"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 290 - Death has Grey Eyes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

closet beside the door to the kitchenette. There Dick found a pair of slippers
for Eric and peeled off his dressing gown so his friend could wear it. Putting
on coat and vest instead, Dick gestured to a pipe that was on the mantelpiece.
"That yours?"
"Why, yes," laughed Eric. "I must have left it here. How do you like the
diggings, Dick?"
"All right, if they weren't haunted."
"Haunted?"
"By all sorts of funny sounds. Maybe they carry through the building, but
I don't see why they should. The walls are thick enough; this is a modern
apartment house."
"Notice anything else?"
"I thought I saw a face, with odd grey eyes. It would have been a
first-class ghost face if I hadn't remembered it from somewhere else."
"Whose was it?"
"I don't know." Sitting down, Dick watched Eric fish in the pockets of
the
dressing gown, then turn to fill his pipe from Dick's humidor. "There are some
things I want to ask you, Eric, but let me take a good look at you first."
Eric nodded as though he understood and made allowances for the vague
mood
of Dick's mind.
One thing was certain to Dick Whitlock, the more he studied Eric Henwood.
This man, with his thin, weather-beaten face, wasn't part of the dream fabric.
He belonged to the part of Dick's later life, the period following the
parachute descent. Though Dick had met Eric only at the prison camp, he hoped
the fellow could help him piece some subsequent experiences.
"Where did they send me?" queried Dick. "After I was shipped from that
prison camp?"
Eric took the pipe from his mouth with his left hand, blew a cloud of
smoke and looked through it, as he asked:
"Don't you know?"
"To a hospital, I suppose," stated Dick, "but I don't remember much about
it."
"How much?"
"Only that I thought I was back in my old mountain lodge, but I couldn't
have been. I met a girl there. Her name was Irene."
A chuckle came from Eric's thin lips.
"That's remembering something, Dick."
"Only I never heard her name," argued Dick. "Not until I met her again
last night, at the Starview Roof."
"Come, come," put in Eric, a trifle annoyed. "Don't tell me some Nazi
nurse would be here in New York."
"She says she is French," returned Dick, "but, she talks like an
American.
Maybe she was a prisoner, too."
"Did she remember you?"
"If she did, she didn't say so. I wish I could recall some names that I
did hear in that place. But I spent most of my time looking into a mirror."
"At what?"