"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 279 - The Freak Show Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

thought he could never gain.
Soon the musical clatter of the wheels was driving all other thoughts
from
Steve's tired brain, including his recollections of The Harlequin, that
piebald
creature of murder.


CHAPTER III

LAMONT CRANSTON sat in a corner of Treft's reception room and listened
idly
to the reports concerning the murder of the mansion's owner.
Outside, the afternoon sky was darkened by heavy rain clouds that
maintained an incessant drizzle, the continuation of a downpour that had begun
the night before. In the room, the local coroner continued to repeat the facts
that Treft's servants had recited.
Of the several strangers present, all were stockholders in Associated
Metallurgy, the company that had delegated Steve Kilroy to negotiate with
Milton
Treft regarding the purchase of a wonder-metal called alumite. Having missed
their opportunity to acquire that important prize, these men were naturally
interested in the case; at least all were except Cranston.
Outwardly, Cranston appeared bored, which led his companions to wonder
why
he had come all the way from New York over a matter which didn't interest him.
It began to strike them that Cranston had another reason; perhaps he felt
slighted because the directors of Associated Metallurgy had not informed him
beforehand of their intention to purchase alumite.
 Cranston didn't feel slighted on that point; he was regretful. If he had
been notified of this deal in advance, Treft wouldn't have been murdered, for
Cranston would have come here ahead of Steve Kilroy, not as himself, but as
another personality known as The Shadow. Therefore Cranston's present purpose
was to rectify an oversight on the part of others and he was bored because the
investigation had stalled.
The stalling point was Steve Kilroy. Sheer weight of evidence caused the
directors of Associated Metallurgy to yield to the local opinion that Steve
was
the murderer. To Cranston, such a theory was nonsense. In his mind's eye, he
could picture an unknown factor in the case, though he had never met nor heard
of the piebald criminal who by his costume deserved the name "The Harlequin."
There came an end to the coroner's report and with it, Cranston's
indolence
lessened, though his tone was still somewhat bored when he inquired:
"Tell me, coroner, what was the motive behind this murder?"
"Robbery, suh!" returned the coroner. "Downright robbery. Downright and
outright."
"Robbery of what?"
"Of Mr. Treft's strong-room in the cellar. It's clean empty, bare as a
parcel of burnt-out out timber land."