“Where can I get in touch with him?”
As a reply to Clyde’s question, the movie man consulted an address hook. He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Clyde heard his end of the conversation.
“Hello…” The assistant manager seemed annoyed by a bad connection. “Yes, I’m calling the Hotel Moselle. I want Room 810… Hello, hello… That you, Mr. Koplin?… This is Enterprise… No, we haven’t got another job for you; I want to ask you about an old one. That Waylock business.
“About the files, names of the contestants… Got them have you?… Some of them? Good! There’s a reporter here from the Classic who wants to look at them… All right. I’ll ask him…” The speaker turned to Clyde and said:
“Koplin only has a few names that were in the list. He wants to know if you’re looking for anybody special. He has the complete data on some of the cases.”
“Ask him about a man named Donald Manthell,” suggested Clyde.
The Enterprise man put the query over the telephone. He received a reply from the other end, then delivered a few affirmative grunts and hung up.
“Koplin says that it you get over there right away you can see him,” informed the assistant manager. “He says he remembers a name something like Manthell; but he hasn’t time to look it up right now. He’s busy with a client. He’ll meet you on the Roof Cafe in twenty minutes. Said to ask for Prexy Storlick, the manager there.”
UNDER ordinary circumstances Clyde, after departing from Enterprise Exhibitors, would have called Burbank.
This afternoon there were definite reasons why he did not do so. Clyde was off duty; he had no suspicion of Bart Koplin; twenty minutes was scarcely ample to reach the Hotel Moselle; and finally, Clyde was due aboard his ship at eight o’clock, so be had no time to waste. He decided that he would do best by getting all the information possible before making his report.
When he reached the Roof Cafe of the Hotel Moselle, Clyde asked for Prexy Storlick. He stated that he had business with Bart Koplin. Prexy ushered him to the table beside the potted cedar. A few minutes later Bart Koplin arrived. The private dick looked surprised when he recognized Clyde. The reporter grinned as he shook hands.
Clyde Burke came directly to his point. He stated that the Classic wanted a special story on the adventures of Hollywood movie actors; that statistics showed that many of them were dupes for schemes that they thought would gain them stardom.
Specifically, Clyde added, he had heard of a former movie actor, named Donald Manthell, who had entered Fergus Waylock’s contest. With this name as a starter, Clyde wanted to check up on any others.
Bart Koplin nodded wisely. He questioned Clyde regarding the proposed story and the reporter mentioned casually that he was doing it as a free-lance job of his own in hopes that the Classic would accept it.
Bart seemed anxious to help him. The private dick told Clyde to wait until he came back.
Leaving the table, Bart went inside and picked the little corridor that had the doorway to the staircase.
Hastening to Rook Hollister’s hideout, Bart found the big shot and told him about Clyde. Rook became instantly alert.
“You say this mug’s with the Classic?” questioned the big shot. “Say — that sheet goes in for red-hot stuff! Not a reporter on it that wouldn’t know my phiz if he ramped it. And this guy wants to know about Donald Manthell. All right, we’ll let him find out. Bring him up here.”
“Right away?” demanded Bart.
“Sure thing,” ordered Rook. “Hand him any stall to get him up here.”
“That’ll be easy,” assured Bart, as he turned to leave.
DOWN in the Roof Cafe, Clyde Burke was lighting a cigarette while he impatiently awaited the return of Bart Koplin. Seated at the table where the private dick had left him, Clyde was hoping that he would gain a follow-up to his clue on Donald Manthell.
Clyde was destined to attain more than that. He was already at the end of a quest. Within the next five minutes he was due to meet the man whom he had been seeking for The Shadow.
But the circumstances under which Clyde Burke would meet Rook Hollister could well bring disaster to The Shadow’s plans. For Rook Hollister, in turn, had been seeking agents of The Shadow; and one of them had blundered into the big shot’s toils.
And The Shadow was elsewhere, seeking his own crime clues.
CHAPTER XVII. THE SECOND VICTIM
OVER at the Hotel Framton, Harry Vincent was pacing about his room. Like Clyde Burke, this agent was annoyed by his inability to get results. Long periods of listening at the dictograph had brought nothing. At present, Buzz Dongarth was not in his room; and since it was after six o’clock, Harry decided to take time out for dinner.
As he stepped into the corridor, Harry heard the distant whine of a vacuum cleaner around the corner; at the same moment he chanced to glance in the direction of Buzz Dongarth’s door. He saw that the barrier was ajar.
Some servant had started to clean the room; then had gone somewhere else. Harry saw a brief opportunity. He had wondered if Buzz had made any new arrangements in the room since that first time Harry had entered to install the dictograph.
Pushing open the door, Harry entered. The room looked just the same. Through the window on the north side, Harry caught an intermittent glow. It was the light of the sign in front of the Hotel Moselle, blinking through the dusk.
Harry went to the window. He saw more lights. The open space above the Roof Cafe was agleam with strings of electrically illuminated Chinese lanterns. Harry paused to study the colorful scene.
He noted only a few persons on the roof; and he was about to turn away when he observed a tall man in evening clothes walking toward a table by the nearer parapet. This was Prexy Storlick; Bart Koplin had delegated the proprietor to invite Clyde Burke up to the penthouse.
By this plan Bart could lurk behind and come up afterward, giving Clyde no chance to retreat. It was a clever scheme that the private dick had thought out while on his way down from Rook Hollister’s hideout.
Harry Vincent, looking from Buzz Dongarth’s window, viewed the parapet of the Roof Cafe at close range. It was only twenty feet below, and scarcely more distant than the width of the narrow cross street.
Looking curiously at Prexy, Harry saw the man at the table which the proprietor was approaching.
By the light of the lanterns Harry recognized Clyde. The two agents had frequently worked together.
Harry knew that Clyde was going off duty today. He wondered what the reporter was doing at the Hotel Moselle.
As Clyde arose and walked away with Prexy, Harry turned quickly and moved from Buzz Dongarth’s room. He was just in time, for the servant was turning the corner of the corridor, bringing the vacuum cleaner. Harry fumbled at the knob of his own door; the cleaning man came up and asked a question:
“Going out, sir?”
Harry nodded.
“I’ll clean your room, then,” said the man, producing a key.
HARRY walked toward the elevators. He had intended to go back in his room and make a call to Burbank but the arrival of the cleaning man had prevented it. Harry was not anxious to make a call from the lobby, for the telephone booths were poorly situated and thin-walled.
He decided, when he reached the lobby, to go over to the Hotel Moselle. When he reached the lobby of the adjoining hostelry he found only four booths, all of which were occupied. It was that fact that made Harry decide to go up to the Root Cafe. He saw a chance of meeting Clyde Burke there.
All the while, Harry suspected nothing. It was not until he had reached the Roof Cafe that a sudden thought struck him. As he seated himself at a table near the one that Clyde had occupied, Harry glanced toward the bulky wall of the Hotel Framton. Trying to locate the exact position of Buzz Dongarth’s room, he realized more than before the closeness of the two hotels.