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

Across the front of the double doors, Harry could read the gilded legend:

HUGH BARVALE & CO.
Imports & Exports

The strong box was halted before it was halfway out of the truck. A
derrick was swung from the deck of the Ozark; workers began to hitch its hooks
to the chains around the strong box. A bellowed objection came from the rail.
Looking forward, Harry saw Pell gesticulating for the work to stop.
The third officer's argument was that the derrick couldn't hoist a load
heavier than three tons until equipped with a stronger chain. Despite his
mistrust of Pell, Harry was forced to mental agreement. The old chain had
broken a while before, when lifting a three-ton load. It was patched with a
link that was certainly no stronger than the one that had broken.
It was important too, that nothing go wrong when the strong box was taken
aboard. Like Pell, Harry knew what the great chest contained. It was filled
with bars and ingots of gold and silver, to a total value of two million
dollars. It would be a serious matter if such freight broke loose and splashed
between the Ozark and the pier.
 Nevertheless, Harry still mistrusted Pell. He wondered why the third
officer hadn't seen to the matter of the new chain earlier. It looked very
much
like a stall to keep the strong box on the pier and delay the steamship's
departure. The cops apparently agreed with Harry, for they were tightening
their hands upon their holstered guns.
The men from the truck settled the argument. They shouted up to Pell that
the load didn't weigh over three tons; that they would take the blame if
anything went wrong. They were as anxious to get the cargo aboard as Pell was
to keep it off the ship. Fuming, Pell was forced to let them have their way.


THE derrick hoisted the great chest high above the deck, let it sink
gently into the open hatchway to the ship's hold. Detached by men in the hold,
the hooks came triumphantly up to sight again, clanking together like empty
hands warming themselves in congratulation over a job well done.
Climbing onto their motorcycles, the four policemen waited for Pell to
order the gangplank hauled aboard; Harry watched the third officer, expecting
him to give the command. Instead, Pell's mouth gaped open, his eyes took on a
bulging stare. Following the direction of the look, Harry saw the old packing
cases that he had observed earlier.
Creeping in upon the space beside the post were three rough-clad men who
looked like dock-wallopers. They were trouble-makers who had stayed well in
the
offing, waiting for the police to leave. Something, however, had lured them to
a
sneaky advance, despite the risk of a fracas with the law.
Both Pell and Harry saw what it was; that darkened patch that looked like
a human figure. It was still there; and this time, Harry knew that he had not
imagined it. The black silhouette, grotesquely like the head and shoulders of
a