"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 041 - The Killer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

reached a large post near a light. There his form merged with the darkness. Stationed invisible, The
Shadow could see all that happened within the sphere of flickering illumination.

Cries along the dock. Men were mooring the liner. A gangplank clattered from the side. Sailors
appeared. Their hats bore the wording that named their boat - the steamship Yucatan.

Luggage was coming from the ship. Suitcases and trunks, lettered with identifying labels, were stacked
upon the pier. Customs officials were ready. Passengers appeared upon the gangplank.

THE SHADOW'S piercing eyes were steadily turned toward one stack of luggage that lay beneath a
placard which bore the letter "M." The pile of baggage was no more than a dozen feet from the post
where The Shadow stood. The invisible watcher had chosen this vantage point with definite purpose.

Two men walked into the light. One, his overcoat buttoned tight against the chilling mist, was tall and
stoop-shouldered. His face set beneath the brim of a gray fedora hat, showed him to be an individual of
determination. At the same time, his quick, shrewd glances marked him as one who had the ability to
keep his own plans to himself. Even in the dim light, the man's visage showed a tan that could only have
been gained by long sojourn in southern climes.

The other man who approached the pile of baggage was obviously a Mexican - the servant of the first.
He was short, squat, and placid of manner, but his face showed the crafty steadfastness that betokened
Indian ancestry. The man was a mestizo - one of the inter-racial group that make up the bulk of Mexican
population.

A customs officer approached the pair; simultaneously a ship's officer hurried from the gangplank and
approached the customs man. He offered words of explanation to the government agent.

"This is Mr. Mullrick," said the ship's officer, pointing to the tall man with the buttoned overcoat. "Harland
Mullrick. The Mexican is his servant man, Pascual. All the luggage is together."

The customs officer returned a mumbled reply. He conversed with the ship's officer, then nodded and
began an examination of the baggage. Evidently all had been arranged for Pascual's entry into the United
States.

The examination completed, the customs officer applied the necessary labels. Mullrick's luggage was
loaded on a truck. With Pascual at his heels, the tall man walked along the pier.

The Shadow followed. His fleeting form became a thing invisible as it swerved to the very edge of the
pier and glided along beside the black hulk of the Yucatan.

There were hundreds of eyes upon the ship and the pier, yet not one pair viewed the phantom that
traveled almost through their midst. When The Shadow had reached the bow of the ship, he was ahead
of Mullrick and Pascual. There, against the blackened wall of the passenger room, he swung inward
toward the gate, where Mullrick's baggage was being checked for its customs labels.

The small truck that carried trunks and bags was between The Shadow and the customs checker. As
Mullrick, Pascual, and the official watched a dock worker push the truck through from the pier, The
Shadow, with a stooping glide, swept forward and passed the watchers under cover of the luggage.
Beyond the gate, The Shadow reached an obscure spot among a row of motor trucks.