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

still at the table; he will probably return shortly."
"I'll look for him," remarked Vic, remembering the man who had passed
him.
"I know him by sight."
Finding Bryland was not so easy as Vic hoped. He looked into the barroom;
thought he saw Bryland with a group of men, but was mistaken. It was when he
passed the cocktail lounge that he suddenly spied the man. Marquette stopped
just short of the door.
Bryland was seated at a table, talking to a woman dressed in black
velvet.
There was a simplicity about her attire that made it the more conspicuous,
particularly as it showed her face to best advantage. Marquette saw an
aristocratic profile; decided that the woman was Spanish. Vic recalled a
photograph that he had seen of that profile.
An assistant manager was standing close at hand. Vic turned to him and
inquired:
"The lady in the lounge, with Mr. Bryland. Isn't she Senorita Valencita?"
 The manager nodded; then confided:
"Probably Mr. Bryland is an old friend. Senorita Valencita has many
acquaintances in Washington."
Marquette was thinking along another track. He stepped back as he saw
Bryland and the woman rise and come toward the door. He caught a snatch of
conversation:
"Then you will come there?" the woman was inquiring. "And bring -"
"Of course," inserted Bryland. He had noted Vic from the corner of his
eye. "You can rely upon me. After all" - Bryland's smile was well faked - "the
matter is of little consequence!"
For a moment, Nina showed puzzlement; she covered the expression quickly.
"Of some importance to me," she said, with a smile. "Enough to make it
worth while asking you the favor. Good night, Mr. Bryland."
As Bryland bowed, Nina turned back through the lounge. A moment later,
Marquette heard a rustle beside him; turned to see Martha Leeth.


THE congressman's daughter made a complete contrast when compared with
Nina Valencita. Martha Leeth was actually young; she was a pronounced blonde,
with bright blue eyes. Her taffeta gown was a cascade of peacock-blue ruffles,
which gave her a babyish look.
The indignation that she displayed was far from childlike, however.
Martha
had seen Nina and had summed the brunette with a glance. Martha was determined
to show herself as much a woman of the world as the Spanish brunette, whom she
instantly regarded as a rival for Bryland's affections.
"So that was your message," snapped Martha. "I'm bringing mine, in
person!
Good-by!"
Martha turned about on a trim silver heel and started in the opposite
direction. Bryland gripped her arm. He protested as he followed close beside
the girl.
"It was nothing, Martha - merely an old acquaintance - a slight favor -"