"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 214 - The Green Terror" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

Gaylord nodded as he read it. The sending of an employee by French was not unusual. French was the
busy head of a large insurance firm. He was also one of the bank's most valued customers. A request like
this was not to be ignored.

Gaylord, however, was cautious enough to examine the signature under the bright circle of his desk lamp.
He was a personal friend of French and familiar with his signature. He found it to be genuine.

But there was something about the manner of the gaunt clerk with the suitcase that made Gaylord
hesitate. The man seemed ill at ease. The hand that rested on the vice president's desk was trembling
slightly.

Gaylord said curtly, "Just a moment." He glanced at the letterhead and reached for his telephone. He
dialed the office telephone number of Daniel French.

"This is Gaylord speaking, from the Coastal Bank," he said. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. French, but there's
a man here who says he's an employee of yours."

"You mean Hilbert? That's quite all right. Please see that he's given every courtesy. And by the way, how
about a round of golf with me next Saturday? I'd like revenge for the last time you trimmed me."

Gaylord grinned. French was an ideal golf opponent. He played poorly and always insisted on large side
bets.

The vice president hung up and scribbled a pass. Hilbert took it and went down the rear marble staircase
to the basement of the bank. When he showed his pass, the guard unlocked the massive barred gate and
admitted French's clerk to the vault.

Hilbert set his leather suitcase down on the floor and stared timidly about as the vault attendant reached
for the master key that was necessary to complete the unlocking of any of the safe-deposit boxes that
lined the inner wall of the vault.

There were three or four customers in the vault, but Hilbert seemed more interested in a large mirror that
hung on the wall beyond them.

His voice sounded shrill as he pointed to the mirror.

"Good heavens! What a queer color!"

The customers followed the direction of Hilbert's pointing finger. So did the startled gaze of the vault
attendant. The whole surface of the mirror was a bright pink! As they watched, they saw the pink color
deepen rapidly. It changed to blood-red!

No one noticed that Hilbert was no longer staring toward the mirror. He had bent quickly over the
suitcase on the floor. His thin fingers unstrapped it with a swift gesture.

Inside the suitcase was a metal box. It seemed to be made of lead. There was a small button on the top
of the metal box. Hilbert pressed it.

Instantly the four sides of the metal box dropped flat.