"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 250 - Death About Town" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

WITH a low-toned laugh that worried Laverock, The Shadow crumpled the sheet of paper and thrust it
beneath his cloak. Then came The Shadow's sibilant tone:

"Scarcely necessary, your signature, considering the evidence that the police have already discovered
against you, Laverock."

Nervously, Laverock lifted his gaze to meet The Shadow's steady eves.

"They found your revolver, Laverock," The Shadow continued. "Under the grating, where you dropped
it. Your permit turned up here, in your desk."

Laverock came half up in his chair.

"That revolver was stolen!" he exclaimed. "Stolen, I tell you! I kept it in my locker at the Avenue Club. If
they found it anywhere else, someone must have taken it first!"

"And the permit?"

"It was here," admitted Laverock. "I came to get it, along with the correspondence that I had with Orvill.
But I wasn't going back to the club. I was afraid they'd be looking for me there."

The Shadow gestured to the antique pistol that was lying on the desk.

"Why did you bring this, Laverock?"

"I thought I might need it," Laverock replied. "It belongs to a friend of mine, who collects old firearms.
He is away, so I stopped at his apartment and found it there."

"You are staying at that apartment?"

Laverock hesitated, then nodded. The Shadow's voice had taken on a tone which struck Laverock as
friendly. Tension suddenly ending, Laverock began a verbal outpour, and his words carried the ring of
sincerity.

First, he admitted that, while pulling his car out from the curb, he had seen Orvill across the street. Next,
there had been sounds like shots, which Laverock took for the backfire of his own car, which had been
acting queerly ever since he had taken it from the garage, at noon.

Seeing Orvill fall, Laverock realized that the man might have been shot. By then, Laverock was almost to
the corner, and a panic seized him when he heard a hue and cry behind him. It had occurred to him that
people might be blaming him for the shots, but he was also stricken with the fear that whoever had shot
Orvill might be after him, too, since he had witnessed the affair.

So Laverock had fled, abandoning his car later. Reaching the apartment of his absent and unnamed
friend, he had listened to meager radio reports that blamed him for Orvill's death.

There, in sum total, was Laverock's story. Concluding it, Laverock added a determined statement.

"I'm not giving myself up," Laverock announced. "I've been framed, and I'd be playing right into the
hands of the enemy. I'd rather stay at large until this blows over."