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

suggested:
"Have a chair, Mr. Cranston."
Soon, The Shadow and Pointer Trame were clouding the air with puffs from
fat cigars. In their respective parts of Lamont Cranston and Jerome Trebble,
crime hunter and crook were forming an excellent acquaintance.
Not once did The Shadow make the slightest sign that could have alarmed
Trame. In turn, Trame showed no suspicion of his new guest, Lamont Cranston.
At
moments, it struck The Shadow that his own pretense might be working too
effectively. Perhaps it was an indication that Trame's bluff also covered
secret inklings regarding The Shadow's true identity.
Subtly, in that cajoling tone that he faked so well, Trame was suggesting
reasons why Cranston should stay aboard the Marmora for a while. His excuse
was
that he seldom put into port; at present, he was hoping to extend this cruise
into a fishing trip, which might be spoiled if he left these waters.
It would have been a logical-enough pretext, had it come from Jerome
Trebble, the millionaire who always wanted his own way; but from the lips of
Pointer Trame, the excuse was flimsy. Nevertheless, Trame received the reply
that Cranston was in no hurry to go ashore; that he would be glad to continue
on the cruise.
That pleased Trame. However shallow his suspicions might be, he wanted to
know more about Lamont Cranston. In turn, The Shadow desired further facts
regarding Pointer Trame.
 The conversation ended when someone rapped heavily at the cabin door.
Trame recognized the knock, and called: "You may enter, Raydorf!"
Then, while the door was opening, Trame informed The Shadow:
"Raydorf is my secretary, and a very competent man."


FROM Raydorf's look, when The Shadow saw him, the man appeared very
competent, but not as a secretary. The fellow looked to be more capable in
such
pursuits as murder or mayhem. Seldom had The Shadow seen an uglier pair of
eyes,
or lips that carried such suggestion of latent cruelty.
There was a gloss to Raydorf's darkish countenance that somewhat covered
his villainous expression. When he adjusted a pair of spectacles to his
high-bridged nose, he gained a bit of superficial dignity. His voice, too,
added some suavity to his manner, for it was a velvety purr.
To others, Raydorf's shammed smugness might have been deceptive; but as
The Shadow watched him, the fellow seemed to ooze viciousness from every pore.
Thinking that his oily manner was as good a bluff as Trame's wheedle,
Raydorf politely inquired how long Mr. Cranston would be aboard the Marmora.
With definite satisfaction, Trame replied that the guest's stay would be a
long
one. He turned to The Shadow, remarking that if he cared to send any radiogram
to New York, it could be easily arranged.
"Just call your steward," said Trame. "His name is Hartley. Wait" - Trame
reached for a buzzer - "I'll send for him and introduce you."