"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 033 - The Living Joss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

continued to the next turn. Swinging at a sharp angle, the man came into view of a bizarre scene that
seemed like a magical transformation from the sordid surroundings which he had just left.

The wayfarer was approaching the outskirts of New York's Chinatown. A city within a city, this quaint
district had all the semblance of an Oriental metropolis in miniature.

The hovering fog added to the picturesque glow of lighted doors and windows. The curving street led on
toward a brilliant zone which might well have been a portion of old Shanghai. Yellow faces peered from
shops. Corner loungers, despite their American clothes, proved to be Chinese.

A PLEASED, knowing smile appeared upon the stroller's lips. The sallow-complexioned man seemed to
find a familiar interest in his new surroundings. His shifting eyes noted the features of solemn-faced
Celestials. Still smoking his cigarette, the man was noting the expressions of yellow faces with an
observation that denoted understanding.

The visitor's shifting gaze noted more than those who passed him on the street. His shrewd eyes glanced
into Oriental shops, into ground-floor eating rooms, where Chinamen were gibbering as they manipulated
chopsticks over bowls of rice.

At times the stroller paused, catching words that he heard uttered; then he continued onward into
Chinatown.

He reached the corner of Mott and Pell Streets, that busy center in the heart of the Chinese district.
Here, his eyes roved while his hands inserted a new cigarette into the holder.

The man looked up toward a lighted balcony high above the street - the reputed headquarters of a
Chinese tong. Then his steadying gaze centered itself upon the many yellow faces that were passing.

Two Chinamen walked by, engaged in low discussion between themselves. The sallow-faced man
watched them with narrowing gaze. He strolled after them as they continued up one thoroughfare.

The Orientals, clad in American garments, did not notice the man behind them. They turned into a side
street. The sallow-faced man paused to light his cigarette, then again followed.

The new thoroughfare was nothing more than a dingy alley, lined by blank walls, with occasional obscure
shops. A single light, jutting from a wall, indicated a restaurant about a hundred feet ahead. This was
obviously the destination of the conversing Chinamen.

So intent, however, was the sallow-faced man that he paid no attention to anything other than the men
just ahead of him. He did not notice that there was someone else going in the same direction, but on the
other side of the street. In fact, he could scarcely have seen this new personage, for the stranger's
presence was barely visible.

A tall, moving form that had a human shape; a weird phantom of the night - this was all that indicated the
one who was taking a course parallel to the Chinamen and their follower.

More apparent, indeed, than the shape which caused it, was a long, grotesque shadow that moved upon
the opposite sidewalk. A silhouetted blotch that kept pace with the Chinamen and the man behind them;
this was the chief manifestation of the hidden being who had entered the odd picture.
The Chinamen stopped at the light and went into the obscure restaurant. This consisted of a fair-sized