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

The door of the wardrobe was open. Claverly hung the garments on a coat hanger and slammed the door
as he turned away to remove his necktie and collar. The door of the wardrobe bounced open: the roll of
the ship swung it toward the wall. As Claverly turned, he saw the door hanging there as if glued in
position.

The ship lurched; the door wavered. It still remained open. Claverly shrugged his shoulders. He
wondered why the door did not swing shut again, but he had no time for such trifles. He gathered up the
winnings that lay on the table and stuffed the bills in his pocket. Hardly had he done so before a cautious
knock sounded at the door of the cabin. Claverly strode over and opened the door.

Rosling entered. The sharp-faced man glowered as he closed the door behind him. He shot the bolt; then
looked at Claverly, who was smiling in sophisticated fashion.

"Well?" growled Rosling, by way of query, "what did you find out?"

"Not much," responded Claverly, as he lighted a cigarette. "Messler left shortly after you did."

"Yeah?" Rosling's voice was gruff. "Then how about that dough I was hooked for."

"Hooked?" quizzed Claverly. "I don't like the word, Rosling. It's a poor way for a fellow to talk. The fault
was your own. You don't know how to play cards."

"Maybe I don't," retorted Rosling, "but a guy that can slide the pasteboards the way you do - well, a guy
like you don't need luck. You're a card sharp; there's no use arguing that point. Come on. Divvy."

"That's not in our arrangements."

"No? Well, it wasn't arranged for you to fool around and get nowhere with Messler."

CLAVERLY smiled. He blew a cloud of smoke and eyed Rosling narrowly. The door of the wardrobe
was still open and wavering with each pitch of the ship. Claverly did not notice it; nor did Rosling.

"Let's get things straight, Rosling," suggested Claverly, in a tone that had a smooth purr. "You and I met
aboard this steam ship - strangers until we had left Liverpool - and we made an acquaintanceship. Am I
right?"

"Yeah."

"Last night" - Claverly seemed reminiscent - "you paid me an unexpected visit in this cabin. On that
occasion, you were equipped with a businesslike revolver. You said you had come to demand a
showdown. I did you the honor of thinking you were a detective."

"Well - maybe I look like one."

"You didn't appear dumb enough."

"Lay off the hokum. Listen here, Claverly; we came to an agreement about -"

"I am about to mention that point, Rosling. I merely want to make the details plain before we continue.
Last night, after I withdrew my theory that you were a detective, you insisted that I was a crook. You