"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 095 - Death Rides the Skyway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

forgotten in madness. The secretary was pouncing upon Crofton, his first foe.

Crofton lost his grip upon the groggy thug's wrist. He and Danning rolled in a mad grapple. A revolver
sounded a muffled bark as The Shadow sprang forward to enter the close-range combat. Danning
groaned and sank from Crofton's grasp. The groggy invader had shot his own ally. But now he was
rising, that thug, aiming to get Crofton before The Shadow's agent could roll in against him.

An automatic blasted its final stroke. The Shadow's shot singed an inch above Danning's sagging body. It
found the form of the thug who had aimed for Crofton. That would-be murderer sprawled upon the floor
beside Danning's writhing, long-limbed shape.

Durfee had managed to crawl into the study. Sowbry dragged him farther and slammed the door.
Weaponless, these two men had found a place of safety, not realizing that they needed it no longer. Into
the lull that followed came the muffled tones of Sowbry's frantic voice. The servant was calling the police
over the study telephone.

Eyes upward, Danning was coughing incoherent words. The Shadow was close beside the wounded
secretary. Burning eyes caught Danning's glassy gaze.

"Speak!"

THE hissed word was a command. Danning's lips moved; they managed to eject gasped words. Mortally
wounded, the secretary gave the answer to the riddle of his master's absence.

"Mr. Hylap left," gulped Danning. "Left here - a few hours ago. Going - going East. Mountain Pacific -
new train - the Typhoon. He - he - was not followed. Going to - to -"

Strength was spent. Danning's lips twitched; his glazed eyes bulged. The Shadow had gripped the man's
shoulders; he could feel Danning's body sag. The thug's bullet had completed its unintended work.
Danning was dead.

From far out in the night came distant crackles of revolver fire. Fleeing men of crime had encountered the
cordon of Chinese. Shots were being exchanged during flight in the fog.

From somewhere, a siren was delivering its faint whine. Police were already on their way. The Shadow's
gloved fist gripped Miles Crofton's shoulder. In obedience to his chief, the agent followed as The
Shadow led the way through this hallway where frustrated invaders lay silent beside Danning.

LATER, a plane took off from the fog-filled airport. Miles Crofton was at the controls of the swift ship,
rising for high altitude as he chose an eastward course. Visibility would be clear after the plane had
cleared the bay.

The Shadow was aboard, resting silent in the cockpit. He had ordered his agent to pilot the plane; for
Crofton was a skilled aviator, and The Shadow was fatigued from the flight that had brought him to the
Coast. Moreover, The Shadow had work ahead.

His plane was off to overtake the Typhoon, a swift streamlined limited train that had become the pride of
the Mountain Pacific Railroad. Through new flight in the fog, off to the clear atmosphere above the
Sierras, The Shadow was on his way to find Seton Hylap, the man in whose absence crime had struck.