"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 173 - Death's Harlequin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Good evening, Mr. Cranston. A pleasure to see you in Washington again. Are you planning
to remain long?"
"Just a day or so. I'm on my way West to do a little hunting in the Rockies. I thought I'd stop
off and pick up some information about the best place to visit at this time of the year."
"The department of the interior should be able to help you."

Cranston nodded.
"That's what I thought. I'm planning to confer with Mr. Jim Whelan. I wrote him I was coming."

"Whelan?" the official echoed. "I wondered what brought him here so late at night. He's
waiting outside now."

Cranston was pleased. He hadn't wired the time of his arrival ahead, and had not expected
Whelan to take the trouble to drive out to meet him.

But Jim Whelan's greeting puzzled Cranston.
"Hello! Mighty glad to see you, old man! Hadn't the faintest idea you were due here tonight.
Thought you'd arrive later in the week."
"That's funny," Cranston said. "They told me you were waiting for me."

Whelan shook his head. There was a frown on his face and an uneasy glint in his eyes that
interested the observant Cranston. Ordinarily a talkative man, Whelan was almost taciturn
tonight. He was both puzzled and angry, Cranston noticed. His guess was that Whelan had
come to meet someone else, someone who had failed to arrived at the airport.

Whelan's annoyed comment proved the truth of Cranston's guess.
"I can't understand it," he fumed. "I had a wire earlier this evening from Colonel Standish,
asking me to meet him here. Yet there's no sign of him. You'd expect an army officer to be
punctual. Damned annoying!"

He choked down his anger and remembered that he was scarcely being polite to his friend
Cranston. With a wave of his arm, he dismissed Colonel Standish from his mind.

"Let's get back to town. I have my car here. Shall I drop you at your hotel, or would you like to
stop at my apartment and have a highball with me?"
Cranston smiled.

"A highball sounds fine, provided you're in a mood to talk hunting and fishing with me."
"I'm always willing to talk on that subject," Whelan declared, wistfully. "Wish I could go along
with you. It's tough to be chained to a government desk."

WHELAN sent his car skimming swiftly along the smooth highway toward downtown
Washington. He did most of the talking and Cranston listened.

Cranston was still mildly interested in the strange behavior of Colonel Standish. He had met
Standish several times and knew him to be a man of precise habits. It wasn't like him to
send a telegram to a friend and then ignore it.
"Tell you what," Jim Whelan said suddenly, as the car raced smoothly along. "Why don't we
kill two birds with one stone? I've collected all the information you asked me to, in order to
help you arrange the best sort of hunting trip possible at this time of the year. The stuff is in