"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 128 - The Shadow's Rival" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

blocks away, he entered a parked limousine. Through a speaking tube, he spoke
in quiet, leisurely tone to his chauffeur:
"The club, Stanley."
During that ride, The Shadow divested himself of black cloak and hat. He
placed those garments in a special drawer that pulled out from beneath the big
rear seat. Passing street lights showed the limousine's passenger to be a
gentleman attired in evening clothes.
His features were hawkish, almost masklike; that face was the well-known
countenance of Lamont Cranston. In his present guise, The Shadow passed as a
millionaire member of the exclusive Cobalt Club. Lamont Cranston, wealthy
globe-trotter, was frequently seen at that club when he happened to be in New
York.
It had been some time since Cranston had appeared at his club; and there
was a definite reason for his arrival there to-night. As Cranston, The Shadow
wanted to meet a man who would probably be there. That man was Ralph Weston,
police commissioner of New York.
In his analysis of to-night's episode, The Shadow had decided that
something unusual must lie behind it. Chink Rethlo had mentioned that the law
had recently "knocked off" some small-timers. The Shadow was conversant with
that fact.
Some of the small-timers were bigger than Chink had cared to admit. The
Shadow could cite three definite instances.
"Kid" Lombroy, head of a budding dope ring, had been arrested in
Chinatown
with the goods on him. Perry Candreth, blackmailer de luxe, had been cornered
while threatening a wealthy Californian. "Goggles" Barchew, a fake peddler who
specialized in warehouse robberies, had found his whole crowd surrounded by
detectives. The law had caught those crooks during a job.
Oddly, The Shadow had planned to handle Lombroy as soon as the dopester
received his next shipment. He had arranged a special trap that would later
have snared Candreth. The Shadow had also started out to pick up Barchew's
trail, only to find the police in charge.
In each case, there were elements whereby the law could have managed to
get in ahead, although the chances had been remote. The raid of Chink Rethlo's
hide-out was something different. The Shadow had not foreseen the slightest
possibility that the law could have figured where Chink was located.
This final instance proved that there must have been something unusual
about the others. As he rode along, The Shadow became more positive that some
unknown element must be at work.


WHEN Lamont Cranston appeared in the Cobalt Club, he immediately
encountered Ralph Weston. The police commissioner was exuberant over the law's
latest triumph. He gave Cranston details that Cardona had just telephoned.
"Congratulations, commissioner;" remarked Cranston, in an indifferent
tone. "Your department is most fortunate!"
"Fortunate!" snapped Weston. "You talk like the newspapers, Cranston.
They
never give the police proper credit."
"In hunting big game in the jungle," observed Cranston, in reminiscent