"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 281 - Town of Hate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Plenty," assured Creswold. "We'd better stay indoors until this one passes. It will follow up the
Kawagha past the Old Bridge Tavern. That's where they all go and it's where they hit the hardest. But
let's get back to business."
"You mean Brett's business?"

"Or Bigby's." Creswold gave a canny smile. "They're both licked: Brett because he wants to rush
everything and make it grow too fast; Bigby because he won't uproot himself and turn reasonably
modern."

The sky was darkening rapidly and Lenstrom's face clouded with it. A flash of lightning revealed a
troubled expression on the man's countenance. Creswold was prompt to understand it.

"I wouldn't invest in Brett's expansion schemes," advised Creswold. "He's already having trouble from the
workers because he's been hiring outsiders. You've heard that, haven't you?"

Lenstrom gave a slow nod.

"It would be equally foolish to back Bigby if he wanted cash," added Creswold, glibly. "Those two are
going to cancel each other out like a couple of Kilkenny cats."

"And then?"

"Then there will be some sense in Lamira. The farmers and the town-folk will get together and really run
things right. The profit will be in local real estate and the enterprises that go with it. Now is the time to
buy into the real investments, while everybody is watching Bigby and Brett--"

There was a double interruption from the storm and Lenstrom's telephone. The coincidence of a lightning
flash and the jangle of the bell made the fat man hesitate. Smiling, Creswold picked up the telephone.

"I'll answer it," he said. "I've never had lightning shock me over the phone wires. Besides, the call is
probably for me. I left word that I'd be here and I have a lot of friends in this county. In fact"-- Creswold
was lifting the receiver-- "they call me everybody's friend."

The call was for Creswold and he had trouble making himself heard above the rumble of the thunder.
Away from the window, where rain was pelting furiously, Lenstrom caught snatches of the conversation.
At last Creswold said:

"Alright, I'll meet you there. Wait for me. I'm glad you have it fixed."

Turning toward Lenstrom, Creswold shrugged as he saw how heavily the storm was lashing at the
window. He had the air of a man accepting a task whether or not he liked it.

"I'll see you later, Lenstrom," said Creswold. "Meanwhile hold everything. I may have more to tell you.
One of my scouts has picked up a few new angles. There's a lot of them in this county--scouts and angles
both."

Lightning and thunder, teamed in a terrific broadside, followed Creswold's hurried departure from the
hotel room. Cringing beside the door, fearing to touch its metal knob, Lenstrom gave a fearful glance
toward the window.