The Cobra

Начало книги

FOGGY darkness swirled beneath the superstructure of the East Side elevated. Dim lights, glowing through the murk, showed the dingy fronts of dilapidated buildings. Shifty, skulking figures shambled along the street. A bluecoat, twirling his club, watched them idly from the corner; then resumed his beat.

This was a bad spot on the fringe of the underworld. The officers who patrolled this section of Manhattan were chosen members of the force. Always on the lookout for the paths of crooks, they kept a wary check of sullen faces and sly, stoop-shouldered prowlers.

Less than one minute after the patrolman had continued on his beat, a man stepped forward from the cover of the elevated steps. Well-dressed, but inconspicuous in his dark suit, he was of better appearance than the usual denizens of this district. Like the bluecoat, he watched with wary eye.

A taxicab rolled slowly by. The man by the steps noted it with a sidelong glance. He saw a gray-haired man of middle age peering keenly from the window, as though engaged in study of the district. The cab rolled on. The man by the steps lighted a cigarette.

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