Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 206 by The Man Who Died Twice

Author:The Man Who Died Twice
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-15T00:47:40+00:00

Stark was backed into the closet. The door slammed. There was a spring lock on the outside, that made the door impossible to open from within. Stark's fist began to pound against the inside panels.

"Help! Murder! Police!"

Benton could easily have killed the imprisoned millionaire by firing through the door, but he didn't.

Instead, he turned, hurdled Cranston's inert figure and raced out of the library.

There was an echo of flying feet from the front hall. Evidently Richard Benton was racing back to the parked car he had left in the shadow of the stone wall that hemmed in the grounds of Stark's estate.

The moment the fugitive lawyer vanished, Lamont Cranston returned to life. With a noiseless bound, he gained his feet. He glanced toward the locked closet inside which Stark was still pounding and yelling. A peculiar smile flitted across Cranston's lips. He tiptoed to a side window of the library.

Lamont Cranston dropped out the window to the dark turf of the grounds. He vanished into blackness the moment he passed through the radius of light from the library window. He was careful to tread lightly on his toes, to avoid making any deep impression in the spongy turf.

His goal was a certain spot within the stout stone wall that divided the grounds from the street.

Presently, he returned through the light from the library window, hurrying toward a point farther back in the grounds. A significant change had occurred. Lamont Cranston was gone. In his place was the black-cloaked figure of The Shadow.

RICHARD BENTON had done what The Shadow had anticipated. He had rushed straight for his parked car. He leaped in and started the motor. But he soon made an unwelcome discovery.

The car had barely rolled a few feet when Benton realized that both the rear tires were as flat as pancakes.

A single glance at the useless rubber showed him the foolishness of attempting flight in the car. An easy getaway from a cowardly kill had turned into a trap.

Benton realized how desperate the trap was, when he heard the swiftly approaching sound of a policeman's heavy brogans. The shot in the house had been heard. A cop on a nearby post was racing to investigate.

For Benton, it was a double peril. Even without the sound of the shot, the sight of that car would have warned any cop of trouble. The policeman who had been slugged earlier in Benton's home had probably already recovered consciousness.

He had seen the car before he entered Benton's home. One glance at the make of this car and its license plates would inform the approaching bluecoat that Richard Benton was again at bay!

Benton didn't hesitate. He raced across the sidewalk, to the stone wall of Stark's estate. A frenzied leap brought his clutching fingers to the top of the coping. He drew up his squirming body. In an instant, he wriggled over the top and dropped to the darkness of the enclosed grounds.

His fears were justified. The cop halted the moment he saw the parked car with the flat rear tires.

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