"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 008 - The Black Master" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Before the hurrying man had moved ten feet along the street, a terrific explosion occurred. Where three
men had been momentarily grouped, none remained.

All along the block lay persons who were thrown to the sidewalks. Men were staggering, trying to
recover from the mighty concussion which had shaken them.

A gaping hole appeared in the front of the building on the right - a hole from which ran a series of
irregular cracks. A deluge of debris poured from the building across the way. Helpless persons were
buried amid loose stone and mortar.

From the stricken area came a cloud of smokelike dust. Then followed an ominous silence that seemed
to last for endless seconds. Out of the silence came the cries of the victims.

Crowds began to gather at the ends of the block. As though by prearrangement, uniformed policemen
appeared to take control. They made their way to the spot where the explosion had occurred.

With disregard of danger, they began their work of rescue. While they labored, the clang of bells
approached. With the amazing speed that characterizes the working of Manhattan's machinery, rescue
squads were rushing to the scene.

Patrols and ambulances arrived with fire trucks. Bodies of both living and dead were carried away.
Groups of police blocked off the district.

Then came reporters. Within thirty minutes after the catastrophe, mighty presses were grinding out the
hideous details of the unexpected tragedy. Five men were known to be dead; the number of the injured
was a matter of conjecture.

One hour after Lower Manhattan had been rocked by the explosion, eager persons were buying
newspapers in Grand Central Station.

Only the meager details of the catastrophe were available; yet it had already become the sole topic of
conversation in the great terminal.

A man entered one of the small cigar stores near the main concourse and nodded to the clerk. He was
reading a newspaper as he entered. He tucked it under his arm and approached the cigar case.

The clerk came over and methodically removed a box of cigars. The newcomer was one of his hundreds
of regular customers. The clerk knew the brand he smoked.

"Big news today," remarked the clerk, indicating the newspaper under the customer's arm.

"Yes," came the reply. "Terrible! They don't know much about it yet."

"The next editions will be out soon," said the clerk. "They'll have a big account then. Those reporters
work fast, you know."

The customer drew a wallet from his inside coat pocket. He reached forward to pluck five cigars from
the box that lay upon the counter. As his fingers slipped on the outside wrappings, the clerk politely
raised the box.