"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 040 - The Death Triangle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Two flights up a pair of gloomy stairs brought Mitts Cordy to the rear apartment on the third floor. The
gang leader rapped. The door opened. Mitts entered to face a tall, stoop-shouldered individual who gave
a gold-toothed smile of greeting.

"Hello, Sparkles," said the gang leader, as Lorskin shut the door. "Everything all set?"

"You're asking me?" returned Sparkles. "How about the mob?"

"Outside and waiting."

"Good."

THE two men sat down. Mitts Cordy pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to "Sparkles"
Lorskin. The stoop-shouldered man declined. He picked up a pipe from the table beside him.

"This is better," he said. "I'm playing the part of a recluse - an unapproachable chap who doesn't like to
go out. Lives alone, puffs his pipe, and admires his collection of rare gems."

With this statement, Sparkles produced a box from beneath the table. He opened it to display a glittering
array of jewels. Mitts Cordy showed both eagerness and surprise.

"Say, Sparkles!" he exclaimed. "I thought you had fenced all that stuff. What's the idea -"

"Bait," interposed Sparkles. "The longer I keep these gems, the easier they are to sell - without
experiencing difficulties. In the meantime, they have enabled me to gain the envy of certain collectors who
occasionally visit this apartment. I expect one tonight. That is why I wanted you on the job."

"To knock off a jewelry collector?" snorted Mitts. "Say, Sparkles, that don't seem like very much of a
lay, unless -"

"Unless what?" Sparkles smiled as he spoke.

"Unless he's bringing a lot of jewelry with him," added Mitts. "Is that the gag?"

"Partly," returned the pretended collector. "More important, however, is the money which this man may
be carrying. I estimate that it will be in the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars."

"Twenty grand!" Mitts whistled. "I'd bump off a regiment for that dough!"

"This is no regiment," returned Sparkles. "As a matter of fact, the job is an extremely easy one. I expect
the man to appear by nine o'clock, if not before then. You will be surprised when I tell you who he is."

REACHING to the table, Sparkles picked up an old newspaper and displayed the portrait of an elderly
man with a large white beard.

Mitts looked puzzled.

"The old doctor with the Santa Claus whiskers?" he questioned. "You showed me his picture last night,
Sparkles - I thought it was a joke when you told me I might meet him some day."