"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 028 - The Shadow's Justice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

blackness wavered and swung away. Heavy blotches faded as the car passed. They seemed like living
things, these shadows. The passenger watched them as he stared over the chauffeur's shoulder.

A bright light gleamed like a beacon through the night. The car swerved and pulled up before a flight of
steps that led to the doorway of a large mansion. The beckoning light was under the sheltering roof that
extended from above that door. Compared to it, the glimmers from the windows of the house seemed
faint and obscure.

The passenger stepped from the sedan and spoke to the chauffeur:

тАЬYou may call for me in one hour, Holland.тАЭ

тАЬYes, Mr. Tracy,тАЭ replied the uniformed man.

The sedan rolled away and left the passenger standing under the sheltering roof. While he waited for an
answer to his ring at the door, Tracy turned toward the steps, and his face was clearly discernible in the
night.

A MAN of medium height, his face firm and aristocratic, this individual made an impressive appearance
as he waited before the closed door. His eyes, keen and perceptive, were staring out into the night,
toward those spots where the sedan's headlights had so recently invoked strange, moving shadows.

All was blackness now. Tracy's eyes saw only mist; his ears heard nothing but the sounds of dripping
water.

The door opened behind his shoulder. Turning, the man entered with the assurance of an expected guest.

Farland Tracy, attorney at law, now stood within the confines of a gloomy hall. The man who admitted
him was standing a few feet away, bowing in courteous greeting.

тАЬAh, Headley,тАЭ said the lawyer. тАЬMr. Boswick is expecting me?тАЭ

тАЬHe is upstairs, sir,тАЭ responded the attendant, in a quiet monotone. тАЬI shall inform him that you are here.тАЭ

Tracy watched Headley walk across the hall and up the stairs. The man's tread was soft and catlike,
quite in contrast to his heavy appearance. The lawyer rubbed his hands thoughtfully and turned his gaze
toward the floor, until the sound of approaching footsteps caused him to glance up.

A young man had entered the hall from a side room. Slight of form, sallow of complexion, and drooping
in appearance, he made an excellent picture of dissipated youth. He was attired in a tuxedo, and in his
loose left hand he held a long holder which contained a lighted cigarette.

тАЬDrew Westling!тАЭ exclaimed Farland Tracy. тАЬHow are you, boy? I haven't seen you for a month!тАЭ

тАЬPerhaps it's as well you haven't,тАЭ drawled Westling, with a sickly grin. тАЬI haven't forgotten the last time. I
hope you don't intend to mention it to the old gentleman.тАЭ

тАЬTo your Uncle Houston?тАЭ quizzed Tracy. Then, in an amiable tone: тАЬNo, Drew. Lawyers usually keep
their clients' affairs to themselves. I am here to discuss business affairs with your uncle. Your name will
not be mentionedтАФthat is, in reference to the matter of which you have just spoken.тАЭ