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

There was a pleading note in Laverock's final words, and his eyes lighted when he saw that The Shadow
was giving them due consideration. At length, came The Shadow's query:

"You have friends who might help you?"

Laverock nodded.

"Rudolph Delmot would," he said. "He's an impartial chap, Delmot. Still, I wouldn't want to let him know
where I am staying, because be might feel honor-bound to tell the police. I have another friend, though, at
the Avenue Club -"

There, Laverock halted, fearful that he was saying too much. Singularly, The Shadow picked up the very
thoughts in Laverock's mind and put them into words.

"You would like to go back to the place where you are staying," spoke The Shadow, "and remain there
until you receive the all-clear signal. Should you be allowed to do so, you will co-operate, as far as you
are able, in tracking down the actual murderer of Dana Orvill."

While The Shadow spoke, Laverock was nodding with increased eagerness. After a brief pause, The
Shadow added:

"Your terms are accepted, Laverock. You may leave."

Half doubtful, Laverock arose from his chair and walked around the desk. Forgotten was the antique gun
that he had brought; nor did Laverock care about the Orvill correspondence.

Halfway to the door, he was looking back over his shoulder, still amazed by the fact that The Shadow
was calmly letting him leave. If ever The Shadow had built confidence into the mind of a hunted man, he
was doing it with James Laverock.

Then, at the most critical juncture, came the interruption that spelled near ruin to The Shadow's purpose.

THE door of the office swung inward. On the threshold stood the building watchman, a tough-faced man
who held a flashlight in one hand, a revolver in the other. He'd seen the light in Laverock's office while
making a return trip, and was stopping in to find out what it meant.

He found out, very suddenly.

Unleashed blackness launched across the office. The astonished watchman was caught in its swirl. Under
the forceful drive of The Shadow, the watchman took a headlong pitch, his flashlight flying one way, his
gun the other. Like Laverock before him, the watchman hadn't time to fire a single shot before his gun
was gone.

The Shadow was abiding by his terms. He was giving Laverock safe conduct. Here was Laverock's
opportunity to dash from the office and out of the building, while The Shadow was keeping the watchman
occupied. But Laverock, frantic, felt that he, too, should play a hand.

Springing back to the desk, Laverock grabbed his antique gun. He wheeled toward the corner, where
the watchman, coming up on hands and knees, was groping for his lost revolver. For the first time, the