"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 166 - Crime Rides The Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

would Barvale or his daughter.
From the photo, Harry had mentally classed Hugh Barvale as an overbearing
financier; his daughter Edna as a dizzy blonde. Perhaps that latter prejudice
explained why Harry had taken such a liking to Ruth Eldrey. Certainly, all
blondes would have suffered by contrast with the vivacious brunette who had
monopolized the entire passenger list of the Ozark.
Of one fact, Harry was certain. Nothing would happen to Ruth while she
chatted with the other passengers. That made Harry quite desirous of learning
what might be going on outside the lounge, while he had the opportunity.
Finding himself unnoticed, he stepped to the lounge door and sidled out to the
deck.
Fog still hovered about the Ozark but the big searchlight was cleaving a
long path ahead. Above, Harry could see the black smoke steaming from the
ship's single funnel; at intervals, the misty atmosphere quivered with the
rumble of the deep-throated whistle.
No answers came from the fog-blanketed waters. The Ozark was plying an
unobstructed course out into the Atlantic.
With the dying echoes of one whistle blast, Harry caught a creaky sound
close by. He stepped promptly into the shelter of a corridor-doorway, just as
a
man in uniform moved from another. A deck light showed the fellow's face,
yellowish in the gleam. Harry recognized Robert Pell.


MOVING to the rail, the third officer nervously unfolded a small sheet of
paper that he held in one hand. Lifting it toward the light, he scanned
written
lines. A twitchiness came to his face; he began to look nervously along the
deck.
Forced back into hiding, Harry never had a chance to glimpse Pell's
message. The third officer crumpled the sheet and tossed it over the rail.
Loss of one opportunity never fazed Harry, when he could find another.
Pell was sneaking forward, keeping close to the cabins, which made it apparent
that he was following instructions received from the note. A few moments
later,
Harry was copying the third officer's mode of locomotion.
The course led to the ship's bridge. Harry was venturing into territory
where passengers were not permitted; but he could see no risk. Pell, too, was
anxious to avoid observation, which made it simple for Harry to follow. But
when they reached the bridge, Pell's manner changed.
After one quick glance, he confidently mounted the steps and strolled in
to chat with the officer who was on the bridge watch.
His head poked on a level with the floor of the bridge, Harry caught
snatches of their conversation. Pell was cagily fishing for an excuse to take
over the trick, and the other officer finally consented to allow him a short
shift.
Harry ducked away from the steps when the man came down from the bridge.
A
few seconds later, he poked his head above the steps again and watched Pell.
Pell had, on some pretext or other, dismissed the quartermaster who had been