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

The barman in the joint had once done time. Moe began to feel a grim tug of excitement. He had a hunch
that crime of some sort was hatching.

He left his cab and slouched close to the grill's dusty window. He could see Romine, but the crook
couldn't see him. Romine's attention seemed to be centered on the telephone back of the bar.

He was evidently waiting for a call.

SHREVVY faded to another telephone. He called a number unlisted in any New York directory. He
was answered almost instantly. A voice said crisply:

"Burbank speaking."

Burbank was The Shadow's contact man. Through him, orders concerning The Shadow and his agents
were received and transmitted. To Burbank went a swift report concerning Sam Romine.

Shrevvy waited without breaking the connection. After a minute or so he heard again the voice of
Burbank. The relayed order of The Shadow was succinct:

"Stand by!"
Moe went back to his cab. He began to read a newspaper. From where he sat he had a sidelong view of
the interior of the grill where Romine sat.

Presently, Shrevvy heard a sibilant whisper of laughter. It came from directly behind him. The Shadow
had noiselessly entered the taxi of his agent.

Eyes like reddish flame stared at Moe from beneath the brim of a black slouch hat. The Shadow's cloak
merged with the darkness of the cab's rear seat. His eyes and his strongly beaked face were the only
indications of his presence.

A whisper ordered Moe to remain where he was. Silence filled the rear of the parked taxi.

The rear seat was now empty. The Shadow had left the cab as deftly as he had entered. Protected by
darkness, he moved to another spot. This time he vanished inside the unlocked sedan of Sam Romine.

His inspection was more thorough than that of the two cops in the prowl car. He bent over the rumpled
lap robe in the rear. His nostrils sniffed a faint odor.

He recognized that odor. His lips formed two silent words: "Chloral hydrate."

They didn't call it that in the underworld. "Knockout drops" was the term commonly used. But the
purpose of such a drug was unmistakable. Someone had been doped and transported in this car very
recently.

The Shadow returned unseen to the taxi of Moe Shrevnitz. He began a patient vigil.

Sam Romine was still watching the bar telephone. He seemed very nervous. Each time the phone rang,
Romine started uneasily. But each time the barkeep answered the call, his face turned slightly. His head
shook a warning "No" to Romine.