"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 027 - The Silent Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

bell itself. This was the spot where a summons from Sartain's room might be heard.

Brooks smiled. That plug made a ring impossible. But one quick, deft twist would remove it. That action
would come later.

Brooks also glanced toward a telephone in the corner. There was a switch beneath it. Pressed home, that
switch connected up with the telephone in the studio. It was not quite tight now. A slight press would do
the trick. That, too, would come later. At present, Alfred Sartain was completely isolated from outside
communication.

Brooks glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes was the time allotted. Then these details could be quietly
arranged. Brooks had little work to do. He smiled. With Hunnefield here, his actions would be accounted
for; and Broderick would arrive later. The sooner the better.

Brooks was to gain the pleasure of admitting the expected visitor very shortly. For at the precise moment
that the butler lounged across the living room, a man entered the lobby on the street floor far blow.

This visitor to the apartment building was a tall man who wore a light-brown overcoat and a gray hat. He
carried a large brief case in his hand. He stopped to speak to the doorman. In a quiet monotone, he put
the query:

"Is Mr. Alfred Sartain at home?"

A chance lounger in the lobby caught the question. It was one of "Slips" Harbeck's menтАФan underling of
Larry Ricordo's trusted lieutenant. That man was very anxious to hear the rest of the conversation
between the doorman and the stranger.

"I believe that Mr. Sartain is here," replied the doorman. "I can call the penthouse and tell him that you
have arrived. What is the name, sir?"

"Broderick. Howard Broderick. I have an appointment."

The lounger strolled from the lobby. Howard Broderick was the name of the one person who was to
have uninterrupted entrance to Sartain's domain.

The doorman put through a call. He received word to admit the visitor. He ushered the man with the brief
case to the elevator. A few minutes later, the visitor stepped forth at the entrance to the penthouse. He
rang the bell, and Brooks opened the door.

THE butler bowed and admitted the early arrival. He stared rather closely at the stranger. There was
something about the man's appearance that troubled the false butler. Broderick's face had a cold,
chiseled expression, and his eyes, as they glanced across the room, were firm and keenly observant.

"Mr. Sartain is expecting me."

The visitor's voice chilled Brooks. It also attracted the attention of Hunnefield, who was seated in a chair,
reading. The secretary leaped to his feet and approached the stranger.

"Ah, you are Mr. Broderick?" he questioned. "Mr. Sartain did not expect you so early. You will have to
wait, sir, until he rings for you to be admitted."