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

"Better not go through that way, sir," informed the officer. "There are prowlers about. They may be
footpads, for aught that we have learned."

"Thank you, officer."

THE man who spoke was nattily attired. He was wearing a light-gray topcoat and a trim bowler hat. His
face showed him to be no more than thirty years; and his features carried an aristocratic mark. High
cheek bones, sharp nose and gray eyes that were dreary despite their friendly gaze. The bobby took
mental note of that distinctive countenance.

"It's a bad night, sir," reminded the officer.

The young man nodded. He was nervous as he tightened the fawn-colored gloves that he was wearing.
Then his jauntiness returned; he drew a light walking stick from beneath his elbow and swung it rakishly
to indicate that he had at least a slight measure of protection should he encounter danger.

"I am going to the Acropolis Club, near St. James Street," he told the bobby. "Since I can reach there by
continuing along Piccadilly to my turning point, I shall do so. Good evening, officer."

Fog swallowed the well-dressed young man as he swaggered along his way. The bobby resumed a
short-paced patrol.

New footsteps clicked. A well-dressed young man came into the hazy light. The officer surveyed a
clean-cut face; then took note of the arrival's attire. This passer stopped of his own volition. He
addressed the bobby in American fashion.

"Hello, officer," he said, with a friendly smile. "I'm lost in this plagued fog. I wonder if you could give me
directions?"

"Certainly, sir," acknowledged the bobby, "but first I must warn you to be careful hereabouts. There have
been suspicious lurkers in this neighborhood."

"The newspapers have agreed upon that," laughed the American. "They claim that the mysterious burglars
have accumulated everything that is worthwhile taking in this section and others. Rather an exaggeration,
to my way of thinking."

"Quite right you are, sir." Ending his discussion of recent crime, the bobby changed the subject. "About
your directions, sir. You are in Piccadilly, walking westward. What destination have you chosen, sir?"

"I should like to reach the Acropolis Club, in St. James Street."

THE officer stared, momentarily dumfounded by the coincidence. Then, politely, he covered his surprise
and gave careful directions. The American set out upon the route that the previous man had taken.

Another bobby approached from the side street. He came with information from the restricted area.

"We have scoured the neighborhood," he stated. "The rogues have scattered back to shelter. The orders
to warn wayfarers are ended."