"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 042 - Mox" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

of its scrawled lines.

He could plainly see the connection between Schuyler Harlew and Peter Greerson. The threat of death
hung over others; Peter Greerson was doubtless one. The inventor had hurried away with packed bags
and folded plans.

He was on his way, unsuspecting, to meet the master plotter who planned his doom!
A watch showed in Lamont Cranston's hand as the tall millionaire stepped into his limousine. Its dial
showed twenty minutes before the midnight hour. A bitter smile appeared upon the thin lipsтАФa smile that
seemed to show keen regret.

For The Shadow knew the penalty of this broken trail. It meant that Peter Greerson had passed beyond
the zone of safety. SomewhereтАФhis present location unknownтАФthe missing inventor was reaching a
rendezvous from which he would not return.

Greerson had not escaped the police. He had merely eluded the protection of The Shadow. It was too
late to save him. But there would be others, perhaps, whose plight would prove equal if intervention did
not come their way. It would be The Shadow's task to save them.

Mox!

The name rested on The Shadow's silent lips. There was the villain whom The Shadow must uncover.
Murder dotted the past career of Mox. Even now, the fiend was about to commit murder unmolested.

The finding of Peter Greerson would uncover the murderer, but the murderer would not be Peter
Greerson. This was The Shadow's finding. Rarely was the master forced to bide his time while murder
was in the making. To-night, however, such was the case.

As the limousine pulled up at the Cobalt Club, Commissioner Weston alighted. Lamont Cranston paused
before he followed. Within the restricting confines of the car, a soft, ominous laugh whispered forth.

It was the laugh of The Shadow; a laugh that foreboded a struggle between this powerful avenger and the
fiend who called himself Mox. Peter Greerson would keep his appointment with death. The midnight hour
was too close to be thwarted.

But Mox, the slayer of Schuyler Harlew, the murderer of victims to whose list Peter Greerson would be
added tonight, would pay for his temerity. Wherever he might be, no matter how strong his citadel, The
Shadow would seek him out.

At midnight, a final victim would be added to the roll that Mox was keeping. Before his fiendish will could
again find its outlet, the hand of The Shadow would intervene.

The laugh of The Shadow died. Lamont Cranston, striding toward the entrance of the Cobalt Club,
overtook Police Commissioner Ralph Weston.

Together, they entered, The Shadow and the official who did not believe that The Shadow existed!

CHAPTER V. THE STROKE OF TWELVE
THE fading laugh of The Shadow! That sinister sound had its echo many miles from Manhattan. It came
in the form of a dying hiss as the locomotive of a heavy train stopped at the darkened platform of a