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

room, both agents took a last glance from the doorway.
They saw the figure of Lamont Cranston motionless at the window. Keen
eyes
were staring out to sea; beneath them were lips that held a slight, but
solemn,
smile. It seemed that The Shadow's gaze was reaching off beyond the cleared
horizon, ferreting for some hidden ship commanded by a lone wolf crook.
There, again on the broad Atlantic, The Shadow would at last find Pointer
Trame.


CHAPTER VI

OUT TO SEA

Two days had gone; with them, the law had no luck in its search for the
criminals who had wrecked the Ozark. The one trace of them had been the
finding
of the motorized lifeboat in the shoal waters of an inlet some thirty miles
north of Atlantic City; but that discovery was fruitless.
The fugitives had abandoned their craft long before, and there wasn't a
single clue that led to their trail. Probably the band had separated, and
found
their way back to New York. Preventing entry there was almost impossible, with
so many ways of transportation available.
 Meanwhile, the law itself had investigated the wireless call received
aboard the Ozark just prior to the freighter's loss. Many vessels had been
questioned, upon reaching port; others had been met by coast guard cutters and
subjected to a quiz. Not one knew anything about the mysterious message that
had doomed the Ozark.
It was night in Atlantic City; with many hours gone, few remained until
dawn. Brilliance had ended along the boardwalk, except for the lights of a few
intermittent lamp-posts. The big advertising signs that topped the piers were
dark, for no one was abroad to read them.
Viewed from below, the fronts of the large hotels were dark, too,
denoting
only sleeping guests in those choice rooms that faced the ocean. There was one
hotel, however, in which a light still burned within a front room on the sixth
floor. The glow was not visible outside, for drawn shades blocked it.
There, The Shadow was at work above a large chart that showed the New
Jersey coast. He had marked spots out to sea with pins that bore heads of
different colors. Each represented a different ship.
One, a green pin, stood for a yacht that bore the name Marmora.
That chart had changed often during the past two days, as different ships
had come to port or sailed farther out to sea. The Marmora, however, had
always
been in the offing; and that, to The Shadow, was significant.
His fingers resting on the green pin, The Shadow whispered a soft laugh
in
the darkness above the light that glowed upon the chart.