"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 078 - The Third Skull" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

not have failed to meet in his presence.

Cardona had overlooked that point entirely. Viewed from The Shadow's perspective, it was of great
consequence. Then, to magnify the matter, came the question of Selwood Royce. Hildrew Parchell had
made a deliberate effort to bring his friend's son into the conference with Wingate and Deseurre.

Though ill almost to the point of helplessness, old Parchell had dispatched Tristram to call Royce. Unless
the old man had wanted Royce present with the others, there would have been no reason for him to have
taken the risk of Tristram's absence. He could have ordered the servant to go out after Wingate had
arrived, if Royce's presence had not been urgent.

Tonight, as The Shadow viewed it, had been important in certain of Hildrew Parchell's plans. Death had
frustrated the old man's wish for a meeting of the three men while he yet lived. Death had struck in the
short time while old Parchell lay unprotected.

This was significant, in spite of the fact that Hildrew Parchell had not had long to live. Moreover, the
strange circumstances of the old man's death - his body on the floor; his bed in flames - were points that
struck home with force.

The Shadow was capitalizing where Joe Cardona had failed. Logically, he was building the detective's
discarded hunch into a case that would have astounded Joe Cardona himself.

A click sounded in The Shadow's sanctum. The bluish light went out. A swish came through the
darkness; then the tones of a weird, sinister laugh. Ghoulish echoes responded; next came the hush of
silence.

The Shadow had departed.

A CREATURE of darkness, The Shadow could travel invisible pathways in the night. Enshrouding gloom
obscured his passage. From the moment that he had left his sanctum, he remained a being unseen,
choosing routes that lay untraceable.

As token of The Shadow's mysterious presence, a manifestation occurred some forty minutes after his
departure from the sanctum. This took place on the street where Hildrew Parchell's residence stood
morose.
Blackness came from out of blackness. It glided momentarily beneath the glow of a street lamp; then
merged with blackness again directly in front of the Parchell home. After that came slow motion at the
doorway of the residence. The front door opened slowly inward.

The Shadow had picked the lock. Closing the door behind him, he advanced through the dully lighted
lower hall, following the same course that Tristram had taken so hurriedly when coming to his master's
rescue.

The Shadow reached the second floor. A light was burning in a room beyond. Tristram, in accordance
with instructions given him by Cardona, had done nothing to disturb the arrangements of Hildrew
Parchell's bedroom. The servant had even left the wall brackets burning.

Stepping in from the darkness of the hall, The Shadow formed a weird figure. Tall, cloaked in black, he
surveyed the death room with burning eyes that peered from beneath the brim of a black slouch hat.