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

and Cranston leaned forward.
"Oh, by the way, you'd better keep that cab of his in sight. I've
forgotten where Harrington lives, he's moved to some new address. Just make
sure you don't lose track of him, eh?"
He chuckled good-humoredly. "A rather amusing situation. Makes me feel
almost like a detective."
The driver laughed at the thought of the tall, immaculately dressed and
rather peaceful Mr. Cranston as a detective.
"I don't think crook-chasing would appeal to a gentlemen like you, sir."
"No," Cranston smiled. "I suppose not."
He leaned back, apparently bored at the whole business. But his profile
was bent forward so that he could survey the dark avenue ahead and observe the
course of the cab he was following. Traffic weaved in and out between pursuer
and pursued. But the thought of a generous tip from his swanky fare kept
Cranston's chauffeur on the alert.
Suddenly Cranston saw something that stiffened him on his seat and
brought
a quick tension into his narrowed eyes. Some one else was interested in the
movements of the furtive Mr. Harrington to-night! A small blue sedan seemed to
be keeping rather close to the rear of the speeding cab ahead.
As the cab and the blue sedan passed under a street lamp, Cranston saw
that there were two men in the sedan, but it was impossible to distinguish
them
clearly.
From the fact that Harrington's cab made no effort to increase its pace,
Cranston was certain that the fleeing man was unaware of any surveillance.
Taxi
and sedan passed a green traffic light - which immediately, to the annoyance
of
Cranston's chauffeur, changed to red.
"Nerts!" the hacker growled. "We're gonna lose Mr. Harrington, sir."
But his fare smiled softly. "It's all right. You've earned your tip. I
notice that the cab has stopped at that tall apartment midway through the next
block. You've done excellently."
As Cranston spoke, he was leaning forward, his eyes on the blue sedan. It
had slowed up as Harrington's taxi slid to a halt at the curb. Now it
increased
its pace and continued down the dark avenue. It turned a corner and vanished.
"I'll get out here," Cranston said, suddenly.
He paid off his driver and added a pleasant tip, a sum expected from him
as the wealthy and generous Lamont Cranston. A moment later, he had crossed
the
street on foot and was approaching the entrance of the tall apartment house
into
which Reed Harrington had hurried with a quick step.


CRANSTON'S eyes remained on the corner beyond, rather than the entrance
of
the building itself. He rather expected some one to appear around that corner