"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 126 - Treasure Trail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

All visitors who inquired for the millionaire were to be treated cordially. If Mr. Cranston happened to be
absent, they were to be encouraged to remain until he arrived, or could be reached by telephone. The
personnel of the club thought the order to be a whim on Cranston's part. They had never guessed the true
reason.

Lamont Cranston was The Shadow. Master-fighter who battled crime, he frequently covered his true
identity under the guise of Cranston. There was always chance of emergency wherein The Shadow might
require a meeting with some unexpected person. Therefore, he had issued the standing order.

"Sorry, sir." The attendant used his most genial tone. "Mr. Cranston has not arrived this evening. You are
welcome to wait here, in the lounge or library."

The weather-beaten stranger looked in the directions indicated. He glanced back at the outside door. He
balked at the idea of remaining in the club.

"Tell Mr. Cranston I'll be back later."

"He would like you to remain -"

"I have a cab outside. I'd rather ride around a while. I'll be back. I wouldn't disappoint him."

"Your name, sir?"

"Captain Daniel Cray."

The attendant blinked as he heard the title. He wondered just what kind of a captain Cray could be. Cray
saw the attendant's expression; fidgeting with his hat, he explained:

"Better make it Skipper Cray. Old Skipper Dan, master of the schooner Hatteras. Mr. Cranston will
remember me, when you mention the name of the old five-master."

With a last look around the club lobby, as though doubting the attendant's statement of Cranston's
absence, "Skipper" Cray planked his battered hat on his grizzled brow. Turning, he shuffled toward the
outer door.

THERE was one man who had noticed the conversation at the desk. He was a club member of brusque
manner and military appearance, whose short-clipped mustache went well with his broad features. Every
one knew that club member. He was Ralph Weston, New York's police commissioner.

Among his friends Weston counted Cranston. The commissioner was therefore interested when he saw
the visitor who inquired for the millionaire. Stepping over to the desk, Weston asked:

"What did that fellow say his name was? Skipper Cray?"

"Yes, commissioner," replied the attendant. "He claimed that Mr. Cranston would recognize the name."

"You asked him to wait here?"

"Yes. He declined. He seemed nervous about it."