"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 153 - Murder For Sale" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

By the time Thelden had wrested free, Harry had entered the chophouse.
"I ought to drill you, Dembrick!" grated Thelden. "'What was the idea,
stopping me? Are you yellow?"
"If I was," retorted Dembrick, "I wouldn't have put my mitt over the
muzzle. I didn't want to see you act the sap, that was all."
"How was I a sap?"
"You were going to spoil a good job for somebody," reminded Dembrick.
"Maybe for yourself. Ring don't pay for a croak unless he orders it. Why throw
twenty-five hundred bucks into the gutter?"
The logic appeased Thelden. He pocketed his gun, followed Dembrick from
the doorway. When they reached the rathskeller, they resumed their discussion
in undertone, at a table secluded in a corner.

"I'LL tell Ring about this fellow Vincent," promised Dembrick. "If he
wants the guy rubbed out, the job will probably be yours. There's a chance,
however "--Dembrick sidelonged a wary glance as he spoke--"that Ring won't
want Vincent croaked."
Thelden seemed disinterested. His murderous spasm had passed. With
Thelden, killing was a matter of impulse that he had long restrained. Working
for Ring had given him the enjoyable privilege of cutting loose on occasion.
Nevertheless, the cash counted.
"Of course," added Dembrick, "if Vincent knows too much, Ring will grab
him. But a job like that belongs to Whiz and those salaried boys of his."
"That's right enough," agreed Thelden, "but they do a little trigger
work, now and then.
"Not if they can help it," reminded Dembrick; "Ring don't like it, unless
there's no other out. Sometimes he docks their pay, when they get too flip.
Only, you know how things happen, sometimes.
"Anyway, leave Vincent to Ring. If the guy's harmless, it would be
foolish to croak him. If he's the other way and Ring grabs him, he won't want
to let him go, and he can't keep him forever. That'll mean a soft job for you,
later, and you know how the rule goes. Full price for every croak!"
The anticipation pleased George Thelden. He and Howard Dembrick bumped
glasses in a silent toast to death that both regarded as a future certainty.
Later, when they were having their fourth drink, Dembrick asked, casually:
"Where is this fellow Vincent stopping? Did he tell you?"
"He did," returned Thelden. "He's at the Penn-Delphia."
From the looks that the pair exchanged, it was plain that Harry Vincent
would find plenty of excitement in Philadelphia, before this evening ended.

CHAPTER IV
HARRY TALKS FAST
AT half past eight, Harry Vincent returned to the Hotel Penn-Delphia,
intending to write out his report for The Shadow. He found the lobby crowded
with men and women dressed in evening clothes, and learned that a fashionable
ball was scheduled for the evening.
All seemed very quiet when Harry reached the eighth floor. He followed
the carpeted corridor to his small suite and unlocked the door.
There had been no single rooms when Harry checked into the hotel. He had
been given the suite at a reduced rate, partly because of its poor location.