Shadow 174 - The Three Brothers 05-15-39, The by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant [Grant, Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Street and Smith
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

IRENE stood in the doorway. She formed a lovely picture, a vision in silver lame, which glimmered with the sheen of moonlight. She could not have chosen a more attractive dinner gown for this setting, where oak-paneled walls and sparse lights provided a subdued background.

There was gladness in Irene’s smile; her welcome, when she was introduced to Cranston, indicated that she was quite happy in these surroundings.

One question, at least, had been solved. The Shadow had learned where Irene had eventually gone, after her sudden disappearance. Perhaps his smile, the sort that a man like Cranston would give upon being introduced to so charming a girl as Irene, had something of the inscrutable in it. For, with The Shadow, discoveries such as this were apt to be the result of deduction, rather than coincidence.

If, however, Lamont Cranston had expected to meet Irene Selwood in this mansion, neither the girl nor Howard Caxter suspected it. Nor did they guess that his masklike features were restraining all expression of the elation that he felt.

The three dined in a large room, where wavering candlelight added a shimmer to Irene’s silvery attire and brought occasional sparkles to her attractive brown eyes. Howard Caxter was a courteous host, and he did not forget Irene in the course of his conversation.

“Miss Selwood is a very old friend of mine,” he told Cranston. “Not in years, of course, because she is delightfully young, but in my recollection. Her father” - his tone became serious - “is a man to whom I owe a debt that can never be repaid. He was my tutor, and my confidant, through the days of my troubled youth.

“As for Irene” - he beamed happily, as he looked at the girl - “if she would tell you her age, I could state the precise number of years that I have known her. I remember her as a baby, as a child, and now” - Howard drew a deep sigh - “I see her as a lovely woman, a credit to the man I most admire, her father!”

Howard Caxter raised his wineglass, as in a personal toast to Norman Selwood. Irene lowered her eyes, managed to smile away her momentary embarrassment. Then:

“I had a letter from father today,” she said. “He said that he will be here soon; perhaps within a week.”

Howard nodded. After a short pause, he questioned: “Has Philip written you?”

“No.” Irene pursed her lips. “I don’t think he will. I’ve rather decided to forget Philip” - her tone lost its slightly formal trace - “until I have seen dad.”

“That might be wise,” agreed Howard, with an approving nod. “Of all the men I know, none is better qualified to give advice than your father.”

There was a lull in the conversation, which Howard ended when he turned to The Shadow.

“Miss Selwood refers to my brother Philip,” he said. “You will probably meet him later. He is full of youth, romance, and all the happy-go-lucky thoughts that go with it.”

“But wise enough,” suggested The Shadow, casually, “to abide by the decisions of his eldest brother.

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