Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 048 by Maxwel l Grant

Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 048 by Maxwel l Grant

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


CHAPTER XIV. PRESTON GIVES ADVICE

RUGGLES PRESTON was seated in the living room of his apartment. The place was not commodious,

for the Mandrilla was a rather antiquated building of cramped proportions. The apartment, however, was comfortable, and gave an impression of affluence.

The lawyer was at a small desk in the corner. Papers lay before him. At one side was a list of names. A dozen in all, they included persons who had gained success in worldly affairs. Among them was the name of Worth Varden. This had been crossed by a blue-penciled stroke.

Preston was consulting notations that he had made. He took his notes, tore them into fragments, and applied a match to the cluster of tiny sheets. He dropped the burning papers into a metal wastebasket, and went back to his desk, where only the list remained.

From a desk drawer, Preston produced a sheet of gray paper that spread into two portions as he pressed it between thumb and forefinger. Referring to his list of names, reverting to memory of the notations that he had just made, Preston inscribed a coded message. This completed, he moistened the edges of the gray sheets, and pressed them together so that they formed what appeared to be a single piece of paper.

Preston folded this. He inserted it in an envelope. He drew a slide from the desk and slipped his list of names into a pair of tiny grooves that lay beneath it. The slide went back into the desk. Preston's list was effectively out of sight.

The envelope that contained the message was another matter. Preston glanced at a clock on the desk. It registered five minutes of eight. The lawyer tucked the envelope in his pocket and strolled from his apartment. When he reached the street, he walked along until he spied a parked coupe.

The car was empty; the window by the sidewalk was open at the top— just the fraction of an inch.

Looking about, Preston made sure that no one was watching. He drew out his envelope and dropped it through the slit at the top of the window.

The lawyer had delivered his letter in an odd sort of mailing box. That task done, Preston returned to the apartment building. It was several minutes before a man came strolling along the street to stop at the coupe. This individual unlocked the car, entered it, and drove away.

A passing light showed the face of the man who had come to get Ruggles Preston's message. It was a face that belonged in the underworld, yet which had frequently been seen elsewhere. The letter collector was Snakes Blakey.

BACK in his apartment, Ruggles Preston slouched idly in a large chair and lighted a cigar. The aroma of heavy smoke pervaded the atmosphere of the room. The attorney seemed comfortably pleased with life.

His face took on a gleaming smile of happy satisfaction.

Preston sobered as he heard the ring of the apartment telephone. A puzzled look appeared upon the lawyer's face. Striding to a corner of the living room, Preston picked up the telephone and lifted the receiver.



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