"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 105 - The Yellow Door" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

audible within that hushed room.

The murderer knew that his game was known. He realized why the voice had called him across the
telephone, warning that he must be gone within twenty minutes. Dynoth was but an instrument in a
scheme of gigantic crime. Someone more consequential had foreseen that the murderer might be trailed.

Dynoth remembered that shadowy shape by the station platform. He recalled his earlier impression. He
had been correct; an invisible trailer had followed him to Fanfield.

How much did The Shadow know?

He knew, certainly, that Dynoth had murdered Gildare. But the chances were that The Shadow had
arrived too late to catch any words of Dynoth's telephone call, particularly that identifying statement: "The
Yellow Door."

Dynoth kept his lips compressed.

Ticking seconds were becoming minutes. The Shadow spoke. His words terrified the murderer. There
was a sinister sibilance to the whisper that filled this close-walled room.

"You slew Gildare," spoke The Shadow. "As he died, he gasped your name. He spoke other words, as
well."

Dynoth shuddered. He knew that Gildare could have lived for twenty minutes, in the secluded room
where Dynoth had trapped him. The Shadow had been in Chicago, summoned probably by some news
concerning Gildare's fear of death. Too late to prevent murder, The Shadow had come to New York by
air, arriving before Dynoth. From the time that he had left the Grand Central Terminal, Dynoth had been
trailed.

Down to lower Manhattan; across the ferry; out to suburban New Jersey; here to his own home. The
Shadow had finally closed in upon his prey.

"The other words," pronounced The Shadow, "were these: 'The Yellow Door.'"

Dynoth chewed his lips between the teeth that still spread to clench the hidden capsule. The jacket of that
pill was not soluble. The capsule remained firm and intact between the pressure of the murderer's teeth.

"Speak!" commanded The Shadow. "State the significance of the Yellow Door!"

THE SHADOW was advancing. His eyes bored Dynoth. The murderer's nerve left him; then returned
for a final spasm. Dynoth bit the capsule. He gulped; his lips opened as he delivered a hopeless gasp.

With his gulp, Dynoth had swallowed the capsule.

Only The Shadow could have divined the murderer's action. He knew what Dynoth had done. Fearful
lest he would betray the secret of the Yellow Door, Dynoth had swallowed poison. He had chosen death
rather than face The Shadow.

The downstairs clock had chimed the quarter hour. It was eighteen minutes after eight when Dynoth
gulped the poison dose. He was counting upon the capsule to remove him from life within the next two