"Shadow - Back Pages - 401201 - Hook McGuire Gives A Bowling Lesson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moffat George Allan)

then disappeared.
Hook circled the rear of the house, came to a back door. He tried it, but it was
locked. He went to a window alongside it, raised it silently and slipped inside a
dark kitchen.
He crawled across the floor on his hands and knees, his right hand reaching
out in front of him. His fingers touched the wall and then the door. The door
opened with a little pressure, and Hook got to his feet and walked down a narrow
corridor.
He stopped in front of the door of the lighted room. The sound of a man's
footsteps inside the room could be heard. Hook tried the door. It wasn't locked,
and it opened with a dismal squeak.
Professor Hendrick, pacing the floor, stopped abruptly, turned on Hook
McGuire with a snarling expression of hate on his thin face. This expression left
in a flash and Professor Hendrick was again the poor refugee that he always
appeared.
"Sorry to break in like this, professor," Hook McGuire said easily, his eyes
taking in every part of the room, "but you lost the stub to your ticket to the lecture
of the other night, and I wanted to bring it to you."
Hook noticed every detail of the room as he talked. It was rather poorly
furnished, with a desk at one end and several chairs and a ragged carpet on the
floor.
Professor Hendrick's eyes narrowed and the scar on his right cheek got whiter.
Hook tossed the ticket stub on the professor's desk, and added:
"I found this in Professor Minton's laboratory. You know, Professor Minton
was murdered this evening, about an hour ago."
"Murdered!" Professor Hendrick gasped, playing his part with amazing skill.
"I don't understand! You say you found this stub in his laboratory, and he was
murdered ... my good friend, murderedЧ" There was a cold smile on Hook
McGuire's face, as he looked at the professor. Casually, Hook walked past the
professor to look at a picture on the wall. He passed within inches of the
professor as he did.
"Interesting picture," Hook said.
"Yes, very interesting," the professor murmured. "But tell me more about my
poor friend, Professor Minton. I can't..."
The smile was still on Hook McGuire's lips. He said: "You understand plenty,
Professor Hendrick, and suppose we stop playing at acting. You murdered
Professor Minton You covered all your tracks but one; a very interesting one!"

The slim body of Professor Hendrick stiffened. The muscles in his face
tightened. The look of an abused refugee left his face. It was hard and cold and
ruthless.
His right hand was in his coat pocket, fingers gripping his automatic. Hook
sauntered over to a chair, sat down easily, his eyes on the professor's coat pocket.
"I wouldn't use that gun in your coat pocket," Hook said, "because before you
could turn that gun on me, you'd be drilled three times!"
Professor Hendrick's hand came out of his coat pocket. "Perhaps," he
admitted, with amazing coolness, "you could do just that. I am interested,
however, Detective McGuire, in finding out why you think I killed Professor
Minton. I am quite sure that stub wasn't mine, and I am very sure that it would
make you look foolish in any court."