"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 083 - Man from Scotland Yard" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

THE MAN FROM SCOTLAND YARD
Maxwell Grant
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? CHAPTER I. TRAILS CONVERGE
? CHAPTER II. ON THE WATERFRONT
? CHAPTER III. THE RAID
? CHAPTER IV. THE LOST TRAIL
? CHAPTER V. MEN IN THE DARK
? CHAPTER VI. HOPE IN THE NIGHT
? CHAPTER VII. THE RESCUE
? CHAPTER VIII. ABOARD AND ASHORE
? CHAPTER IX. MR. JARVIS KNIGHT
? CHAPTER X. SILVER RUPEES
? CHAPTER XI. AT THE CAPITAL
? CHAPTER XII. FROM THE STRONG ROOM
? CHAPTER XIII. CADY REPORTS
? CHAPTER XIV. THE CHANCE CLUE
? CHAPTER XV. THREE IN A ROW
? CHAPTER XVI. CRIME FORESEEN
? CHAPTER XVII. IN THE STRONG ROOM
? CHAPTER XVIII. THE FINAL WORD
? CHAPTER XIX. A MASTER'S DOOM
? CHAPTER XX. FACTS OF THE PAST

CHAPTER I. TRAILS CONVERGE
NIGHT-THICKENED fog lay heavy above Manhattan. Grimy, hazy blackness held pall above the great
metropolis. City lights were smothered in the mist.

That shroud which dampened the brilliant districts held greater grip upon areas that were ordinarily
gloomy after dark.

Near the waterfront, the grimy blanket had full reign. Steaming surges of mist were rising from the river,
clinging to piling and piers, rolling in upon the dim-lit thoroughfares. Basso blasts of steamship whistles
blared in from the water, accompanied by the staccato shrills of tugboats.

Such sounds alone cleaved the fog laden air. Other noises, clicking footsteps of passers, rumbles of
occasional trucks, were muffled by the thickness. People themselves were swallowed by the mist. Where
feeble lights showed dim areas, forms came into view, then disappeared.

Humans had become ghosts down by the river. Wafted in from the bay, the fog had taken a liking to the
land. Literally, it was enveloping Manhattan like a monster from the deep, creeping forward to a total
triumph that would end only when rising winds came to dispel it.
A muffled wayfarer was tramping along a street that led in from the river. The night was not cold;
dampness could be the only excuse for his upturned coat collar. Yet long, hunched shoulders and
down-turned face were indications of a menace other than the fog.

It was plain that the tramping man wanted to escape recognition. His gait betrayed the fact; his choice of