"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 074 - Bells of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Rosling strolled from the smoking room, lurching with the roll of the ship. The others watched his
departure. Messler shook his head.
"Some people get very little from life," observed the portly man. "That fellow Rosling is one of them. He's
not even a good loser in a card game. Well - we meet a lot of his type.

"I like to keep up acquaintanceships that are worthwhile. Now that Rosling has left us, let me extend an
invitation to you two gentlemen. You have heard me speak about the jewels that I acquired in India.
Probably you would like to see them."

MESSLER paused to look from Claverly to Cranston. The former showed only mild interest; the latter
was impassive. Messler chuckled at this indifference. It pleased him.

"On Thursday night," declared Messler, "I expect to invite a few chosen friends to my home on Riverside
Drive. They will have the opportunity of viewing the gems. I should like to have both of you among the
guests. Can I count on that pleasure?"

Claverly frowned as he lighted a cigarette. He was considering the invitation, glancing toward the ceiling
as he flicked his match. Finally, he nodded.

"I'm due in Torburg," he said, "but I can probably arrange to stay a few days in New York. I'd like to
look about town before I leave. I'll call my father's lawyer by long distance, to tell him that I am detained.
Yes, Messler, I can be there on Thursday."

"And you, Cranston?" inquired Messler.

"Suppose I call you," responded Cranston. "I am not yet sure of my plans. I am contemplating a trip to
Patagonia, which may offer some of the adventure that I failed to find in Africa. But it will probably be
necessary for me to remain in New York at least two weeks."

"I think I can count on you, then," decided Messler. He arose and Cranston copied his example. "Good
night, gentlemen. Don't be surprised if you see a squad of police when you dock. They will merely be
detailed to protect my jewels."

Claverly was still seated when the others left the smoking room. The suave young man was finishing his
cigarette. He watched Messler waddle from the room. He saw Cranston follow, a few moments later.

Unlike Rosling and Messler, Cranston did not experience trouble from the rolling of the ship. Across the
smoking room, he caught his balance with each lurch. The same was true when he reached the
passageway.

Tall, sweeping in stride, this traveler from Africa moved as steadily as if he had been walking on solid
ground. He descended a stairway, followed another passage, and paused at the door of a first-class
cabin. He unlocked the barrier and entered the darkened room.

There was a click as Cranston drew the cord of a table lamp. His tall form showed as a dim outline just
beyond the range of light. The shaded illumination revealed him stooping above a bag that rested on a
rack.

Black garments came into view. A cloak swished over shoulders. A broad-brimmed slouch hat settled
upon Cranston's head. Then came a soft, whispered laugh as the transformation was completed.