"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 269 - The Golden Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Be a good guy, Murphy," Riker said hastily. "After all, doctors are human. Promise me you won't tell
anyone that you caught me off my duty post?"

"O.K.," Murphy said. "Only, for Pete's sake, let's get going! We've lost nearly three minutes."

Riker raced with him to the ambulance. The motor roared. The ambulance sped from the wide, paved
courtyard to the street.

There was a thin, satisfied grin on the lips of Dr. Riker as he balanced himself on the rear seat.

It was like a smirk of triumph.

ABOUT five minutes after the ambulance had vanished up the street behind the crimson glow of its
headlights, a figure appeared in the paved courtyard.

It slipped quietly through the courtyard gate from the dark sidewalk. Skirting the black edge of the
courtyard, the man hurried toward a small door.

He ducked swiftly into the darkened office that Dr. Riker had quit so ostentatiously only a few minutes
earlier. Passing through the inner door, he moved along the short hallway where Riker had halted to
smear his lips with the phony alibi of a "kiss."

This hallway connected with a larger corridor. It was a rear corridor, used chiefly by hospital employees.
Nearby was the receiving room, where emergency patients brought in by the ambulance were given a
thorough examination before they were transferred to a ward bed.

The man opened the door of the receiving room briefly and peeped inside. But he didn't delay more than
a second. His first goal was an upper floor of the hospital. He headed swiftly toward a flight of service
stairs.
No one in the well-lighted rotunda of the hospital caught a glimpse of this flitting figure. His sly method of
entrance had placed him well beyond the range of vision of the uniformed attendant at the information
desk.

He raced silently up the service stairs to the top floor. This top floor area contained the operating theater,
and various technical and X-ray laboratories.

No one saw the stealthy intruder dart toward a locked door at one end of the hall.

It was the entrance to the cancer-research laboratory of Dr. Sutton.

The ground-glass panel in the door was dark, indicating that the laboratory was empty. This was exactly
what the intruder had expected.

He had no trouble with the lock. He used a key. Closing the door swiftly behind him, he vanished inside.
He was inside no longer than two minutes. He reappeared as silently as he had vanished, careful to lock
the door again.

Gloved fingers left no trace of revealing prints.

Once more he hurried along the corridor. This time his swift pace took him downstairs. Only, he used a