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

with it. He turned around and saw Lamont Cranston standing in the doorway to
Aldriff's den. Joe felt his momentary surprise fade. He was used to that
tingling sensation when people looked at him behind his back.
"Thought you'd gone along with the others, Mr. Cranston," said Joe.
"There's nothing worth while looking at around here. This suicide is an
open-and-shut case."
"Call it shut and open," suggested Cranston. "I understand that the room
was closed when Aldriff died, and that they broke into it later, to find the
body."
Cardona nodded.
"It's the same thing either way," he declared. "But the door wasn't all
that was broken. Look at this mess!"
It really was a mess. Even the big moose head was off the wall, lying in
a
corner where someone had kicked it. Books were everywhere, and Aldriff's cups
were scattered, for the trophy case had been overturned in the melee. Vases
and
ship model were smashed; they had proven excellent missiles in the wild fray.
Picking his way through the shambles, Joe reached the nook in the far
wall
of the room and turned around.
"I'd like to have seen this dump before they wrecked it," vouchsafed the
inspector. "If Kelburn had only waited a while before pulling that masked
gunner
act! He was probably sneaking around outside, and decided to come in when he
saw
the excitement. He couldn't have waited much longer, considering he intended
to
take a plane."
The quiet Mr. Cranston could have informed Cardona that Kelburn had been
sneaking around. The stocky man near the sun porch and the fugitive in the car
were enough alike to be classed as one and the same. The masked interlude,
however, was another question.
The intruder had disguised himself with mask, crouch, and voice. In
denying
that he could have been her uncle, Joan was merely being loyal. She really
didn't know. Nevlin, owing loyalty to Aldriff, had branded the masked man as
Kelburn, only to let his claim weaken and admit he wasn't sure.
It was a case wherein The Shadow, himself, would not have cared to give
an
absolute opinion.
"Some society reporter took photos before the room was wrecked," informed
Cardona. "We called his office, and they're sending us the developed plates."
"Clever chaps, those society reporters," observed Cranston. "Perhaps this
one doubled back and was the masked man."
"Not a chance," snorted Cardona. "A couple of other reporters met him
coming out. They knew he had a story as well as pictures, so they practically
ganged him. Hopped in the same cab with him, and would have chucked his camera
out the window, if he hadn't made a deal that would give their sheets copies
of