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

From the moment that news of the first explosion reached the Classic office, the managing editor gave
orders that resembled those of a general whose army is going into battle.

The editorial offices of the tabloid were located in an old, squalid building that was on the verge of
condemnation. The reporters' room was cramped for space. The city editor sat in a corner before a
broken-down desk and gave out assignments to reporters as rapidly as they entered the office.
The clicking of typewriters and the loud telephone conversations caused a continual hubbub.

The Grand Central explosion added to the excitement of the Classic office. Photographers were
dispatched to the new scene of tragedy. Reporters wrote wild rumors linking the two explosions.

Acting on a hunch, one story predicted more bombings. The Columbus Circle explosion fulfilled the
prediction.

Basing its claims on vague inside information gained by its reporters, the Classic predicted a fourth
catastrophe, setting it at half-past one in the afternoon, an hour after the third explosion.

When two o'clock arrived and no news of a fresh calamity came to the Classic office, another sensational
feature was launched by the tabloid.

This was an offer of five thousand dollars reward for information that would lead to the discovery of the
fiends who had started the wave of terror.

Special editions of the Classic were rushed from the presses.

Shortly after three o'clock, a tall, thin man came into the editorial office of the Classic and elbowed his
way between the typewriter desks.

"Hello, Grimes," said the city editor. "What have you got?"

The tall man shrugged his shoulders.

"Is the old man in?" asked Grimes.

"Yes;" replied the city editor.

"Guess I'd better see him," returned Grimes.

He went to the corner door marked "Hardan Raynor, Managing Editor," opened it, and entered.

A short, dark-visaged man was sitting in front of a mahogany desk. His surroundings seemed a marked
contrast to the dilapidated furnishings of the reporters' room.

The man, himself, was a contrast. There was no excitement in his bearing. He was carefully reading the
latest edition of the Classic and he did not look up for several minutes.

Finally he surveyed Grimes with a Napoleonic stare.

Harlan Raynor, managing editor of the Classic, was the directing brain of the most sensational tabloid
newspaper in the world.