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

As the ex-major seated himself, curtains spread on the far side of the
room. Hugo Creelon appeared; against the blue of the curtains, the spy's pale
face showed an expression of annoyance. Creelon had been elsewhere when
Bryland's arrival had been signaled. He had not been able to reach the lookout
post in time to take a preview of his visitor.
Bryland saw Creelon. The Shadow watched the thief arise to meet the spy.
Low-toned words came to The Shadow's ears, in voices that he recognized:
Bryland's smooth tone; Creelon's choppy mode of speech.
The lookout post was fitted with a loud-speaker, tuned down almost to a
whisper. Creelon had equipped the spot for his own use and had ignored no
detail. All that was said in the reception room could be heard by The Shadow.
There was no drawl to the voices. The only lingering hallucination that
still afflicted The Shadow was a false sensation of a pause after each man
spoke. That illusion told The Shadow that he must continue to make allowance
for the effect of the hashish. His senses could gauge motion and sound almost
normally, but his brain became dreamy during intervals between.
Whether or not he would be capable of swift action on his own was
something that The Shadow would not know until occasion forced it. For the
present, The Shadow preferred to postpone such a test. There would be a time
for it later, when a real crisis arrived. Then - no matter what the risk - The
Shadow would attempt action.
That time would come when Frederick Bryland delivered the National
Emergency Code to Hugo Creelon. When the NEC changed hands, The Shadow would
have his last opportunity to save the vital document.


CHAPTER VIII

CROOKS MAKE TERMS

NINA VALENCITA had performed her mission capably during her short
interview with Frederick Bryland. From the moment that he met Hugo Creelon,
Bryland showed no doubt regarding the character of the superspy.
Bryland's smile showed admiration; it was the tribute of one rogue to
another. He spoke freely, easily, as he opened negotiations with Creelon.
"I had hoped that a worker of your caliber might be in Washington,"
declared Bryland. "I counted on it when I took the NEC. I needed some one to
whom I could sell it; keen enough, also, to learn that I possessed it."
Creelon accepted the compliments with a bow. As the two sat down,
Bryland's expression sobered.
"There is something important that I must ask you," he said to Creelon.
"I
left no loophole through which the government agents could suspect me. How did
you learn that I had the code?"
"Through Follingsby's cane," replied Creelon. "Or rather, Darson's cane,
that Follingsby was carrying by mistake."
Bryland nodded approvingly; then winced.
"That was a weak point," he admitted. "Therefore, it worries me. Perhaps
some one else has guessed it -"
"Another did," inserted Creelon. "He was the man whom you failed to kill.