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

had remembered them. All Dick had needed was the right perspective and now he
was getting it. Claire's coy but pointed remarks; Jerry's blunter statements,
all had a significance. Things had changed, but so had Dick, or he would have
noticed the difference sooner.
There was something between Jerry and Claire, something they were holding
back. They wanted to exclude Dick, but couldn't - not yet.
Dick's lips tightened grimly. He'd settle that question later with Jerry,
Claire, or both.
Right now, the best plan was to overlook the matter and concentrate on
Irene, since Claire's jealousy - if any - would be feigned. So Dick blandly
offered Irene a cigarette, using his newly active right hand to supply the
light. Over the flame of the lighter, he watched the brown eyes raise to meet
his own. Then:
"I'm sure I've met you somewhere before, Miss Breslon."
"In Paris, perhaps? After the Nazis left?"
"I didn't go there." Dick shook his head. "But possibly you met some
friends of mine. You were singing there, of course -"
 "Not very long." Irene's interruption was hasty. "I was so worried about
some friends who had been stranded on the Riviera during those horrible years.
I went to see them."
"Perhaps that was where we met."
"You mean you went to the Riviera?"
"I'm not quite sure." Dick's smile was very serious. "You see, I'm a bit
hazy on just where I was, and all the things that may have happened to me."
Dick's voice was making a statement, but his eyes were questioning,
hoping
the girl would reveal some forgotten clue. Jerry and Claire, their momentary
indiscretion ended, weren't missing a thing. To them, Irene was obviously a
link in Dick's forgotten or well-guarded past and they were trying to learn
more.
So was Dick Whitlock.
"Maybe we weren't meant to meet," Dick told Irene. "It could be part of a
plan, you know, a great plan. After all, the past doesn't count, except as it
concerns the future."
Even Claire was a bit amazed at the way Dick was rushing things with this
girl. The blonde leaned forward on the table, hoping to glimpse Irene's eyes
and observe their reaction. That in turn was just what Dick was seeking, as
Jerry could tell from across the table.
Only it wasn't the future that counted with Dick except as it concerned
the past. He'd put the statement the other way about, confident that Irene
would understand. Apparently she did, for she nodded emphatically, though for
some reason she turned her eyes away.
Nobody thought to follow the direction of Irene's gaze. If they had,
they'd have noticed two men seated at a table near the broad entrance to the
Starview Roof. Small men, both; one with a little mustache, the other wearing
long sideburns that came to the bottom of his ears.
They were foreign looking, and they looked uncomfortable in their baggy
tuxedoes. Dawdling over their wine glasses, they were watching Irene without
giving the fact away. Her nod was meant for them, for they resumed a
gesticulated conversation the moment they caught it, and in the course of