"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 090 - The Python" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

The sallow-faced man recognized the knock. With a clumpy stride, he crossed the room and drew a
bolt. His stocky figure backed away. A tall, stoop-shouldered man entered the room and gave an ugly
grin of greeting. The newcomer, too, was a sallow, hard-faced ruffian. The pockmarks on his long-jawed
countenance were a match for the stocky man's unsightly scar.

"Hello, Bevo," growled the stocky man. "I've been waiting for you. Thought you'd be here soon. Doc
said he knew where he could get hold of you."

"Doc called me," returned the stoop-shouldered rowdy. "Told me to chase up here in a hurry, Chuck.
Said you was -"

Bevo paused. Looking past "Chuck," he had seen the figure on the cot. His glary eyes widened as they
noted the unconscious man's fastidious attire.

"Say!" exclaimed Bevo. "Doc told me you was watching some bloke; but I figured it was some stoolie
you'd grabbed. Pipe the soup and fish this bird's wearing!"

"Class, ain't it?" queried Chuck, his thick lips leering. "Ritzy-looking, ain't he?"

"Sure is. Say - who is this mug?"

"The Shadow!"

CHUCK gaped. For a moment, his features froze as he heard Bevo's statement. Then, with a forced
laugh, the stooped-shouldered rogue faced his companion.

"Lay off the hooey, Bevo," insisted Chuck. "It ain't good business, talking about The Shadow. Even when
you're kidding."

"I'm not kidding," retorted Chuck. "Say - do you think Doc would want two of us to watch a guy that's
lying here cold? A guy that Doc's loaded up with dope, to keep him that way? He wouldn't - not unless it
was The Shadow."

Bevo pondered, still doubting. Chuck delivered an ugly laugh; then reached underneath the cot and
dragged forth a dress-suitcase. He yanked the top upward and pulled out a mass of cloth. Bevo stared,
almost aghast, as he saw a black cloak with crimson lining.

"Lamp this," snorted Chuck. "And take a look at that slouch hat laying there. Get an eyeful of them
smoke-wagons. Four of 'em there in the suitcase. Heft 'em."

"Whew! What gats!" Bevo, stooping, was hoisting two huge automatics from the suitcase. He replaced
the guns to examine a second brace of similar weapons.

"Say - there is only one guy who'd want to handle these rods. Boy! A .45 like this baby" - he paused to
test a single weapon - "a gat like this could blow a hole through a stone wall!"

"Maybe," corrected Chuck. "Maybe not. Anyway, this mug's The Shadow. Lamp this ring he's wearing,
Bevo."
Chuck raised a limp arm from the prisoner's side. Bevo stared warily at a resplendent gem that