"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 231 - Garden of Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

the course that The Shadow had taken. Dashing across, they heard the smash of a window and darted in
that direction, only to tangle with other officers, coming through the front.

The Shadow, meanwhile, was hurrying up the front stairs, intending to find a back route down again.
Unfortunately, the police recovered from their mix-up in time to turn toward the stairs, themselves. As
flashlights swept the steps in an upward bath of light, they threatened to expose The Shadow at the
landing, where the stairway turned.

Still desirous of escaping unsighted, The Shadow vaulted the banister and landed squarely in the rear hall,
near the table there. It was a clever ruse, a reversal of his course in vertical fashion, rather than in the
usual horizontal style.

Of four police heading for the stairway, not one saw The Shadow's sideward leap and the drop that
followed it. The clatter of their own feet drowned the light sound with which the cloaked fugitive ended
his drop.

Another turn, a short dash, and The Shadow would have either of two routes - through the front door, or
the side. Again, luck went against him.

A fifth flashlight gleamed from a door that slashed wide near the rear of the hallway. The Shadow had
scarcely time to whisk away before the glow was full upon him. At that, the flashlight's owner, a cop who
had entered from the kitchen door, managed to spy a diving, though undistinguishable, shape.

This time, The Shadow's strategy was even more remarkable. Headlong, he gauged the exact position of
Harvey's body, which his first pursuers had so far missed. Clearing the butler's dead form, The Shadow
continued toward the front door. The cop from the kitchen sped his flashlight in pursuit, but stopped it on
Harvey.

THE officer had every reason to suppose that Harvey represented the man who had dived from the
glare. With a shout, the lone pursuer reached the dead butler and stooped beside him, yelling that he had
made a capture.

Police on the stairway came about, to join him; but there was one who hadn't quite reached the stairs.
That fellow turned, his flashlight swinging with him. He caught a passing glimpse of The Shadow, opening
the front door.

The Shadow changed his course instantly, for he heard the shout that accompanied the sweep of light. He
saw that his discoverer was springing toward him, and he had to settle the flashlight before its blinding eye
focused full upon him. The thing that The Shadow used was an old umbrella stand by the front door.

Circular in shape, the umbrella stand formed a solid and fairly heavy cylinder, some four feet high.
Dumping the umbrellas and canes from within it, The Shadow sent the cylinder rolling on its side with the
sincere urge that a bowler puts behind an anticipated ten-strike.

It took two pins, the cop's legs. Floundering to the floor, the bluecoat lost his flashlight. On hands and
knees, he scrambled after it; but by the time he regained his feet, The Shadow was gone.

His route was toward the curtained living room, and The Shadow had a weapon, which he would
certainly need, for police revolvers had begun to talk. The Shadow's weapon wasn't a gun; it was one of
Bendleton's canes, which he scooped up from the floor.