"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 288 - Merry Mrs.MacBeth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"Looks nice, the cauldron set. What are you going to do, jack-knife it on and off whenever you need the
witches?"

Guylan shook his head.

"We'll have to fly it off," he replied. "It isn't as heavy as it looks. There's the rigging we're going to use to
test it"

Guylan pointed high to a sand-bag hanging above the right wing, stage front, and Dundee saw a rope
running over one pulley to another near the back of the stage, then down behind the scenery of the wing.
Approving the simplicity of the device, Dundee started out through the stage door, while Guylan wearily
removed a chair that was near the right front of the stage.

"For Mr. Harthorne," remarked Guylan, referring to the chair. "Only he didn't come to see the rehearsal.

"He never comes any more." Guylan gave his head a sad shake. "I'll have to ask him why when we meet
at his apartment this evening."

Terry Dundee caught those comments before he reached the stage door, but reserved opinion, even to
himself, until he reached the darkness of the outside alley. There in the dusk of the gathering evening,
Terry Dundee looked back and chuckled.

It was an ugly chuckle, indicating that Mr. Dundee had learned all he wanted--and more--regarding
Merry Mrs. Macbeth!

II.
IF Terry Dundee hadn't tried to include the entire Half Moon Theatre in his final glance from the street, he
might have seen the figure that moved from within the depths of the alley.

With a glide that would have done credit to the balcony ghost, the figure moved silently to the alley's
mouth and there took up Dundee's trail. Even then, it was doubtful that Terry could have spotted the
stalking form if he had looked back.

At no time did the tall stalker reveal himself along this darkened street. At all times he was shadowy,
giving only the impression of a figure in a dark cape. Apparently he had been waiting to pick up Dundee's
trail and did not intend to lose it nor let his part be known.

Hesitating only momentarily, Dundee gave a wide berth to the dim-lighted front of the grimy sidearm
lunch room where Zachary Verne had his coffee after rehearsal. Terry knew what it would mean to hold
a chat with the blathering old character actor; Verne would give him reminiscences galore and expect to
see them all in print.

Other business was more pressing, the sort that Dundee wanted to conclude secretly.

By the time Dundee had reached a better-lighted neighborhood, there wasn't a trace of the man who
stalked him. By then, Dundee's destination could have become apparent to anyone who knew.

On a side street very close to Broadway, Dundee paused between a shoe shine parlor and a hot dog
establishment; then stepped to a narrow doorway just between. Striking a match to light a cigarette,
Dundee turned and gave the street a double-squinted survey. Then he reached behind him, turned the