"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 113 - Partners Of Peril" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Lamont Cranston was The Shadow!
For a week, he had been aware that Reed Harrington's life was in peril
from some unknown source. He knew from the reports of his agents that
Harrington had changed his residence three times in the course of the last
fortnight.
The Shadow had not yet acted on the information he had gathered, because
there was no definite clue upon which to base a move. The Shadow never acted
without logical reason.
Harrington was already closed in a telephone booth. He was talking in a
low voice. He called the home of Commissioner Weston and swore fretfully when
he was told that Weston was still away. He was unaware that Lamont Cranston
had
left his chair and was quietly listening in the adjoining booth.
"Tell him that Mr. Reed Harrington telephoned about a matter of the
utmost
importance," he whispered, shakily. "I - I prefer not to mention my present
address. I'll call the commissioner back, later. Please ask him to wait at
home
until he hears from me."
Cranston's sharp ears heard the whispered words with crystal clarity. His
face was turned toward the inner side of the booth, so that his ear rested
lightly against the frail connecting panel. Had Harrington noticed him at all,
he would have seen merely the dark, inconspicuous back of a fellow club
member.
He would have seen the receiver pressed lightly to Cranston's right car, as
though he were waiting patiently for a lazy operator.
But Harrington was not even aware that a man was closeted in the booth
alongside his. Fear for his own physical safety drove all other considerations
from his tortured mind.
Death! Midnight was the deadline! In Heaven's name, he thought shakily,
who was behind this nightmare threat - and why? What could he possibly have
done, whom could he have possibly harmed?
He left the Cobalt Club with a quick, anxious stride. The usual row of
taxis was in front under the ornate canopy. Harrington hurried to the head of
the line and jumped in the cab with fumbling haste.


THE cab had barely left the curb when Lamont Cranston appeared. He
quickened his leisurely step as he saw the first cab draw away. Something like
a rueful smile passed across his lips, as he hurried to the second cab.
"Was that Mr. Harrington who just left?"
"Yeah."
"Dash it! I wanted to talk to him. That fool attendant told me he was
down
in the grillroom."
He stepped into the taxi and closed the door with a mildly exasperated
gesture. "Follow him, please. I'll have to talk to him at his home, I
suppose."
"O.K., Mr. Cranston."
The cab got under way. Harrington's taxi was a dark blur down the avenue