“That is good,” said Marmosa solemnly. “The men I have here — they all drink. It costs me money, but it is not the money that I mind.
“When they drink, they cannot watch. They are no longer wise. You are the man I want here. Barutti did well to get you.”
He conducted Harry back to the office, and there, by the little desk, the proprietor of the gambling den explained the purpose for which he had required a new man.
“I have many people here in Chicago,” he said, “but if they know nothing, they are no good; if they know too much, they are no good. I must keep in right with the big shots; but my business is my own.
“I must have a man who minds no business except mine; you understand, eh? He must learn to know those who come in, and who go out. He must watch this, and he must watch that; but he must not deal with any except me. You understand, eh?”
“Exactly,” replied Harry.
“More than that,” said Marmosa thoughtfully, “this man must seem as a diner in the restaurant, or as a player in the gambling room.
“I do not need a man with a gun. They are easy to get — too easy to get. I have them, but they do not look well.
“I want a man who will act as a gentleman, who will watch, and who will not drink. He must be ready to give orders to the others. You are the man I need.”
“I will be,” interposed Harry, “after I have seen your place in operation. I must, of course, first know something about it.”
“Ah!” interrupted Marmosa. “You will learn quickly. Very, very quickly. Money? I shall give you plenty.
“Barutti has told me all about you, over the phone. He says that you will work whenever I may need you; that you do not talk loud; and that you do not have the big, swelled head. All that is good. Very, very good.”
The huge man stared from the window, and Harry followed his gaze. Below them was the bustle and confusion of a Chicago street. The whole situation seemed unreal to Harry Vincent.
Here, in this quiet cubby-hole of an office, one would never suspect that the entrance to a de luxe gambling den lay only a few feet away.
“I have a man who will help you,” explained Marmosa. “His name is Joe le Blanc. He is a good man, but not the one I need. He is going away soon, to open a place of his own — a road house outside of the city.
“He is in right; he has fixed it with the big shots. I am giving him the money to start the place. But he will stay here a while until you understand what you are to do.”
Marmosa looked at his watch. Then he opened a drawer in the desk, and drew out a stack of letters. He extended his hand to Harry.
“Go away, now,” said the big man, “and come back here at seven o’clock tonight. If you need money at any time, tell me. I am trusting you because I know Barutti.
“Stay at a hotel near here, so you will not have far to go.”
HARRY VINCENT left the office and walked down the gently sloping stairs. The entire restaurant seemed different to him now.
Now he realized that the elaborate downstairs establishment was nothing more than a blind for the den upstairs. Perhaps Frank Marmosa was conducting a profitable restaurant; but that was not the business upon which he relied.
Harry registered at the Goliath Hotel, a single block from the restaurant.
Within an hour after his arrival in Chicago, Harry Vincent had stepped within the borderland of gangdom. He had obtained a position which would enable him to watch and to gain information without incurring the grave risks that threatened the average gangster. Yet he realized that even his position with Marmosa held danger in store, and he welcomed that danger.
For he knew that while he might appear to be working for Frank Marmosa, the gambling king, he would actually be working for another. He owed his real allegiance to that strange, mysterious person who was the talk of all New York — the man they called The Shadow.
One dominating thought gripped Harry’s mind. He was sure that he had divined the purpose of the work that lay ahead.
The Shadow had transferred activities from New York to Chicago, with one definite motive — to track all those who had been responsible for the death of Claude Fellows!
Harry had heard of Chicago gangsters. Now he was to encounter them. They were different from the mobsters of New York.
They worked in compact gangs, Harry knew, and their foothold was greater, so far as the police was concerned.
If the newspapers spoke truly, gangsters ruled Chicago as kings.
All his old adventures with The Shadow recurred to Harry’s mind, as he stood by the window, looking out over the vast city of Chicago, to the blue waterfalls of Lake Michigan.
He had done much to help The Shadow, and still that mysterious man amazed and bewildered him.
In and out of New York, The Shadow had struck the plots and counterplots of crafty criminals until his name had become a terror to those who fought against the law. Yet The Shadow had never been revealed. His personality was still a mystery.
Some believed him to be a detective; others claimed that he was a master mind that knew no law. Whichever might be true, it was certain that The Shadow had brought many crooks to justice, and that he was a criminologist of tremendous ability.
Yet here, in Chicago, Harry Vincent felt qualms. This was to be a new game.
It would not be a battle of wits for The Shadow, although wits would play their part. It would be a fight against tremendous odds; against groups of desperate men who ruled their realm with automatics, bombs, and machine guns.
Even The Shadow, with all his amazing power, was human. When the gangsters of Chicago were thwarted, they spoke with bullets.
Did The Shadow know the dangers that lay here? Did he realize the strength of the powerful organizations that defied the police, and openly ridiculed the law? Did he know the risk he would take if he came to Chicago?
For a few moments these questions passed in rapid succession through Harry’s mind, and for the first time since his association with The Shadow, he felt the fear of impending disaster. Then he recalled the times when the amazing superman had met and conquered those who blocked his path.
Still standing by the window of his room, Harry Vincent smiled grimly, and his lips spoke these words:
“The Shadow knows!”
CHAPTER IV
GANGSTERS MEET
MARMOSA’S CAFE was a quiet place at seven o’clock in the evening. The restaurant was well filled with diners; waiters trod noiselessly across the carpeted floor; and the orchestra in the corner played soft music that did not disturb the pleasing atmosphere of the luxurious dining palace.
Harry Vincent found Frank Marmosa in the office when he arrived. The big man greeted him pleasantly, and suggested that he have dinner on the balcony, so that he could watch those who entered.
Harry took this as an indication that Marmosa wanted to test his ability as an observer, so he took the table which the proprietor pointed out, and ordered a sumptuous meal.
While he ate, Harry watched below.
He felt a certain admiration for Frank Marmosa, even though the man was engaged in an illegal enterprise. For Marmosa’s Cafe was certainly one of the most elegant restaurants that Harry had ever patronized, and the food was in keeping with the surroundings.
It was evidently Marmosa’s purpose to attract a high-class clientele, for the diners were fashionable persons, many of whom appeared to be of the elite.
There were comparatively few persons on the balcony, and Harry noticed that no one approached the hidden spot behind the corner pillar.
It was after eight o’clock before Harry had completed his carefully chosen meal, and by that time, the crowd below had thinned out considerably. Marmosa had not returned, so Harry lighted a cigar, and puffed away in enjoyment, still watching from the balcony.