The Man from Scotland Yard

CHAPTER XIII. CADY REPORTS

HALF an hour had passed since The Shadow’s emergence from the strong room. Vic Marquette and Jarvis Knight had made their departure. Senator Releston and Caleb Wesdren were alone in the latter’s study.

The two had been conferring on matters concerning manufacture. All the while, eyes had been watching them — eyes that peered through the crack of the side door. The Shadow had remained, on the chance that important matters might be mentioned.

A telephone bell rang: Wesdren answered it and held a brief conversation. Concluding his talk, he turned to Releston.

“The representatives of the subsidiary companies are at the Hotel Sorbonne,” Wesdren told Releston.

“The meeting will follow the luncheon. We should be leaving shortly. I suppose you are coming with me, senator?”

Releston considered then nodded. Wesdren started to rise from his desk; Releston stopped him.

“One point, Wesdren,” mentioned the senator. “How does this man Knight impress you?”

“That is hard to say,” replied Wesdren. “Frankly, though, I found it difficult to picture him as Inspector Eric Delka, of Scotland Yard.”

“That much is unquestioned.” declared Releston, with a smile. “He has his credentials. There is no doubt as to his identity. His pose as Jarvis Knight is good judgment. But outside of that, he seems to know very little.”

“Concerning Jed Barthue?”

“Yes. Delka came here to put us on the trail of an international spy. I questioned him yesterday concerning Barthue and he said that he had never seen the man in England.”

“I thought that Scotland Yard had trailed Barthue.”

“They found traces of him; that was all. Delka confesses that he came over here on a blind quest.”

“That is odd, senator. Well, after all, he may prove useful, in case Barthue is uncovered. But we have taken so many precautions that trouble seems impossible. Delka certainly was impressed by my strong room.”

“He was impressed yesterday, Wesdren, when I informed him that your four servants were actually secret service men, placed here to keep watch.”

Wesdren chuckled.

“They have not been overburdened by duty,” he remarked. “Outside of myself and Jollister, no one has been about the house. That reminds me; I must summon Jollister and learn about this vacation of his.”

Wesdren pressed the desk buzzer. In the hallway, The Shadow moved from the door and glided to a gloomy alcove. A few moments later, a door opened across the hall and Jollister stalked forth from a room which appeared to be his own temporary office. At the same time, a passing servant passed in the front hall and watched casually while Jollister entered Wesdren’s office.

The door closed. The servant went on his way. The Shadow moved forward and opened the door imperceptibly. He was in time to hear the brief conversation that followed.

“This vacation, Jollister,” questioned Wesdren. “Do you actually intend to take it?”

“I told you I did, sir,” returned Jollister. “I intend to leave tonight, on the ten o’clock train.”

“You are going west?”

“Yes, Mr. Wesdren. Possibly to Cleveland; maybe to Chicago. I have business prospects in both cities.”

“When will you return to Washington?”

“I do not know. I may come back to New York. However, I shall see you later today, Mr. Wesdren. I am going to my apartment shortly; but I shall return after dinner, to pack up some drawings.”

Wesdren was eyeing Jollister sharply. The vault expert met his gaze with an almost surly challenge; then rumbled words that sounded like “goodbye” and stalked toward the door.

The Shadow had edged away, anticipating Jollister’s approach. He waited until the vault expert had passed; he saw Jollister go to the little room and close the door behind him. Again The Shadow approached the larger office.

Wesdren and Releston were leaving by the front way, through the reception room. The Shadow noted a frown on Releston’s face. He caught the final words that the senator spoke to Wesdren.

“I was watching Jollister,” confided the senator. “Did you notice the way he glared? His eyes showed suspicion but he changed his expression quickly when he realized that I had observed it.”

“Jollister is eccentric,” replied Wesdren. “Almost childish at times. Somehow, every mention of his vacation has become a sore point with him. He resents any statement that concerns his private affairs.”

“He was here when you came back from New York?”

“No. He did not appear until yesterday morning. But I did not annoy him with questions.”

Wesdren and Releston departed. The Shadow moved back to the alcove and lingered there. Pacing servants passed at times; knowing that they were secret service men, The Shadow kept out of view.

Half an hour elapsed. The door of Jollister’s room opened; the long-limbed man peered suspiciously into the hall. He spied one of the supposed servants as the man turned casually about. Jollister’s expression changed. He stepped from the room, carrying hat and coat.

“I shall return later, Egbert,” he rumbled to the servant. “I have informed Mr. Wesdren of that fact.”

Jollister strode to the front door and went from the house. The watchmen kept an eye on the door; then turned and went away. A short while later, The Shadow issued from the alcove. Obscure in the gloomy hallway, he moved unseen to the front door.

There, in a little vestibule, he removed hat and cloak. Peering about, he saw none of the secret service men. He stepped out to the street, closing the door behind him. In the deliberate manner of Lamont Cranston, he walked away, his features wearing the millionaire’s guise. Cloak over arm appeared as a light overcoat; the slouch hat was beneath it.

The shadow’s objective was the Skyview Plaza. He arrived there, went to his room and left cloak and hat. He strolled up to the sixth floor, unlocked the door of the room next to Knight’s and entered. Then he slowly opened the connecting door to the Britisher’s suite.

The Shadow did not expect to find Knight, for he had seen the key of Suite 604 in its pigeonhole behind the lobby desk. As The Shadow had anticipated, the Britisher was absent.

Passing through the bedroom, The Shadow reached the living room and made a brief inspection. He happened to note the wastebasket; he saw the crumpled wads of paper that Knight had tossed there.

Opening these, The Shadow noted the numbered lines, and copied them. He replaced the wads in the basket; then swung quickly into the bedroom as someone unlocked the door from the corridor.

It was the maid, coming to arrange the rooms. Her first act was to take out the wastebasket. The Shadow closed the connecting door beyond the bedroom. He strolled out to the corridor, arriving there just after the woman had gone back into Knight’s suite.

Back in his own room, The Shadow made a study of the incomplete messages. He saw that the first part of the longer one was a repetition of the shorter. The first the read:

The Shadow inscribed letters on a piece of paper. They were as follows:

The translation continued no further.

The letter Q brought it to an abrupt ending The Shadow checked other numbers along the time, making little horizontal brackets that joined them in pairs.

Then he folded the two copies and placed them in the drawer with the papers that he had translated on the preceding night. He laughed softly as he took a hat and cane from a closet; then, with the leisurely manner of Cranston, he went from the room.

The Shadow paused when he reached the lobby. Several bell boys were on duty; but Cady was not among them. Knight’s key was still in its box. Swinging his cane, The Shadow strolled out to the street.

THERE was a good reason for Cady’s absence. The rat-faced crook who passed as hell hop was, at present, far from the Skyview Plaza. Attired in street clothes, Cady was at that minute entering the lobby of a cheap hotel on the other side of Washington.

There was no elevator in the hotel. Cady walked up a loosely carpeted stairway and found a door that bore the number 41. He rapped cautiously; the door opened. Cady stepped in, to face Chink Huron.

“Well?” The heavy-browed racketeer rasped his question. “Did Jed come back?”

“Yeah,” returned Cady. “About an hour after he went out. But I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”

“Why not?”

“Marquette was with him. The guy’s like a leech. I was watching for Jed in the hall. When he went in the room, I snooped outside.”

“That was dumb. I told you to be careful.”

“Maybe it was, Clink, but it worked out good. I’ve been figuring that Marquette’s getting leery of Jed, see? The way he’s holding close to him, Jed don’t have no chance. But I guess it’s O.K., after what I heard.”

“What was that?”

“Marquette was talking like a pal. If he’d been leery, he wouldn’t have. He was talking about the place they’d been. A house where a guy named Caleb Wesdren lives. That’s where the strong room is, and there’s four mugs supposed to be flunkies. But they ain’t. They’re Feds.”

“Cut it,” snapped Clink. “I’m wise to that lay. What I want to know is what happened afterward. Did they go out?”

“Yeah! Marquette and Jed together. I ducked when I heard them coming to the door. I stuck around, thinking maybe Jed would be back. He didn’t come, so I did what you told me over the telephone.”

“You found that half-finished message that Jed started to write?”

“Yeah. I used a pass-key to get in. One I swiped from the bell captain. Here’s the copy, Clink. I chucked the one Jed wrote back into the basket, so Jed wouldn’t be worried if he came back alone and found it missing.”

Clink jerked open a folded paper that Cady handed him. The racketeer’s brow lowered; his lips straightened and he nodded as he studied the numbered lines.

“Any good, Clink?” queried Cady. “Jed had got pretty well along with it when Marquette blew in this morning. I figured there might be enough to make some sense.”

“It tells me enough,” returned Clink. “Jed didn’t need to write any more. This is all the big shot wanted to know.”

“Then Jed should have slipped it along as it was.”

“He hadn’t finished, Cady. Marquette was coming up. Jed had to think quick. Don’t bother your noodle about it. This is a break all around.”

“How’s that?”

“It means you won’t have to go back on the bell-hop beat. We won’t need to get in touch with Jed for a while. Sit down over there, while I call the big boy.”

CADY sat down. Clink went to the telephone and dialed a number. There was no answer. He hung up abruptly and began to pace the room. He consulted his watch as he walked back and forth.

Twenty minutes passed while Clink made no comment. All the while, Cady watched the racketeer with blinking eyes, but he knew enough of Clink’s ways to refrain from conversation.

At the end of the interval, Clink turned to pick up the telephone. It rang just as he was about to lift the receiver. Cady knew instantly that the coincidental call must be from the big shot.

“Hello…” Clink’s tone was eager. “Say, Cady got that answer… Yeah, the part of it that Jed had written. You guessed what was in it, all right… Yeah…

“Well, that wises us up… No, I haven’t told Cady anything yet… Except that he don’t have to go back to the hotel… Sure thing. I thought you’d want to use Cady… Yeah. I’ll send him along with another guy…

“Yeah, I think two’s all you’ll need… They’ll leave the car outside… It’s a swift boat, alright… With a big trunk for the bags…

“You won’t have to worry about the way I pull the big job. It’s going to be a set-up, the way you’ve framed it… Sure. The other cars are all ready…

“What’s that?.. Yeah. I’ll see him myself, down at the Skyview Plaza… Tomorrow night’s soon enough. Marquette won’t stick with him forever… I won’t forget Cady’s button… All right, chief…”

Clink hung up and turned to Cady. The racketeer’s deep-lined face wore a satisfied grin. Clink snapped his fingers.

“Slip me that coin button, Cady,” he ordered. “I’ll need it tomorrow.”

“You’re going to see Jed yourself?” queried Cady.

“Sure,” replied Clink. “I’ve got to introduce myself, don’t I? He won’t believe I’m who I say I am, unless I have that coin.”

Cady produced the mounted rupee from his pocket and passed it to Click. Still noting the racketeer’s pleased grin, Cady ventured a question:

“You’re pulling the job tonight, Clink? Without slipping the news to Jed?”

“He don’t need to know until after. You’ve got enough sense to know that.”

“Sure. I know his end is to beat it to Europe with the swag. But what gets me is how you’re going to snatch it in the first place.”

“That’s all set, Cady. But the big shot needs you for something else. You and Cooler Caplan. He’s the boy that can drive that big bus of mine plenty fast.”

“I get you, Clink. Cooler and me — we’re to help the big shot with his get-away.”

Clink eyed Cady steady and noted an eager grin on the underlings ratlike face. The idea of meeting the big shot evidently pleased Cady. Clink nodded; he clamped an approving hand upon the seated crook’s shoulder.

“I’ll spill you the whole story later, Cady,” proposed Clink. “Beat it out and eat; then come back. Cooler will be here then. I’ll let you both in on the lay.”

“Keep away from the Skyview Plaza. Let them think you’ve quit, like you did at the Goliath. You’ve got an important job tonight. You’ll realize that when I spill the whole story.”

Cady nodded as Clink conducted him to the door. He knew Clink’s penchant for holding back important information until the zero hour. Cady had worked for the smooth racketeer before. With Clink, when you guessed his plans, it was wise not to say too much — so Cady knew from past experience.

CLINK HURON closed the door when Cady had gone. Taking the chair that Cady had occupied, the racketeer lighted a cigar and grinned as he puffed away.

Slow-moving events had reached the natural culmination that had been expected. Crime was ready to strike tonight. But with culmination had arrived new twists: cross-currents that demanded clever strategy.

Even yet, plans might need last-minute changes. That was one reason why Clink had dismissed Cady until later. But as Clink viewed the coming perspective, he could see success and nothing else.

Cady and “Cooler” would start out first. Clink would wait here until the big shot’s final call. Then, with ready henchmen, he would follow opportunity.

Puffing his cigar, Clink summed all possibilities and grinned in satisfaction. But in his summary, the confident racketeer gave no heed to a factor that was due to enter in the game.

That factor was The Shadow. As yet, Clink Huron had failed to suspect the presence of that unknown foe to crime.