"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 336 - Blackmail Bay" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

the kerosene lamp that illuminated the Lookout Room and proceeded to look out
across the bay.
It was completely dark by now, except for a thin crescent moon that
showed
through fleeting clouds, but from the blackness of the bay a semicircle of
glimmering lights marked the shore line of Round Island with its cottages and
boat houses. As Margo watched, a spot of green light gave two short blinks;
and
that was all she needed. Groping in a suitcase, Margo brought out a small but
powerful flashlight and affixed a transparent green cap over its lens. With
it,
she flashed two answering blinks from her window.
Two green flashes responded from Round Island. After a short interval, a
plain yellow light began a series of dots and dashes. Coming in a secret code
that Margo understood, they spelled a single word: M-I-D-N-I-G-H-T. In
response, Margo gave two green blinks to signify that she understood; then,
with a few hours to go, she lighted the table lamp and began going over notes
she had brought from Kroft's, while keeping an occasional eye on her wrist
watch.


AS midnight neared, Margo turned out the light, opened the door and
listened to make sure that all was silent in Moffat House. Then, putting on a
dark raincoat and a pair of black sneakers, she stole softly down the side
stairs and out through the door to a pair of steps at the end of the piazza.
From there, she made her way to the shore where an old rickety pier jutted out
into the bay, which was studded with white crests of wavelets that showed in
the midnight blackness. Reaching the shore line, she realized immediately why
midnight had been chosen as the meeting time.
It had been almost high tide when the 'Priscilla' had left Baxter Harbor
at noon for its forty minute trip to Spruce Island. Now, just twelve hours
later, the tide was reaching high again. Only a thin stretch of sand remained
between the incoming wavelets and the shore. This meant that a boat, instead
of
docking far out on the gangling pier to avoid the mud flats, could ride
completely over them - even to the very shore line - provided it had a flat
bottom.
As if in proof of Margo's theory, two green blinks came from beneath the
shore end of the pier and Margo made out the shape of a broad-beamed rubber
boat, its sides bulging with inflated air compartments. It had two occupants.
As Margo flicked an answer with her own flashlight, one man stepped from the
boat and approached with the quiet, recognizable greeting: "Hello, Margo."
It was Lamont Cranston.
Soon, Margo was seated beside him beneath the sheltering pier, going over
details of what she had learned so far. She told Lamont about her talk with
Lew
Barton, the insurance man; her brief meeting with Earl Torgesen, the
store-keeper; and with Ezra Hobbs, the jitney driver; as well as Madge Moffat
and her artist friend, Lester Blake. By then, they had to move closer to the
shore end of the pier, as the tide, still rising, was licking at their feet