"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 146 - Face of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

had left them woozy. Marty still couldn't get over The Face's arrival. Jordy was shaken by the
crime-master's sudden departure.

Marty decided not to enlighten Jordy on the subject. The less Jordy knew; the more worried he was, the
better it would suit The Face.

To Marty Lursch, beginning with tonight, The Face had become a master supreme.
IN the alleyway, Jordy Fergen steadied, to give details for Marty's next crime. They were the very sort
that Marty wanted. On the liner Megantic, Jordy had done more than obtain details regarding the Spanish
jewels themselves; the fake steward had listened in on a conversation between two representatives of the
Aldheim Company.

They had done more than discuss the gems. They had talked over the faults of the burglar-alarm system
protecting the Aldheim offices. They had also expressed annoyance because installation of a newer
system had been delayed. It wouldn't be fixed, as ordered, before the Spanish gems arrived in New
York.

"That means the old hook-up is still set," summed Marty, when Jordy had finished. "It's a cinch, Jordy,
with all you've spilled about it. You slide back to the boat and stay there. I'll get the mob together. We'll
start the job at midnight."

Ever cautious, Jordy asked where Marty Lursch would be until midnight, in case he needed to find him.
Marty's reply was explicit.

"Call the Casino Del Tovar," stated Marty. "The swell joint that Sparkler Broyt runs. Ask for Orry
Leven. I'll be with him. I'm going to put both those fellows straight on one thing"тАФMarty was adding this
for his own benefit, rather than Jordy's. "I'm letting them know that I still stand right with The Face."

Jordy shuffled from the alley. Three minutes later, Marty took the same route. He went back to the
elevated station, to ride a few stations, then change to a cab. As he waited on the station platform, Marty
again registered a grin on his puffy features.

If Marty Lursch had foreseen the full consequences of his coming midnight venture, he would not have
worn that smirk.

CHAPTER II. JORDY TALKS AGAIN
AT eleven o'clock that evening, a group of men were leaving the banquet room of the Hotel Cosmopole.
All were attired in evening clothes; their faces marked them as a distinguished throng. Reporters were in
abundance; cameramen were shooting photographs as they touched off flash bulbs.

The affair had, in fact, been an eventful one. The banquet had been given by Alvin Drame, multimillionaire
and philanthropist; its purpose was to induce other men of wealth to add their contributions to a fund for
the erection of a new museum.

Drame, himself, had announced his subscription of a half a million dollars, to put the plan in progress.
That made him the center of attention as he left the banquet room. Surrounded by other men, Drame
formed a rather incongruous figure.

The philanthropist was tall, but slender and narrow-shouldered. His head seemed overlarge in proportion
to his frame. That was partly due to the bushy hair that topped his high, bulging forehead. His face, too,