Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 019 by Maxwel l Grant

Author:Maxwel,l Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW DEPARTS

DENSE gloom had descended upon the room on the second floor of Ivan Motkin's residence. The early dusk of a long Moscow night was all-pervading. Prensky, seated by the front window, arose softly and turned on a light above the desk.

The mild illumination threw a soft glow through the room. It revealed the form of the man who had called himself Henry Arnaud, still resting in the chair by a side window.

In methodical manner, Prensky drew down the front window shade; then performed the same action at the window where Henry Arnaud still slept.

The clock on the mantel showed half past seven. Prensky, now in the center of the room, paused and rubbed his smooth chin. A wicked light gleamed in his dark, shifty eyes. He grinned in anticipation.

Noting the black cloak and hat lying on a chair where Motkin had tossed them, Prensky picked up the garments and examined them. These had been a disguise. Now, they would answer for a shroud.

While Prensky smiled maliciously, he sensed that some one was watching him. He looked quickly toward the chair by the window. The prisoner had opened his eyes, and was watching. Prensky's evil grin turned suddenly to a token of friendliness.

"These are yours," he declared, in Russian. "You may have them, when you leave."

Arnaud's eyes stared blankly, and Prensky remembered that the man had shown a complete ignorance of the Russian language. Slowly, Prensky repeated the statement in broken English, the best that he could

command. Henry Arnaud nodded and smiled to show that he understood.

Weakly, he attempted to rise from his chair. The effort was sufficient for him to observe the clock; then he slumped back into the seat and lay exhausted.

"I am to leave before eight o'clock," he said, in slow tones. "You understand that? Eight o'clock."

Prensky nodded.

"You would like to leave more soon?" he questioned.

"Yes," said Arnaud wearily.

"You may leave now," declared Prensky, in a friendly tone.

He folded the black cloak and laid it on a chair. Upon it, he placed the slouch hat. He advanced to the chair and placed his left hand upon the wounded man's shoulders. He brought Arnaud up to a sitting position.

"Rest a moment," said Prensky, in a mechanical tone. "You are still too weak."

Arnaud nodded. He raised his right arm, and placed it over Prensky's shoulders. The Russian could feel the weakness of the grasp. With his left hand, Arnaud gripped Prensky's right shoulder. He seemed to be gathering all his strength for an effort to rise to his feet.

Prensky's right hand slipped beneath his own coat. He raised his body slightly; then relaxed and let Arnaud slide back into the chair. The man's hands still rested on Prensky's shoulders, but their grip was weak.

"Rest a moment," repeated Prensky.

Arnaud nodded wearily and closed his eyes. Prensky withheld a grim laugh. His lips were grimacing as he appreciated the ease with which he could now accomplish his fell purpose. His right hand stole from beneath his coat, bringing forth a long, sharp knife.

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