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

Then, like the silent darkness itself, The Shadow became motionless. The
fade of those passing footsteps had allowed him to hear a closer sound - a
tense, slow breathing that seemed no more than inches from his elbow.
The Shadow was no longer atone in his cabin. Someone had entered during
his absence. Whoever the man might be, he had learned, when he entered, that
Lamont Cranston was gone. That fact, once spread, could place The Shadow in
the
worst predicament of his career.
Alone on the Marmora, faced by Trame's picked crew of crooks, The Shadow
would be up against terrific odds. He would be safe, only if he could resume
the part of Cranston without anyone learning that he had temporarily been The
Shadow.
There was still a way whereby that could be accomplished.
The way was to prevent the departure of the lurker who had not managed to
clear from the cabin before The Shadow's return. That done, The Shadow could
take time to decide upon his next plans.
Turning from the doorway, The Shadow moved silently inward, to proceed
with his momentous task.


CHAPTER IX

EXIT THE SHADOW
 SEEKING that tense lurker was a matter that required utmost care. The
same
darkness that aided The Shadow also rendered his opponent invisible. Moreover,
The Shadow was running a risk that increased with every moment.
Once the other man suspected what was up, he could take measures of his
own. A wild shout would certainly bring members of the crew to Cranston's
cabin. That would start the very battle that The Shadow wanted to avoid.
Therefore, The Shadow applied special strategy. As he moved about the
cabin, first toward the porthole, then in the direction of the berth, he
allowed slight sounds to reveal his approximate location. By those, The Shadow
made it seem that he hadn't learned of the other man's presence.
Moreover, he was craftily coaxing his unknown quarry into a crucial move.
The Shadow was opening a path toward the door, so that the fellow would try to
reach it, The maneuver was neat, but it couldn't be overdone; otherwise, the
man would have a chance to actually slide out. The thing to do was hold him,
by
some different strategy, when he reached the door.
In any room, that crafty game of guesswork would have been remarkable. In
this cabin, it was doubly momentous. In that darkness, the participants were
like caged creatures confined in a square-walled box that some giant hand was
tossing back and forth, to suit its changing whims.
For the Marmora, wending an idle northwest course, was neither heading
into the sea nor following the troughs of waves. The yacht was varying rolls
with pitches, and to keep their footing, both The Shadow and his crouching
visitor had to stay close to any fixed objects that they could grab.
The Shadow had reached the berth at last. He was confident that the other
man was near the door. Something was needed to hold him there, and The Shadow