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

out one thing which he hadn't discussed with Greug, a thing that concerned the
traitor-spy, Eric Henwood.
If Eric had managed to murder Dick, he would have been smart enough to
build a false trail. That, to Dick's mind, explained the chatter about Rocky
Point with all the sanitarium propaganda. By leaving literature around the
apartment, Eric could have sent the police to a place that didn't count.
Just as a neat blind, Eric had ordered a Pullman berth to Rocky Point in
Dick's name. It meant nothing now, since Eric's body had disappeared along
with
Dick's departure. The fact that it meant nothing, made it valuable. To be
smart
in his own right, Dick could do nothing better than go to the Adirondacks by
the roundabout way of Rocky Point.
So Dick stopped at a ticket window, called for the Pullman reservation
that was waiting in his name, and received it. He jostled a man who was
standing next in line; made a passing apology and hurried in the direction of
the train gate, since he had only a few minutes to make it.
 The man that Dick jostled was bulky, enough to well conceal the slender
person who was waiting just beyond him. In his hurry, Dick didn't even glimpse
the girl who turned away, though she would have found it quite unnecessary.
That girl was Irene Breslon.
As soon as she heard the cry of "All Aboard," the brunette hurried to a
phone booth and made another phone call.
The only person that Irene Breslon would logically be phoning was Leo
Dolbart, the arch-assassin whose squad of notorious Apaches were only too
anxious to make up for past failures where Richard Whitlock - known to them as
Friedrich Von Reichfrid - was concerned!


CHAPTER X

DULL, grey dawn greeted Dick Whitlock when he alighted at Rocky Point. It
was misty, here beside the river, with the fog hanging low over the hills.
It had been an all night trip, because the sleeper had made a lay-over in
order to be picked up by a rambling mail train that served this local line.
The
slow train had stopped everywhere; Rocky Point was proof enough of that,
because
otherwise Dick couldn't see any reason why this station was a stop at all.
The station had a forlorn waiting room, with its ticket window tightly
shut. No agent on duty, no telephone in the place; only a potbellied stove
that
wasn't needed at this season. A mail sack was lying out on the platform,
dumped
there from the train, and Dick could only wait until somebody came along to
pick it up.
Probably the sanitarium had a station wagon that met trains when
customers
were expected; in that case, Dick should have sent word ahead. Still, he had
no