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

embassy of so great a nation as -"
She paused, catching a slight warning motion from Creelon's usually
straight lips. Nina responded with a wise smile. She decided to let Creelon
talk.
"We can reserve further compliments," remarked Creelon, dryly. "Our
present business concerns us; I have an important task for you; provided that
you can accomplish it without producing suspicion."
"Why should I create suspicion?"
"Because of your previous operations in the field of espionage.
Particularly those during the recent Spanish revolution."
"Spain is supposed to be my native country," smiled Nina. "It was only
natural that I should have gone there, to join in the cause of the royalists."
"You feel sure then, that you have not been watched in Washington?"
"Quite positive. My recent engagement to John Marthess, nephew of the
late
Senator Marthess, indicates that I prefer marrying money rather than acquire
it
by other means."


CREELON nodded in slow, convinced fashion. His nod ended with a sudden
expression of doubt.
"Since you are engaged to young Marthess," he objected, "it might cause
undue comment if you were seen with another man, even though the meeting might
be a short one."
Nina shook her head.
"Not at all," she responded. "I have many friends in Washington.
Moreover,
Mr. Creelon, I understand when I should be discreet."
"There is another objection. Do you intend to marry Marthess?"
Nina shook her head. Creelon actually smiled.
"I thought you did not," he said. "That is why I sent for you. If you
were
marrying a man of wealth, you would have no need for money. But if you are
merely engaged to a wealthy man, as an excuse for being in Washington, your
status is excellent."
Creelon paused to glance at his watch, which showed three o'clock.
"Within the next five hours," said the master-spy, "I want you to locate
a
man named Frederick Bryland."
"Formerly a major in the United States army," added Nina, with her suave
smile. "I have met Mr. Bryland."
"All the better. I can count upon you to find him. When you speak to
Bryland, tell him who I am and where I may be reached."
Nina Valencita gasped as she stared at Hugo Creelon. She could not
believe
the order. Hugo Creelon, the spy whose name was known only to the cleverest of
his own profession; calling upon her to reveal his identity to a former army
officer. Whether jest or madness, Nina could not understand it. Then came
Creelon's brisk voice: