"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 039 - Road of Crime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

you my plans. They won't know where I'm taking them until we're on our way - maybe not until we get
there."

"Good stuff," nodded the big shot. "You're all right, Wellerton. I've got your idea now. You know how to
handle a mob. Keep them guessing."

The conversation ended. Graham Wellerton resumed his chair and lighted a cigarette. King Furzman
applied a match to the cigar which he had been chewing. While neither man was observant, the long
black patch upon the floor drew slowly toward the curtain at the archway. The Shadow, hidden listener
to all that had been said, was retiring into a darkened corner of the next room to await the passage of
another visitor - Wolf Daggert.

Whatever might be said after the third man had arrived, The Shadow would also hear. The foe of crime,
this phantom of the night had come to a spot where crime was in the making.

His presence here a mystery, his knowledge veiled from those who plotted crime, The Shadow had
heard the plans of Graham Wellerton. Now he would listen to the pleas of an unsuccessful crook, when
Wolf Daggert faced the big shot.

The Shadow's presence was a proof that he had had a hand in thwarting crime. That presence also
signified that The Shadow would have much to say ere crime again struck!
 CHAPTER III. THE SHADOW'S PART
GRAHAM WELLERTON and King Furzman looked up as two men entered the room from the
archway. The first arrival was Gouger. The bodyguard kept on and passed through the door at the other
side of the room.

The second man stopped just within the curtains. He looked from King Furzman to Graham Wellerton;
then back from lieutenant to big shot. Without a word, he tossed his hat and coat upon a table and took a
chair.

Wolf Daggert was a crook whose nickname was well chosen. His face was peaked and cunning. His
teeth, which showed between sordid, roughened lips, had a fanglike appearance that was bestial. The
man's manner was one that made an observer expect a snarl at any moment.

With half-clenched fists and ugly, sneering grin, Wolf Daggert turned his pale face toward the other men
as though he expected challenging words. His gray eyes moved restlessly and his whole manner indicated
tense nervousness.

King Furzman eyed Wolf Daggert coldly. Graham Wellerton gazed at the newcomer with an air of
indifference.

In this strained atmosphere, not one of the three men happened to look toward the floor. Hence the trio
failed to see the streak of blackness which was again moving steadily inward from the curtains.

The dark splotch became motionless. Cold, steely eyes were peering from the curtain. The archenemy of
crime was on the watch. The eyes of The Shadow were viewing the scene within King Furzman's
reception room.

"Well," barked Wolf. "You goin' to say somethin'? Let's have it."