guardedly, Harry opened his eyes and blinked as another belt of lightning
slashed the horizon. The Towers itself blocked off most of this zigzag dazzle
and Harry saw that the edifice was as real as his imagination had proclaimed.
Roughly, Graydon Towers was a chunky pile rising like an irregular
pyramid, three stories high, or more, if the various towers were included. The
whole motif was square, more on the order of a French chateau than an English
castle, though there was a resemblance to both. This wasn't strange
considering
the varied tastes of Gifford Graydon, the strange man who had built the stone
monstrosity and died within its walls a quarter-century ago.
Without doubt this was Graydon Towers, for there could be no other
mansion
of similar size along this isolated countryside. Besides, the pillars of the
great stone gate by which Harry had drawn his car for shelter, bore the
stately
gryphons which old Graydon had borrowed from some heraldic source to form a
synthetic coat-of-arms.
It would have taken a gryphon in full wing to clear the huge wrought-iron
gates that barred the private driveway leading to the Towers. But the bars
were
wide enough for human passage and that fact enticed Harry from his car,
despite
the fury of the rain.
The storm was just the excuse that Harry needed for a visit to the
Towers.
If he could find the front of the place and bang on the door, Harry could
plead
admittance on the claim that the sudden rain had stalled his motor. The