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

that pulled up and let out a passenger. I'll try to locate that hack while you
quiz this fellow."
The druggist provided the cab starter with a stimulant. After a gulped
drink, the fellow revived. His manner showed that he might prove a valuable
witness. Weston urged him to give his story.
"It was this way," declared the starter. "Mr. Zanwood kept talking to the
doorman, about a bag that he expected from the Apex Security Co."
"He mentioned that company?" queried Weston. "You heard him?"
"Sure thing," returned the stocky starter. "He's had 'em come to the club
before, Mr. Zanwood has - or did, I ought to say. A couple of times, but
brought by different messengers. That's why I didn't suspect the fellow that
showed up tonight, only I ought to have, because the bag was funny looking. It
wasn't flat, like the others were.
"The guy gets out of a green cab. He asks for Mr. Zanwood, so I pointed
to
the doorway. Jimmy - he was the doorman - comes out to take the bag, but the
fellow wants to be sure that Mr. Zanwood got it, so he starts crowding into
the
club. I saw Mr. Zanwood meet him at the door. The bag was sort of changing
hands.
"That was the last I saw of it. The hackie in the green cab was hollering
to know if there was a parking space. I started down the sidewalk to show him
one. He saw it, so I was coming back. Just then - bang! - out goes the whole
front of the club and leaves me lying in the street."


THE starter settled back in his chair, tired by his exertion. The Shadow
offered him a cigarette from a platinum case. The fellow accepted it eagerly.
He was shaky when he drew at the flame of The Shadow's lighter; but a few
puffs
eased him. He lifted the cigarette from his lips to say:
"Thanks, Mr. Cranston."
Weston had ordered one of his men to call the Apex Security Co., on the
assumption that its office was still open. While that was being done, he
questioned the starter for a description of the man who had delivered the bomb
to Zanwood.
"He was a tall guy," declared the witness. "Shoulders straight back. He
walked with a long stride; I saw that when he came across the sidewalk. Say!
That makes me remember it must have been him I saw later, just before the
blow-up came! Sure enough, he was clear up here by the drug store, making time
with those long legs of his, though he didn't look like he was in a hurry."
"A good point," commended Weston. "But get back to the description. Did
you see the man's face?"
"Yeah. It was kind of blunt. His hair was dark, pretty near black, I'd
say, and his eyes were about the same."
"His complexion?"
"I couldn't say. Dark, I guess. He was a youngish man, though. I'm sure
of
that."
The starter's recollection ended. Weston was called to the telephone. The