Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 310 by Maxwel l Grant

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

CHAPTER VIII

SILENTLY as a thought, The Shadow made his way to a window where a light had flashed on. He looked into this window. Then he was sorry.

For, in the center of the room, a man who might have been poured from the same mold as the four he had just left, was standing running a belt through his

fingers. A woman lay on the floor sobbing. It was not the violence that upset The Shadow, for that he had seen more than his share of, it was not even the pain that crawled across the woman's face like a live thing. It was the expression on the man's face as he felt the leather of the belt. He ran his

fingers over it lovingly. When his fingers touched the belt buckle, the expression was intensified.

It was so unclean that The Shadow looked away for a moment. When he looked

back the belt was flailing down through the air. The woman just lay there and expected it. That was part of the horror too. She made no move to run away.

She

didn't even cover her face with her hands.

While the door slammed open and the man and woman stayed frozen in their places by the unexpectedness of the intrusion; The Shadow thought, maybe those old Americans had something. Maybe there is a function for the Fool Killer.

To the startled occupants of the room, The Shadow might well have been a man from Mars. His long strong arm flicked out and snatched the belt from the man's hand. This restored him a trifle. His reflexes automatically responded.

As the belt slipped from his grasp he swung a punch at the darkness that was The Shadow's face. The punch missed and The Shadow was grateful for the physical release he felt for his emotions as his fist crashed into the man's lean face.

The man wiped his hand across his bruised mouth and said, "I'm gonna kill you for that. Nobody lays a hand on a Coffin and gits away with it."

His hand was behind his back. The Shadow cuffed him with the side of his hand and looked down at the woman. She said nothing.

When the man's hand came back into view it was made longer by a clasp knife. He pressed a button on the side of it and four inches of razor-like steel whipped out.

He came at The Shadow. The knife swung around in a circle but The Shadow's

fist went in a straight line.

The Shadow was grateful for the pain as his knuckles crunched on the man's

chin. The man teetered. His hand relaxed and the knife fell to the floor near the woman.

He fell close to the knife.

The Shadow could do nothing more. What was there to do? He left as he had come with a bitter brackish taste in the back of his throat. As he passed the window he glanced in.

The woman had finally moved. She was near the knife. Her expression was like that of a child at Christmas. She reached out and touched it.

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