Moreover, that plot in which Ring and Carl figured was one which would certainly change The Shadow’s plans. Either his preparations would be delayed, or else they would be altered. That was according to what might occur at Andrew Blouchet’s. At this moment, one certainty alone existed: that was a new menace which must be cleared at once. The Shadow had a way for such accomplishment; he was taking the urgent step.
Innocent persons; guilty ones; double-crossers as well as crooks who fought with steel, not strategy — all these were on The Shadow’s board. Some could be left alone; others must be moved with speed. The Shadow was taking the one step that could bring an immediate result.
CHAPTER XVI. THE DOUBLE CROSS
EIGHT o’clock had struck while Carl Randon was at Ring Stortzel’s. Harry Vincent, however, had not left Andrew Blouchet’s. The Shadow’s agent had lingered past the hour, in hope that something might develop. Andrew was still counting upon a telephone call from Jerry Bodwin, to bring the announcement that Fanchon Callier had returned.
On the point of leaving, Harry stopped on the threshold when the telephone bell began to ring. Andrew, seated in an easy-chair, gave a sudden bound and dashed to answer. Harry stared across the living room and watched Andrew when he spoke. He saw Andrew gasp; then change expression.
“It’s — it’s” — Andrew paused suddenly, then added: “I hadn’t expected to hear from you… Where… Yes, I am listening… Well, yes… Yes, I am alone…”
He stopped to gesture to Harry, an indication that his friend was not to speak.
“As good as alone,” resumed Andrew. “Vincent was here. He has gone out… No, he does not know who is calling… I see… But, wait; I don’t quite understand—” Andrew’s face was puzzled. Then, in a less perplexed tone, he resumed:
“All right… Certainly, I trust you… Whatever you say goes. Yes. I shall leave at once. The light? Of course… I shall leave it on… Yes, I can meet you at Wayson’s… At headquarters, of course… You are sure you will be there by then?… Yes, of course… I must hurry…”
Andrew hung up. Harry, nodding to himself, made a guess that the call was from Carl Randon. Andrew hurried about the living room, which no longer contained its palm trees and rustic benches. Finding hat and coat, he joined Harry at the door.
“Come along, Harry,” urged Andrew. “We have to leave here in a hurry. I’ll tell you about it later. We are due for a meeting in Lieutenant Wayson’s office.”
ANDREW had left the light on; he closed the door and turned the key. They hurried toward the courtyard steps and descended. On the way, Harry questioned:
“It was Lieutenant Wayson who called you?”
“No.” Andrew answered with a shake of his head. They were going beneath the archway. “No — we are simply going to Wayson’s office. You’ll know about it when we get there.
“Carl has located something?”
Harry’s new question showed that he had gone back to his original guess. Andrew gave a half nod.
“I think so,” he stated. “But don’t ask me any more, Harry. I promised not to tell who called. I was supposed to be alone, you understand. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Harry. I had to make a promise — in a hurry. You’ll know all about it later.”
They were on the street. Andrew edged Harry toward the side of a building. Haste had ended.
“Slide along easily,” whispered Andrew. “Don’t let anyone see us; the police, or — well, anybody. I’m still supposed to be back in the apartment.”
They turned a corner. No one was in sight. Andrew began a brisk pace; beside him, Harry kept along at the rapid gait. The Shadow’s agent was puzzled. He realized that Andrew might have had some purpose in a quick departure from the apartment; but it seemed as though the need for speed was still urgent.
“If you’re heading for headquarters,” remarked Harry, “we might as well stop somewhere and call a cab. It would be quicker in the long run.”
“Never mind the cab,” said Andrew, cryptically. “We’ll be stopping in a little while. As soon as we reach Canal Street.
A few minutes later, they reached the limit of the French Quarter. Coming out into the brilliance of Canal Street, Andrew slackened his pace, puffing. He eased into a slow stroll behind a group of pedestrians who were looking at the theater lights.
“What’s the idea?” laughed Harry. “First you were in a big hurry. Now you have nowhere to go.”
“That’s just it,” returned Andrew. “If you have any suggestion of a way to kill time, make it. Our appointment is not until nine o’clock.”
Harry suggested that they enter a hotel lobby. It was a natural one, for a slight drizzle was commencing and other walkers were beginning to avoid the wet.
Andrew nodded his agreement. Harry started across the street. The nearest hotel was the one where The Shadow had originally registered. Harry saw a chance to leave a message.
THEY entered the lobby and Andrew went to buy some cigarettes. Harry went to the desk and nodded to the clerk. He asked a question:
“Did Mr. Cranston call for that message I left here? If so, I should like to leave another.”
“You are Mr. Vincent?” came the query.
Harry nodded.
“Mr. Cranston was just here,” informed the clerk. “He left a message of his own, for you. He said that it would not require an answer.”
Harry received an envelope. He opened it and scanned inked lines. Coded writing faded; an amazed expression appeared upon Harry’s face.
He was sure that he had learned as much as Andrew; for The Shadow’s message gave Harry news that explained the call which Andrew had received. Pocketing blank sheets of paper, Harry strolled over to the cigar counter and found his friend.
“How soon are you going out to headquarters?” questioned Harry, so low-voiced that no one else could hear.
“Pretty soon,” replied Andrew. “Don’t worry about Wayson being there. This is one of his regular nights at headquarters. He has to make out reports on target practice.”
“Do you want me to go along with you?”
“Yes. You will learn something important, Harry.”
“Does Wayson expect both of us?”
Andrew laughed.
“He doesn’t exactly expect either of us,” he replied. “Forget it, Harry, until we arrive there. I am to be at Wayson’s office before nine o’clock. Let it go at that.”
“But was it specified that I should be there also?”
“No. But I want you to come along and—”
Harry shook his head.
“I had better stay here, Andy,” he said. “You go alone. If you want me, call me.”
Andrew considered.
“All right,” he decided. “That might be better, Harry. You’ll stay right here, though, ready to be paged.”
“Better than that. I’ll leave my name at the desk. No. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Andy. Let’s go over to the Hotel Southern, where the lobby is less crowded. You can start for headquarters from there.”
“Good enough. And you’ll leave your name—”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll call headquarters twenty minutes after you start there. I’ll ask for Lieutenant Wayson’s office.”
THE drizzle was increasing when Harry and Andrew headed for the Hotel Southern. The streets were becoming slippery, a fact that was not to their liking.
Elsewhere, however, two men had found the drizzle welcome. That was back in Frenchtown, a block from Andrew’s apartment.
Carl Randon was waiting in the rain. The drizzle had made the street lamps hazy; it had caused the policemen hereabouts to slow in their patrol. Carl saw an officer who had donned a poncho. He watched the officer slosh past the front of Andrew’s apartment. The way was clear.