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

him a chance to take it away from either."
The cars headed for the Arlington Memorial Bridge. As they neared the
Potomac, Vic Marquette settled back in a rear seat, fully satisfied with the
course that he had chosen. He was glad that he had not trailed Bryland. That
trail, in Vic's opinion, would have been a mistake.
Vic did not know what opportunity he had missed. Actually, success was
slipping from his grasp. The trail that the secret service man ignored would
have opened remarkable paths. It would have taken Vic to a certain embassy in
Washington; to a hidden lair within that embassy, where a master-spy dwelt in
security.
More important, it would have carried Vic Marquette to the spot where The
Shadow lay a prisoner, doped into helplessness, awaiting the doom that Hugo
Creeland was ready to decree.
Vic Marquette was carrying a search order, on which his signature was
scarcely dry. Without knowing it, Vic had signed another warrant, as plainly
as
if he had affixed his name to it.
That was the unwritten order for The Shadow's death. Vic Marquette,
alone,
could have provided The Shadow with outside aid. The Shadow would never
receive
the help that he desired.


CHAPTER VII

THROUGH THE GLASS

FREDERICK BRYLAND'S dinner hour had been planned as a pleasant one; but
had resulted in a spat. The Shadow's dinner time was planned as a tragic jest.
Shortly after eight o'clock, Jarruth wheeled in the tea wagon, bringing a
bowl of soup and a plate of more substantial food. He rolled it up to where
The
Shadow was seated, staring listlessly.
Hugo Creelon had heard from Nina Valencita. Frederick Bryland would
arrive
this very evening. Creelon had given the order for The Shadow's dinner.
Afterward would come a dose more powerful than hashish.
Death by poison would be The Shadow's fate, as soon as Creelon commenced
negotiations with Bryland.
Laboriously, The Shadow inserted spoon in soup, while Jarruth looked on
jeeringly. Every spoonful was an effort, and Jarruth enjoyed it for a while.
Then the sight tired him. The prisoner was more lethargic than at lunch time.
Jarruth went out to prepare the dessert. He hoped that it would be a glass of
poison.
When Jarruth was gone, a change took place. Perceptibly, The Shadow came
to life. His motion was not swift - it still showed painful slowness. But his
speed was much closer to normal.
The second dose of hashish had been less effective than the first. The
Shadow, however, had not shown it. Once awake, he had pretended further sleep,