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

brief statements from the former owner concerning Barton Modbury, the diamond king who had bought
the old castle that stood far from London.

In picturing the coming trail, The Shadow had seen Chiswold Castle as a possible goal for men of crime.
That was why he had deputed Harry Vincent to the task of learning all he could concerning Geoffrey
Chiswold.

CHAPTER III. TWISTED TRAILS
THE SHADOW had expected Geoffrey Chiswold's stay to be a short one at the Acropolis Club. His
calculation was correct. Within twenty minutes after his arrival, Geoffrey made his departure.

When Geoffrey Chiswold stepped from the Acropolis Club, Harry spotted him immediately.

He took up the trail. An easy one, at first, for Geoffrey's footsteps were a half shuffle from the sidewalk.
As the trail continued, Harry allowed more leeway. At times, he loitered, then made swifter pace to draw
close to his quarry. Guided by sound, Harry gained confidence, except when other passers added their
gaits to Geoffrey's.

Then came the incident that threw Harry off the trail. They had passed a side thoroughfare where Harry
had been out of touch with the footsteps. As Harry closed in again, he saw the blurred light from a
restaurant window, a place which offered him a chance to check upon the trail. He closed in upon the
man whose footsteps he could hear. At the lighted spot, Harry stopped dead short.

He had caught sight of his quarry, but the man was no longer Geoffrey Chiswold. Though Harry could
only see his back, he knew that the man was the wrong one. Footsteps had been deceiving; the light
proved the fact. The man just ahead of Harry was not wearing a gray topcoat and Derby hat. Instead, he
was attired in khaki coat and soft hat. Moreover, he had neither cane nor gloves.

Where had the trail been lost?

Harry could think of but one logical spot; the last street that they had passed. Turning, The Shadow's
agent made as much haste as possible in the opposite direction. He still had hope to pick up the lost trail.
Odd circumstance had tricked Harry Vincent. The other was the man who looked like Geoffrey
Chiswold, a fact that Harry had not discerned by the lights of the restaurant, for he had seen the man's
back and not his face. The chief deception lay in the fact that the man who intervened was walking in
exactly the same fashion as Geoffrey. Harry had taken the second man's footsteps for the first.

UP ahead, Geoffrey Chiswold had maintained his pace. As he continued, he became conscious of a
sound behind him; one that resembled an echo. He paused by a doorway and listened. The shuffling echo
sounded from the corner; then stopped.

His right hand clutching his walking stick, Geoffrey edged back toward the light. He fancied that he heard
sounds creeping toward him from the fog. He caught a momentary glimpse of a stocky form. Swinging
the cane, Geoffrey bounded forward. As he did, the other man sprang from the opposite direction.

They met in the lighted patch. A khaki-colored arm shot forward and caught Geoffrey's wrist. As the
young man writhed, unable to swing his cane, he came face to face with his antagonist. Geoffrey's
struggle ceased. His lips phrased a name of recognition:

"Nigel!"