Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 313 by Maxwel l Grant

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

CHAPTER VII

CRANSTON looked around and then returned his gaze to her face. "What's upset you so?"

She sighed, took a last look all around and said, "Well, it's all fouled up now. But I had a lead to whomever is behind this nightmare. Just bad luck ruined it. I'm sure once they saw you they vanished."

Pretending ignorance, Cranston said, "They?"

She told him of a mysterious phone call she had received. She had thought that she was being smart in pretending to understand the salutation, so she had made arrangements to meet the man with the muffled voice, but en route, she had called Scotland Yard. With the Yard man along, she was sure she'd be able to nab whoever had called.

Right then, before Cranston could say anything, a heavy hand descended on his shoulder. "You are under arrest."

"Oh no," Bobby said irritably. "This isn't one of the gang." She explained Cranston's position.

The detective looked slightly disbelieving. He said, "Seems like a pretty strange coincidence that... Mr...

ah, Cranston, was it? should come along just at the right time. London is rather a large place."

"Oh this is too absurd. Mr. Cranston flew over from New York just to help us. He can't be involved.

Besides I have an appointment!"

The three of them walked down the street. The detective still looked as though he was ready to clap the cuffs on Cranston.

Back at Yorke's apartment, Jackie, returned from his walk around the block, was sitting looking out the

window rather emptily. Yorke was bustling around the room.

"What's up?" Jackie asked lazily.

"Well, we must not forget that I am your barrister and despite all the things that have been going on there are some of your affairs that need your attention."

"More papers to sign?" The young Earl was bored.

Nodding, Yorke spread some documents out in front of him. "This is the income tax on your estate in Cholmondely." Of course, he pronounced it 'Chumley.'

"Let me glance over it."

Jackie read the fine print carefully, signed when he saw the amount of his income that was going out in taxes and then fumbled for his pen.

"Here, try mine. It's a new Yankee invention. A pen that writes for five years without filling and with which you can write under water."

The Earl looked stunned. "What in the name of the seven demons would anyone but a deep sea diver want to write under water for?"

Yorke laughed, "I'm sure I don't know. But that's the way they are advertising it."

"Writes easily, doesn't it?" Jackie asked, scrawling his almost indecipherable signature.

"Yes, I've grown quite attached to it. You see it's a ball point and the ball rotates, picking up, by capillary attraction some ink from a lozenge of solid ink that is under the ball."

"Ingenious, like most Yank contrivances. I wonder sometimes whether all of the States will one day be inundated by their production of gimmicks and all the people will sink under the weight of all the labor-saving inventions they have."

Yorke laughed. "Might happen at that." He took the signed papers and went over to his desk and slipped them into an envelope.

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