"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 094 - Castle of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Harry slammed the door of the cab.

"Thanks for the bob, sir," he said to Geoffrey. "Good luck to you, sir."

The cab swung around an isolated lamp post and the driver slowed to take directions. Harry, sauntering
away, caught a last glimpse of the vehicle. Had the cab not been there, he might have spied a man who
had stepped out from the sidewalk. This was a new arrival who had come up through the fog.

Amakar, the Afghan, had made good speed from the neighborhood of Soho. He had come by
underground, arriving just as the taxi was pulling away from the house. Too late to hear Geoffrey speak
to the driver, Amakar had moved swiftly when he saw the cab stop.

SIDLED UP beside the cab, Amakar peered into the interior. Geoffrey had turned on the dome light. In
the feeble glow, Amakar spied the features that resembled those of his master, Nigel. His own dark
features almost out of sight, Amakar watched and listened while he heard Geoffrey address the driver.

"Why the delay?" queried Geoffrey. "I am in no hurry; but I expect progress."

"Choosin' my way, sir," returned the driver. "There's roads as is better on a blarsted night than this one.
Goin' to Liverpool Street is somethin' as needs a bit o' thinkin', sir.

"As for harfterward, sir, where is it that you'll be wantin' to go? If I knows as where to tyke you, when
you 'ave picked up the parcel -"

"After Liverpool Street," interrupted Geoffrey, "I am proceeding to London docks. To go aboard the
Steamship Borealis. But I shall walk from Liverpool Station, through Aldgate and east to the docks. It
will be preferable to riding at a snail's pace, once I have obtained my package."

"A good plan, sir. I'd bet me last bob that you'd be reachin' the docks afore I'll be comin' with the
luggage. This bloody pea souper is thick by the river -"

"Enough, driver. Choose your route and proceed."

The cab moved onward. Harry Vincent was out of sight in the fog. Amakar, stepping back from the
lighted island, was seen by no one. The Afghan was gulped by the blackness, vanishing like some
fabulous, gigantic jinni that had been summoned elsewhere.

Belgravia was a secluded island in the midst of London; but it was not far from that section to the
jumbled hubbub of Victoria. It was thither that Harry Vincent had headed, knowing that he would find
two requisites - a telephone and an underground station. Despite the shortness of the walk, he had
trouble finding his destination; but at last he emerged from the fog and located his surroundings.

From one of the railway stations, he called the Acropolis Club and spoke to The Shadow. Harry
informed his chief that the Belgravia address had been Geoffrey's. This was information, for Geoffrey's
only known London address had been the club itself.

Then Harry added that Geoffrey was bound for Liverpool Street Station, which formed a terminus of the
London and Northeastern Railway. He mentioned that Geoffrey had gone by cab. Beyond that, Harry
knew nothing else. He had not overheard the final conversation between Geoffrey and the driver.