Death Clew

CHAPTER XV. CARDONA TAKES A TIP

AT nine o’clock the next morning, a chubby-faced man was staring from the window of an office high above Broadway. He seemed to have no interest other than his view of the Manhattan skyline.

This was Rutledge Mann, a prosperous investment broker who had his suite of offices in the towering Badger Building. Leisurely in manner, Mann seemed to have no concern other than the fluctuations of the stock market.

Mann’s business, however, was twofold. His brokerage activities, though they brought him comfortable profit, were not his most important job. This office was actually a blind. Rutledge Mann was an agent of The Shadow.

Useful in research, Mann also served as a contact agent between The Shadow and his active operatives.

The investment broker delivered important written instructions; he also received elaborate reports which he delivered to The Shadow.

Rutledge Mann turned as he heard a rap at the door. It was the stenographer, coming to announce a visitor.

“Mr. Burke is here,” stated the girl.

“Show him in,” ordered Mann.

When Clyde Burke had arrived, Mann reached into a desk drawer and produced a sealed envelope.

This was the inner packet that had come from The Shadow. Clyde Burke’s name had faded from the face of the envelope after Mann had read it.

Clyde received the envelope. He tore it open. Out came a folded sheet of paper; with it, two small slips.

Clyde noted the slips first. Then, as their writing faded, he unfolded the paper and perused its coded lines.

Clyde began to nod as he finished reading. His lips formed a slight smile. Rutledge Mann watched the slips go in the wastebasket. The folded paper followed. Its coded message had also disappeared.

“All right,” announced Clyde. “I’ll be back later in the morning.”

LEAVING the Badger Building, Clyde called a taxi. The Shadow’s agent ordered the driver to take him to detective headquarters. Arriving at his destination, Clyde went directly to Joe Cardona’s office.

“Hello, Burke,” growled the detective, as he looked up from a batch of papers. “Nothing new on the Engliss case. I’ll let you know when any word comes in.

Clyde smiled as he saw Cardona cover a photograph with a paper. The Shadow’s agent knew that a heavy search was due for an unknown killer. It was evident that Cardona did not want the newspapers to know too much at present.

“I’m not looking for a story, Joe,” announced Clyde. “That is, I’m not asking you to give me one. I’ve got an idea — a long shot — and I’ll slip it to you if you’re willing to go through with it.”

“On these murders?”

“Yes.”

“Spill it.”

“Wait a minute.” Clyde was working for effect. “You may think I’m crazy, Joe. But I’m not. I’ve got a real bet for you; it may mean a lot of trouble; but I’ve got a real hunch that it may bring a big result.”

“I like hunches,” nodded Cardona. “Go ahead, Burke. I’ll be frank with you — we’re ready to take any lead that looks good.”

“All right, Joe.” Clyde considered. “First of all, there’s something funny about these two murders. The same killer got Jerome Neville and Hiram Engliss. That’s bad enough; but why should he want to murder either one of them?”

“Do you know why?”

“No. But the murderer worked mighty quick. It’s a sure bet, Joe, that he isn’t finished. Unless you get started, there’ll be another killing tonight — and maybe one on the next night—”

“Cut it, Burke.” Cardona was impatient. “You’re giving me the jitters. Spring your idea.”

“It strikes me,” declared Clyde, as he seated himself in front of the detective’s desk, “that there must be some connection between Jerome Neville and Hiram Engliss. But all the facts — their work, their ages, their locations — point against it. We just know this — the same guy bumped both of them.”

“Is that all you’ve got to tell me?”

“No. I’ve figured that the connection must be there. No matter how slight it seems, you ought to follow any point that the two men had in common. I’ll go further than that — you ought to follow half a point, if you can get even that much—”

“And what is it?” interrupted Cardona.

“A number,” declared Burke, in a solemn tone. “The number thirteen.”

INSTANTLY, The Shadow’s agent saw that he had scored an unexpected hit. Clyde had come here expecting to sell Cardona an idea that the detective might reject. Instead, he realized that he had struck home. Cardona’s hands were gripping the edge of the desk. The ace was staring eagerly.

“What about it?” came Cardona’s question. “What about the number thirteen?”

“Jerome Neville,” remarked Clyde, “had the telephone number Quadrangle 2-4138. Hiram Engliss had the number Midtown 9-1362. Write them down, Joe. You’ll see that each one contains the number thirteen, as big as life.”

“That’s right.” Cardona was scrawling the numbers on a sheet of paper. “Still, I don’t get your idea, Burke. This thirteen business is important, because” — he paused abruptly — “well, because I’m superstitious, I guess. But what can I do about it?”

“I’ll tell you,” stated Clyde. “It’s a long shot and it may seem a crazy one; but if you follow it, you might get somewhere. There are about twelve hundred pages in the Manhattan telephone book. Why not put a dozen girls to work, each with a hundred pages. Better still, two dozen girls, with fifty pages each.

“Let them run down the columns. It’s quick work spotting every number that has thirteen in it. With a bunch of typists on the job, you can list the names that the girls get. When you’re through, you can eliminate a lot of names — businesses and the like — and the list you have will contain the names of whatever men that killer is still out to get.”

Cardona was drawing circles on his sheet of paper. He put a ring around each number 13; then began to tap on the desk with his pencil. He eyed Clyde Burke for a moment; then made a definite effort to curb the enthusiasm that he had shown.

“I’ll try this out, Burke,” he said. “I’ll work it through the telephone company. What you say may be true — but there’ll be a lot of names in that list when—”

“What of it?” questioned Clyde. “It’s not going to interfere with whatever else you’re doing. Tell the phone company what you want — but make sure you have the list before tonight. If my hunch is right, Joe, there may be other lives at stake—”

“All right, Burke,” interrupted Cardona, with a nod. He was trying to indicate that the reporter had convinced him. “I’ll attend to that matter. By the way, where do you come in on this? You’re looking for a story — is that the idea?”

“You bet I am,” returned Clyde. “Say — if this hunch brings results, I’ll be sitting pretty with the Classic office. You’re sure you’re going through with it, aren’t you, Joe?”

“Leave it with me, Burke.”

“If you’re not sure you’ll have that list by tonight,” warned Clyde, “I’ll take it up with the Classic. They’ll make up that list pronto, just to see if the next murder has a thirteen in it. But I figured the idea belonged to you.”

“Don’t tell the newspaper office!” exclaimed Cardona. “What do you want to do — spoil the story for yourself? I’ll take care of this right away, Burke. Positively. Call me up in an hour; I’ll tell you when the lists will be here.”

CLYDE BURKE smiled as he left headquarters. He had followed instructions from The Shadow. The trump card in The Shadow’s game had been Clyde’s statement that he would get the Classic to work on the list. That threat had been unneeded. Clyde had delivered it solely for good measure.

Back in his office, Joe Cardona was muttering to himself. In his left hand lay the fragment of paper that he had found at Crane’s. The detective was staring at the ragged clew.

“Men thirteen,” mumbled Cardona. “Maybe it means men with thirteen in their phone numbers. Maybe—”

The detective lifted the telephone and put in an official call. True to his statement, Cardona intended to arrange the list that Clyde Burke had suggested.

In a corner of the Classic office, Clyde Burke was preparing a report for Rutledge Mann. The reporter was including every detail — particularly the point of Joe Cardona’s sudden response when he had heard mention of the number 13.

This report was going to The Shadow. Through Clyde Burke, the master sleuth had gained the end he sought. The list that was being compiled for Joe Cardona was actually under preparation for The Shadow!