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

extensively during his long and useful life, but he has never encountered any of those unavoidable
situations of which you speak. Integrity! You would do well to make it your watchword, Doctor."

It was David Moultrie who took up cudgels for the accused physician, but Doctor Zelka calmly waved
the man down. Turning to Blaine Goodall, Zelka put a quiet question.

"How soon," he asked, "will you be forced to make the announcement of which you speak?"

"Two weeks from tonight," returned Goodall. "That is the longest that I can wait."

"That will be sufficient," decided Zelka. "Let us part friends, gentlemen. We will give Mr. Hartnett a
chance to confer again with Mr. Schofield. Perhaps, with sober consideration, they will reverse their
decision. If they do, Mr. Hartnett can make the fact known to Mr. Goodall, who, in turn, can inform
Moultrie and myself. Of course, should we come to the agreement which Moultrie and I desire -"

"I'll hold off the announcement indefinitely," agreed Goodall, "provided that I know the deal is going
through. But failure to get together throws me back to my duty to the Huxley Corporation."

"I understand," nodded Zelka, with a smile. "Come, Moultrie. We are leaving."

The physician extended his hand as a token of no ill feeling toward Westley Hartnett. The lawyer
accepted it.

"Sorry about the personalities, Doctor Zelka," he said. "But so far as the arrangement is concerned, I can
tell you now that none will be effected."

"Think it over," urged Zelka, shaking hands with old Barton Schofield. It was impossible to tell whether
his remark was made to the lawyer or to the retired banker.

Following Zelka's example, David Moultrie shook hands all around. The two men left the room. Blaine
Goodall remarked that he must be leaving, also. Westley Hartnett summoned a servant; old Barton
Schofield arose wearily and started upstairs, leaning upon the attendant. The old banker always retired
early in the evening.

ONE window shade gave a feeble flutter as the sash beyond it was silently lowered. Outside the house, a
phantom figure moved strangely through the darkness. It traveled swiftly across the blackened lawn, and
reached a coupe that was parked on a secluded lane beside Barton Schofield's Long Island mansion.

Another coupe shot by the entrance of the lane. David Moultrie and Doctor Ward Zelka were departing
in the former's car. Zelka had come here by taxi; Moultrie was taking him back to the city.

The hidden coupe moved. It swung into the road, and its dim lights glimmered. Far behind, it took up the
trail of the distant tail light which indicated Moultrie's car.

A laugh sounded in the darkness of the following automobile. A sinister sound, that mirth caused a hollow
echo within the confines of the coupe.

The Shadow, unseen, unknown, had listened well tonight. He had heard the schemes of two conniving
men; and he had also heard the answer which had blocked their plans.