Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 224 by The Thunder King

Author:The Thunder King
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-15T00:48:34+00:00

Suddenly, Cranston extinguished the lighter. His eyes gazed sharply through the windshield. For a passing moment, Margo thought that she could see those eyes glint, as though retaining the reflection of the dead flame.

"That chap who just came from Thorden's gate," remarked Cranston. "Does he remind you of Wilbert?"

The question made Margo shudder. The man was reminiscent of Wilbert. He happened to be Blandle, but Margo could not see his face. His build was rangy, and his shoulders had a stoop as he sidled to a car across the way. Those characteristics were too similar to Wilbert's to suit Margo. Then, tensely, Margo said:

"He couldn't be Wilbert, Lamont. Wilbert is dead -"

"Of course," interposed Cranston, "You misunderstood me, Margo. I meant: would you class him as a man of Wilbert's type?"

"Why, yes -"

"Wilbert was working for Kelber, as a private investigator. Perhaps this fellow, whoever he is, may be serving Thorden in the same capacity."

Blandle's car was starting. Instinctively, Margo put her coupe in motion. She heard Cranston's mild, but approving laugh.

"Adventurous as ever, Margo," he chuckled. "I suppose you will insist upon following the chap and finding out who he really is. Drop me off somewhere, so that I can get to the club. If you learn anything interesting, call me there. But stay away from places like Highway 95."

"Don't worry," returned Margo. "Maybe you've forgotten that I'm leaving at midnight on my vacation. I have the Pullman ticket right here in my purse, and tomorrow, I'll be with a hiking party somewhere in the White Mountains."

"Still a girl scout at heart," approved Cranston, in a bantering tone. "Ah, here's a red light, and I see a taxicab around the corner. So I'll drop off. Send me some picture post cards of rugged mountain scenery, so I can appreciate how nice it is to stay in New York."

MARGO did not notice the cloak and hat that Cranston carried, bundled, as he stepped from the coupe.

She was too interested in following Blandle's car.

As the trail continued, Margo did look into the mirror, on the chance that Cranston might have decided to follow her in the cab that he had taken. But the cab had gone in another direction. Cranston was actually going to the Cobalt Club, as he had stated.

Keeping well behind Blandle's car, Margo managed to hold sight of it. When it parked near a side-street restaurant called the Platinum Grill, Margo was lucky enough to find another space for her coupe. She also caught a glimpse of Blandle's face as he entered the lighted restaurant. He didn't even glance back in Margo's direction.

Entering the restaurant herself, Margo felt quite free of any danger, provided that she used good sense.

She was quite sure that Cranston's departure to the Cobalt Club was tacit agreement on that point.

Tonight's events could not, in Margo's opinion, lead to any scene of disaster as had her trip to Highway 95, a few nights ago. She'd simply find out what she could about the rangy man who had come from Thorden's, call it an evening, and take the midnight train.

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