"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 243 - Room of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

BOTH Nevlin and Joan had been ardent in their search - the secretary
anxious to prove there was a hidden murderer; the girl desirous of
establishing
that there was none.
Near the trophy case, Joan sat in a chair that matched the flimsy ones in
the nook, and suggested that Nevlin count noses, to make sure no stranger was
among them. Nevlin turned to the doorway and tallied off the witnesses.
Rather than have the secretary count one too many, The Shadow dipped and
sidled back to the vestibule. He was turning toward the den again, when Nevlin
came out, accompanied by Joan. Others made way for them to pass, then followed
them.
The little group was blocking The Shadow's view of the reception hall,
when
a halt came. Stopping squarely in their tracks, people began to raise their
hands. Slowly, fearfully, they were backing away, returning into the room
where
Aldriff lay dead.
Why?
All were through the doorway, with the exception of Joan and Nevlin, when
The Shadow saw the cause of their retreat. A masked man was confronting them
with a gun; crouched, his body had a thickset look. His voice was forced and
ugly, as he made threatening gestures with his revolver.
Aldriff's death could well be defined as proven suicide, in a room where
no
murderer could possibly be hidden. But the threat of murder was looming over
others, the very witnesses who could swear that Aldriff had died by his own
hand.
Why this masked man, entering boldly by the front door, was anxious to
enter the sealed room of death, was a strange question in itself. Yet those
who
were shrinking, fearful for their lives, were not in the serious plight that
they supposed.
In the offing was a black-cloaked friend who could save them. No killer
ever lived who could commit open murder in the presence of The Shadow!


CHAPTER III

TWISTED FLIGHT

HIS own gun ready, The Shadow held a bead on the masked man, as the
latter
reached the open door of Aldriff's den. A single spurt from The Shadow's .45
might have sprawled the masked menace on the hallway floor. But the chance was
not a certainty.
The masked man was dealing with bolder customers than those who had first
cringed from his gun.
Joan and Nevlin were backing through the doorway, side by side, and both