The Devil Monsters by Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson

Author:Maxwell Grant & Walter Gibson [Grant, Maxwell & Gibson, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Thrillers
Publisher: Street & Smith
Published: 1943-02-20T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI. MARK OF DOOM

THE DEATHLY silence was indeed complete, because, among other things, the ringing of the telephone bell had ceased. Had the sound continued, it could have been heard on the porch, but Harry didn't notice its absence. He was waiting, hope as good as gone, to see what might happen when the soft-footed dogs reached their prey.

If The Shadow still lived, he could handle them. He might have to shoot them, but it would be warranted if the dogs attacked him. Then, as the beasts reached the trees, Harry felt a mingled surge of hope and horror.

Something was standing there between two trees, for the dogs made a leap at it. But the thing didn't even try to beat them off! They pawed and worried in a way that Harry couldn't understand.

Someone was asking Grebb's servants why they didn't go and see what the dogs were about. They replied cautiously that they didn't want to visit that spot at night. It was the stone wall where they'd found a mangled body of a prowler close to a turn in the road. So that was the thing between the trees–the stone wall!

The dogs were starting to nose about the wall. This time, they would surely find The Shadow. Angrily, Harry swung to tell the servants that he'd go where they wouldn't. He stopped short when he saw the man who was speaking to the servants.

Lamont Cranston, nonchalant as ever, was standing right by the front door, gesturing idly with a thin cigar that rested between his fingers!

Like a thing out of a very distant past, Grebb's telephone bell began to ring again. The calm smile that Cranston was giving Harry turned to a slight-traced frown. Cranston's impassive eyes became alert as they surveyed the group, noting that it had an absentee.

Casual but steady came Cranston's query:

“Where is Grebb?”

“In his den.” Harry nudged in through the front door. “We left him ten minutes ago; maybe more. That's the third time somebody has tried to ring him up.”

Without a word, Cranston strode into the house, his manner as commanding as it had been at Althrop's. He reached the den door and knocked there. His immobile face did not show worry, but Harry's did and the servants saw it. They linked Harry's expression with the wild things that Thull had shouted on arrival.

Like trained seals, the servants appeared suddenly, one with a crowbar, the other with an ax. After giving the doorknob another try, Cranston took the ax and slashed the edge of the door. He returned the ax, received the crowbar and applied it to the place that he had chopped. A deep pry, a deft wrench, and the door flew open.

There lay Dariel Grebb, huddled on the hearth before the open fire, which was burning briskly, with occasional crackles. While Harry stopped to answer the telephone and learn that it was Stan, Cranston approached Grebb's figure. The servants were hurrying to open the windows, but Cranston stopped them with a gesture.

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