"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 022 - The Creeping Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

returned to the writing desk and again pondered.

Although this quiet-faced man appeared neither worried nor hasty, his keen concentration showed that he
was deep in thought, reviewing certain events with the utmost care.

He seemed oblivious to his surroundings, entirely ignorant of the fact that his presence in New York had
awakened the interest of so strange a being as The Shadow.

For the very name of The Shadow was synonymous with mystery. He and those who served him were
the sworn enemies of crime and evil. Where danger and death lurked, there did the hand of The Shadow
appear to thwart and reveal the schemes of insidious monsters!

Again, Jerry Fitzroy returned to his coat. He brought out a pipe and a tobacco pouch, filled the pipe, and
lighted it. He stared from the window, puffing; then, his plans apparently completed, he laid the pipe upon
the desk and drew open the drawer.

Fitzroy picked up a sheet of hotel stationery. As he started to draw the paper from the drawer, it slipped
from his fingers. He gripped the sheet again, and laid it on the table. He reached for the pen. It dropped
from his grasp as he placed it with the paper.

The man's forehead furrowed in a puzzled manner as he looked at his left hand and slowly moved the
fingers. Fitzroy laughed, in a hollow manner. He raised the pen in his right hand, and dipped it in an
inkwell. He stared at his right hand. It, too, seemed numb.

Shrugging his shoulders, Fitzroy attempted to write.

Now his puzzlement became concern. The letters that he scrawled upon the paper were illegible. He
dropped the pen and looked at both hands. He tried to move his fingers. He failed.

Shaking his wrists, Fitzroy attempted to restore normal action to his hands. The shaking became
mechanical. The wrists, too, were rigid!

The man's forearms pumped up and down like pistons. They slowly lost their motion. With hands
helpless upon his knees, Fitzroy gasped and moved his shoulders up and down, a look of horror clouding
his features. The motion of the shoulders ended.

With a hoarse cry, Fitzroy attempted to rise from his chair. His body strained under the effort. He gained
his feet and tottered; then, as his legs succumbed, Fitzroy fell headlong upon the desk!

Directly before his terror-stricken eyes lay the telephone. With panic overcoming him. Fitzroy swung his
head and knocked the instrument on its side. The receiver fell loose from the hook.

"Help me"тАФFitzroy's words were blurtedтАФ"quicklyтАФa doctor! Room 1414 тАФI may be dying!"

With that, the man lost his balance and rolled away from the desk, falling heavily upon the floor. He lay
there, gasping, his head moving from side to side, his eyes bulging with horror.

MINUTES were moving by. The form on the floor had gained the rigidity of a corpseтАФall but the head,
which moved from side to side with the monotonous motion of a pendulum.