"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 050 - The Green Box" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Legrand could scarcely mumble. "It won't be long before you're out. I'll have what you want -"

The man who called himself Sam Fulwell stopped him abruptly. Again he assumed a listening attitude. His
face was grim and tense. His eyes centered on the moonlight that showed the outline of the cell window.
They remained focused there, staring.

The square of light had changed. Across a corner near the cell door lay a shrouding edge of blackness
that broke the luminous space. The firm-faced man stared toward the door. Seeing nothing, he gazed at
the window. The moonlight showed in full intensity. There was nothing there to block its path.

Again the keen eyes wandered to the floor. The blackness that obscured a portion of the moonlight was
still in evidence. To the startled gaze that viewed it, the patch of darkness seemed grotesquely like a
human silhouette! Yet there was no one at the door of the cell - no one that the observant prisoner could
see.

"Sammy!" Legrand's wheezy whisper bore an anxious note. "Sammy! Are you sure I told - I told you all
that you need to know? If you're not sure about -"

"Sh-h!" The whisper was fervent from above.

"What's the matter?" wheezed Legrand. "There's nobody coming, Sammy. This is the last chance I'll have
to talk to you."

"Keep quiet, Ferris." The order was fierce. "I know everything. Don't say another word."

"But maybe I forgot something. You only know what I've told you. You've got to listen, Sammy -"

"Sh-h!"

Sammy's eyes were still glued to the unmoving patch of blackness. Despite its lack of motion, that splotch
might indicate a living presence. The man in the bunk above was anxious to hush his cellmate.

Legrand, in turn, was quite as anxious to proceed. His condition was delirious. His fevered mind was
seeking to deliver its old message through dried lips. Mumbling words came from the lower bunk. Again,
a warning whisper sounded from above. It would have failed, but for a stroke of fortune.

Click - click - click

The guard was returning to the cellroom.

Legrand, like Sammy, heard the pacing footsteps. With a weary sigh, the peaked man in the lower bunk
rolled over on his side and lay silent. Despite his fevered brain, he knew the meaning of the clicks and
followed the rule that he had learned - that of silence when the guard approached.

THE guard was slow on this trip. His clicking steps were interrupted as he stopped at different cells.
They came closer; his bulky form blocked out the feeble light from the central room. His flashlight
roamed through the cell where Ferris Legrand and his fellow prisoner were stationed.

The beams showed the man called Sammy. He was raised upon one elbow. His eyes had been staring at
that motionless patch upon the floor. Now they met the flashlight's glare, and Sammy's left hand rose.