"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 123 - Washington Crime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

to give it an ordinary appearance. Across one arm, he carried his cloak like a
discarded overcoat. That seemed quite usual; for this was one of those
surprisingly mild nights that frequently sandwich themselves into Washington's
early winter.
The house was an old one; a type of residence seen throughout Washington.
Other buildings like it had been converted into apartments; but this one had
apparently been kept for occasional use by its owner. It looked as though it
had just been reopened.
The Shadow rang the doorbell. A servant in livery admitted him to a
vestibule, and eyed the visitor suspiciously. The Shadow quietly informed the
servant that he had come from Senator Releston.
That was sufficient. The servant conducted The Shadow through a gloomy
hallway, into a high parlor that was furnished with old-fashioned chairs and
couches.
The Shadow placed his hat and cloak on a corner couch; took his seat near
a fireplace where logs were crackling merrily. The fire was necessary to take
the chill from this old house. Beneath the light of a crystal chandelier, The
Shadow studied the surroundings and approved the methods of Agent F-3.
Few persons had ever heard of Agent F-3; but The Shadow knew much about
him. His real name was James Murtrie; for years, he had served the United
States government abroad. His job was to offset the efforts of foreign spies;
to ferret out their nests and make them known to the government that
unwittingly harbored them.
It was probable that Murtrie, otherwise F-3, had heard much of The
Shadow.
Since both were working on the same case, this meeting would be a most
opportune
one. Moreover, there was one man to whom The Shadow could safely make his
identity known. That man was Agent F-3.
While The Shadow was puffing a cigarette, in Cranston's leisurely style,
curtains opened at a rear doorway of the room. Into the light stepped a man of
medium height, whose face was one of the most striking that The Shadow had
ever
seen.
His features were almost triangular, when viewed full face. His forehead
was wide; his cheeks tapered to a pointed chin. Dark eyes peered keenly from
his narrowed lids; the lips beneath his thin nose formed a short, straight
line. His flesh was smooth of texture, but pale almost to whiteness - a proof
that the man spent most of his life indoors.
 "I am Agent F-3," declared the pale man, in a precise, short-clipped
tone.
Then, with a noticeable sparkle of his eyes: "You are The Shadow."


THE SHADOW'S thin lips formed a smile. He knew that the pale man had
noticed his folded cloak and slouch hat; something that the servant had failed
to do.
"My name is James Murtrie," added F-3. "May I ask yours?"
"For the present," replied The Shadow, calmly, "I am Lamont Cranston. A
friend of Senator Ross Releston."