"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 279 - The Freak Show Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell) FREAK SHOW MURDERS
by Maxwell Grant As originally published in "The Shadow Magazine," May 1944. The masked fiend had a perfect score, until the Shadow realized that the route of the Carnival coincided with the trail of death! CHAPTER I JUST before he reached Treft's mansion, Steve Kilroy saw The Harlequin. Steve didn't realize it at the time, for his mind was on other matters; besides he'd never heard of The Harlequin, that curious criminal character who was later to be confused with Steve himself. In fact, The Harlequin himself was confusing at first sight. Even in the glare from the headlights of Steve's car it was impossible to identify him as a human figure, for his costume formed a perfect camouflage in its present setting. Treft's curving driveway was flanked with magnolias and the blossoms of those trees produced a colorful weave with which The Harlequin blended. He simply seemed to shake himself loose from them and the glare of the lights as magnolia trees. Steve laughed at what he thought was a brief illusion. Here was Treft's mansion looming large in the Carolina moonlight, which though somewhat clouded was bright enough to show the open lawn. The living thing that had scudded from the driveway must have been imaginary, otherwise Steve would have spotted it again. So at least Steve thought, without considering the huge azalea beds that flanked the mansion. They, much more than the magnolias, were made to order as a background for the figure that Steve had actually seen. In the moonlight the flowers formed a patchwork of black and white, but when the veering headlights swept them, they became a galaxy of purple, pink and crimson, with splotches of pure white. Where the bed was thickest, there were a few dabs of colors not common to azaleas, but Steve didn't picture them as belonging to a huddled figure, motionless in its harlequin costume. More important to Steve Kilroy were the lighted windows in the corner of the mansion, just above the nearest flower bed. He was sure that they must represent the room where Milton Treft was waiting to discuss a sale that would conservatively involve a million dollars. As he brought the car to the big pillars that fronted the mansion, Steve jammed the brakes in real alarm. This time there was no mistaking the figure that sprang into view; it was human and it carried a double-barreled shotgun. |
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