"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 116 - Intimidation,Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

evenings."
"He wasn't going into the bank. He wanted the office building. Had to get
there by eight o'clock. Wonder what he wants in there?"


THE taxi driver's query was at that moment being answered. Ludwig Meldon
had reached the third floor of the office building. He was standing outside an
office, where a frosted door bore the legend:
 E. G. LENNING
Notary Public

The office was lighted; its glow showed through the frosted pane.
Nevertheless, Meldon knocked. His rap, moreover, was cautious.
The knocks brought no response. Nervously, Meldon opened the door and
stepped into the office. Except for its furniture, the room was empty. Meldon
looked puzzled; he had expected to find the notary.
The security of the lighted office curbed Meldon's nervousness. Chewing
his lips, the pallid man looked about. He noted two inner doors; one, he knew,
opened into a closet. The other door was behind Lenning's desk; it led into an
adjoining office that belonged to another tenant. Meldon stepped past the
desk,
tried the door and found it locked. He looked relieved.
In fact, Meldon had steadied sufficiently to study his surroundings. He
observed a typewriter in which two sheets of paper had been inserted, with a
carbon between. Though the upper page was blank, Meldon took this as a sign
that Lenning would return shortly. He seated himself at the desk and pulled
open a drawer on the right.
The first thing that Meldon saw was a stenographer's pad that bore a
shorthand scrawl. Though not familiar with shorthand, Meldon recognized these
particular notes by the book that contained them. They were statements that he
himself had dictated to Lenning.
Lifting the notes from the drawer, Meldon placed them on the desk. As he
did; his eye caught a glitter from the drawer. Lying there was a .32 revolver.
For a moment, Meldon stretched his shaky hand toward the weapon; then
withdrew and closed the drawer instead. Guns horrified Meldon; nevertheless,
his lips showed a smile, because he had learned that Lenning had a revolver
handy.
Minutes passed. In his strained state, Meldon kept worrying because
Lenning did not return. His hand was on the pad that contained the notes of
his
own dictation. Those statements were precious to Ludwig Meldon. They were
facts
that he had told to Lenning; facts that the world would know after the notary
typed them and Meldon made his affidavit. There was something else, though, to
go with them.
Meldon drew a folded letter from his pocket, spread it out upon the desk.
Stubs of paper dropped from the folds: a railroad ticket and three
baggage-room
checks, that indicated luggage left at the station. Hastily, Meldon pocketed
the