"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 117 - Vengeance Is Mine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

declared
Weston. "That was just before he made the measurement from the fire plug. The
janitor recalled the number when we showed it to him. The number tallies with
a
broken license plate found at the spot where the coupe exploded below the East
River bridge. Hence, there is complete evidence to support our well-formed
theory."
 THIS was news that The Shadow had not yet heard. It aroused his interest.
Weston saw a slight fading of the listlessness that dominated the features of
Cranston. The change ended; when The Shadow spoke, his question was scarcely
more than casual:
"You have traced the owner of the coupe?"
"Yes," replied Weston. "He is a patient in a hospital on Long Island. A
man named Burland, who underwent an operation three days ago. He had left his
car on a parking lot not far from the hospital.
"The lot is managed by a man named Jerry Luffrey, who also sells used
cars. Cardona found that Luffrey thought the coupe was still on the lot. It
was
stolen from there and had not been missed. Since Burland had talked about
selling it for five hundred dollars, Luffrey will be out that sum.
"However, that is irrelevant. Burland is in the hospital. Luffrey is a
loser. Neither knew that the car was gone; and inquiry has failed to show how,
when, or by whom it was stolen."
The Shadow became reflective. Weston watched him pleasantly, confident
that his friend Cranston was at last willing to concede that the law had done
a
thorough job. At last, The Shadow indulged in a quiet smile; made a slight
gesture toward the doorway of the lounge room.
"Look, commissioner," he remarked, dryly. "There are some more fossils
from the Cobalt Club. The poor chaps look bewildered in their new setting. I
am
quite sorry for them."
Weston frowned. He was piqued because The Shadow had changed the subject.
He remembered, though, that it was Cranston's usual way.
"I happen to be a member of the Merrimac Club," resumed The Shadow, in
the
even tone of Cranston. "Therefore, in a sense, I am a host to my fellow
members
of the Cobalt Club. I have tried to make them feel at home. I had long chats
with several of them today."
Weston started to rise. He had business elsewhere; not time to waste in
listening to the plight of old fogies who had been forced to abandon
temporarily the peaceful surroundings of their beloved Cobalt Club. Still in a
reflective tone, The Shadow remarked:
"Some of those old chaps are amazingly outspoken. They have good
memories,
too. It surprised me, the caustic way in which they criticized George Zanwood,
when I happened to mention his name."
"What's that?" Weston was abrupt; then, angrily: "There was nothing
against Zanwood. We have looked into his business, thoroughly. He had handled