Grunts of agreement came from listeners. This crowd knew something about Caparani’s racket. The man’s persuasive argument had done the rest. Cold-bloodedly, Louie had first recommended death for Rook Hollister. Still as cold as before, he was advocating a respite. His whole attitude was one of business.
“Sounds good, Louie,” decided Blitz. Eyes were fixed on him as he spoke. “I’m for holding off, the way you’ve put it. We’ve got to have a guy at the head of the works. Rook’s as good as anybody. I’ve got nothing against him, so long as he delivers.
“What’s more, we can count on Ping here.” Blitz turned to Gradley. “If things gum up tonight, Ping, we won’t be blaming you. We’ll take it out on Rook. All right, that’s settled.” Blitz arose. The others followed suit. The meeting had ended in short order. The plotters had completed their plans. Hawkeye saw Lingo stroll over and tap at the paneled door. A signal to bring Koy Dow.
While the group was waiting, Blitz beckoned to Lingo.
“I’ll tip you off, Lingo,” informed Blitz, “when we’re ready to pull in here again. Then you can come down and fix it with the chink. This is a swell spot. We’ll keep it.” Lingo nodded.
Louie Caparani entered the conversation. Hawkeye heard him speak to Lingo. Louie wanted to know if Lingo spoke Greek, adding that he thought certain restaurant proprietors would listen to offers of “protection,” if persuaded in their native tongue.
Lingo nodded again; this time a broad grin appeared between his flattened nose and his projecting chin.
Lingo could talk Greek; he could speak Italian also, as he proceeded to demonstrate, by using that language in a voluble reply to Louie.
But Hawkeye had no desire to linger, listening to a new conversation in a language that he did not understand. The panel had risen; Koy Dow was standing beyond it, beckoning to the exit. Only Blitz, Louie and Lingo were remaining. The others were on their way out; with them was Trip Burley.
HAWKEYE had not forgotten his second mission. Quickly, The Shadow’s agent slid back from his lookout post. He moved down the spiral stairway, used the passage to the next building and reached the door at the head of the stairs. It opened at his touch; the tricky knob was not latched on the inside.
Hawkeye gained the street. Huddled in the shelter of his doorway, he watched figures coming from the Silver Dragon. He recognized Ping Gradley leaving the shop. The mobleader was heading forth to prepare for tonight’s job at the Casino Rouge.
Then came two others; following them was Trip Burley. They separated as soon as they reached the street. As luck had it, Trip took a course that led him into the darkened area in front of Hawkeye’s doorway.
Hawkeye gave Trip a thirty-yard start. Then the little trailer ventured forth. With sharp eyes peering through the drizzle, Hawkeye took up the trail. Five minutes later, he was following Trip up the steps of an elevated station.
He saw Trip leave the train at Forty-second Street. Hawkeye stepped off and resumed his trail. Trip was continuing afoot, threading his way through West Side streets and avenues, on a course that would have baffled an ordinary trailer.
At times, the drizzle hampered Hawkeye; again, it aided him when he used its blurred covering to close in and check up on his quarry. In fact, it was that very process that helped Hawkeye at the final point of the trail.
Hawkeye was close to Trip when they reached an isolated street. Closing in, Hawkeye saw a fringe of lamplight. He stopped short, watching. He saw Trip shift his pace to the right. Then the man was gone.
Hurrying up, Hawkeye found himself by a doorway that led into a garage. He entered, knowing that Trip must have taken that direction.
Along in back of a row of stored cars, Hawkeye spied Trip turning into an inner doorway. Moving up, Hawkeye expected to find a stairway. Instead, he stepped into a dimly lighted space that looked like nothing more than an airshaft.
Listening, Hawkeye caught a slight sound from the wall ahead. Advancing toward the sound, he stopped at a tin-sheathed barrier that looked like a fireproof lining of the compartment. But Hawkeye knew the cause of the sound that he could barely hear.
That rough wall was actually the doorway to a small elevator shaft. Trip had entered the elevator and was ascending to some destination above.
The slight rumble ceased. Hawkeye knew that it would be dangerous to follow further. He had at least learned the vicinity of Trip’s goal.
SNEAKING from the compartment, Hawkeye noticed a closer exit at the rear of the garage. He went through it and came into an alleyway that led him into the next street.
This was a quiet, secluded thoroughfare; but among older buildings were some modern ones. The nearest was an apartment house. Upon the drizzle-soaked awning that served as a marquee, Hawkeye read the name:
HOTEL THURMONT
The Hotel Thurmont backed against the old garage in which Hawkeye had last seen Trip Burley. It was quite possible that the elevator which Trip had taken could have carried him to some spot in that hotel.
Furthermore, there was every reason to suppose that such was actually the case. For Hawkeye — like many others concerned in underworld affairs — knew that the Hotel Thurmont was the apartment house where Rook Hollister lived.
Hawkeye’s second trail had told him why The Shadow had wanted him to follow Trip Burley. Of those lieutenants who had met in Chinatown tonight, one had been a traitor to the plotters themselves. That one was Trip Burley.
Hawkeye was positive that Trip had gone back to Rook; that already the tool was telling the big shot that his lieutenants had slated him for death. Hawkeye had learned more than facts concerning coming crime.
He had gained the proof that confirmed The Shadow’s suspicions of an understanding between Trip Burley and Rook Hollister.
And while Hawkeye was checking, The Shadow would be looking for more higher types of evidence.
CHAPTER III. THE DEATH WARRANT
PING GRADLEY had announced his plans at the Chinatown meeting. In so doing, he had let out information which he had hitherto confined to the members of his own mob. But since Ping was working under orders from Rook Hollister, he had deemed it wise to spill the news to the lieutenants who had accepted him as a fellow plotter.
Louie Caparani, of course, had known beforehand that Ping was scheduled to command a strongarm crew in his behalf. Louie as well as Ping were both in accord, so far as Rook Hollister was concerned.
They would as soon work for one big shot as another; so they had no reason to undercut Rook’s plan for tonight.
When Ping Gradley left the Chinatown meeting, he was already formulating his final plans. He intended to time his job at the Casino Rouge. He was looking forward to murder with a relish. The fact that his success would temporarily vindicate Rook Hollister in the eyes of his lieutenants was a matter to which Ping was comparatively indifferent.
The meeting had been held early. The proper time for a night club foray on the part of gangsters would be much later. Hence, every one at the meeting had understood that Ping would be in no hurry about putting Karl Durmsted on the spot.
Hawkeye, too, had recognized that fact. Hence The Shadow’s agent had completed his appointed task of following Trip Burley before reporting matters which concerned Ping Gradley.
But Hawkeye’s trail had been a short one. Within half an hour after he had left Chinatown, the little agent had reported to Burbank. The contact man, in turn, had communicated with The Shadow. He had done this by a call over the private wire to The Shadow’s sanctum, that hidden abode where the master fighter planned his campaigns against men of evil.