"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 017 - The Five Chameleons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

quiver from each blow. Again he faced The Shadow, in the center of the room.
Hawk's pasty face was pitiful. He knew that he could expect no mercy from The Shadow; yet he held
one furtive hope.

"Let me go!" he pleaded. "If you do, I'll tell! Yes, I'll tell what even you don't know! I'll give you the lay
on the biggest game -"

He stopped as The Shadow laughed. The menacing automatic seemed endowed with life as it moved
slowly forward. The glowing eyes were livid. Hawk Forster was learning the menace of The Shadow to
the full.

To The Shadow, Hawk Forster was just another rat of the underworld. Time and again, The Shadow
had trapped creatures of his ilk. They always pleaded for mercy - offered to squeal; to barter with The
Shadow to save their own worthless skins. The Shadow had a way of dealing with them.

"You will squeal?" His voice was a harsh, weird whisper. "Squeal, then! Tell me what you know that I do
not know. Speak!"

The words were a command. They offered no conditions. The Shadow's voice meant doom, with no
escape.

Hawk Forster knew it; but his fear of The Shadow made him speak. Against his will, he squealed, while
the battering at the door continued its mighty tattoo.

"It's a big game!" gasped Hawk. "They've been layin' low until it was ripe. Now it's all set. But before
they start, there's one guy that's due to get his!"

"Be quick!"

The Shadow's command was terse and low as Hawk paused to lick his thick lips and stare in terror
toward the slowly yielding door.

"Dan Antrim" - Forster was gasping what he knew - "Dan Antrim, the lawyer. He's crooked. Mixed up
with the racket. He's a double-crosser! That's why he's goin' to get his. It's comin' from a guy that he
thinks is -"

The words became a terrified squeal as the cowardly gangster saw the door bulge inward under the
impact of a mighty smash. Hawk threw his arms before his face. The Shadow's left hand struck them
down. His burning eyes were close to Hawk's hideous, distorted countenance.

"Who is after Antrim?"

"I'll tell you!" cried Hawk. "A guy I used to know - long ago. He's given me the lay. He's comin' here - to
New York - to get -"

Before the miserable man could continue, the door was lifted bodily from its hinges, and hurled into the
room. It had yielded unexpectedly. As it fell, two men sprawled headlong upon it.

THE SHADOW, never forgetting his purpose here, moved swiftly and silently. In three long, rapid
strides, he was by the window. There, he turned for one quick, parting glance.