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

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beneath the false bottom, he brought out his black cloak and hat. He already
had
his automatics, holstered beneath his coat. Donning the black garments, he
drew
on a pair of thin gloves that had been tucked within the hat. Silently, The
Shadow moved from the cabin.
He became a gliding thing of blackness, a sable-hued ghost invisible in
the night, as he groped his way along the rail. The Marmora was rolling
through
a long cross swell, and The Shadow gauged his progress to the ship's motion.
Picking a well-chosen course, he disappeared below and suddenly emerged from a
darkened passage into the lighted space outside Trame's cabin.
The door of that cabin was unlocked, as The Shadow learned when he tried
the knob. The discovery caused extreme caution on The Shadow's part. Under his
skillful-pressure, the door gave no perceptible motion as it inched inward.
Using the narrowest of cracks, The Shadow surveyed the scene.


AS usual, the cabin was but dimly lighted. Trame kept it that way for two
reasons. First, because it had been customary with Trebble; again, it helped
Trame get by with his impersonation of the vanished millionaire.
But Trame wasn't in the cabin at present.
Instead, The Shadow saw Raydorf. The alleged secretary was seated at the
desk; he had turned on a small light, that cast a sharp glow upon white sheets
of paper in front of him. So powerful was the light that The Shadow could see
the numerals on a little desk calendar at Raydorf's elbow. That calendar was
correct, and Raydorf was referring to its date: Tuesday, the twelfth.
In a curious way, Raydorf was Trame's secretary. Usually, though, a
secretary typed letters and let his employer sign them. Raydorf was doing just
the reverse. He was carefully affixing a signature to certain documents. As
the
darkish man tilted one sheet into the light, The Shadow saw its bold-lettered
signature. The name that Raydorf had written was that of Jerome Trebble.
With Raydorf in his employ, Pointer Trame could go far with his
impersonation of Trebble. It was plain that Raydorf was a skilled forger, who
could supply the one thing that Trame most required: a satisfactory replica of
Trebble's signature. That, however, did not clear the situation; contrarily,
it
actually perplexed The Shadow.
At this rate, Trame could bleed the vast riches that belonged to Jerome
Trebble. Why, then, should Pointer Trame be working at other crime?
The Shadow wanted the answer to that question, and he was soon to get it.
Raydorf had finished with his forgery. He laid the papers on the desk and
stepped toward the door. The barrier was tightening imperceptibly as he
approached.
Outside, The Shadow did a rapid fade into a darkened side passage.
Swallowed by gloom, he was gone like a dispelling puff of black smoke, when
Raydorf stepped from the cabin. The evil-faced secretary was going up on deck
to talk with Trame, hence did not bother to lock the cabin door.