Thus discouraged, Cranston naturally couldn’t be expected to press his theory regarding Central Park. It was after they left the Cobalt Club that Margo asked him:
“How did you know that the cab went from west to east?”
“I told Cardona why,” replied Cranston. “It was just a guess. It really didn’t matter which way the cab was headed. It happens though that there were two cabs, not just one.”
Margo’s slow nod meant that she understood more or less, so Cranston decided she should understand more.
“Two identical cabs,” Cranston explained, “even to a duplication of the license plates. The idea was to establish an alibi for both.”
“For both?”
“Of course. One was checked at the west entrance to the transverse while its driver was faking a flat tire. The time element proved that it couldn’t be the cab that took Ames from the hotel. However, that cab never completed its trip through the transverse. It swung into the old stable, was hoisted in the elevator, and went its way along the upper drive.”
“And the other cab came out below!”
“Correct. It was the cab that abducted Ames. Its driver completed the alibi that the first man had begun. His cab was brought down by the elevator to continue through the transverse.”
“Then that’s why the driver reported to the officer at the east exit!” exclaimed Margo. “He wanted to be recognized later, if necessary!”
Cranston nodded. Then:
“Above all,” he added, “the purpose was to draw all suspicion from Central Park, the place where a lot has happened and a lot more will. Well, Margo” - Cranston was glancing at his watch - “I’ll need what’s left of the afternoon. I’m going down to the Graceland Memorial Library.”
“To that mausoleum?” queried Margo. “Why?”
Cranston’s reply could have been termed a trifle cryptic.
“To acquire a few more facts concerning old New York,” Cranston announced, “and in particular that portion of Manhattan Island now known as Central Park.”
LIKE Lamont Cranston, Phil Harley could have told the police his theory regarding Winslow Ames; but Phil also doubted that he would be believed.
What was more important, Phil felt that he had gained certain leads, which if right would enable him to track down crime; but if wrong, would only give away all he knew, should any of the facts be made public.
There again, Phil’s situation resembled that of The Shadow, except that they were concerned with different persons. It would have been well if Phil and The Shadow could cooperate with each other, but so far they hadn’t gotten along at all; nor was there any way that they could reach each other.
Of course Phil’s main lead was Arline Forster, who struck him as much more of a mystery girl than Thara Lamoyne. Phil knew where to reach Arlene; namely at the Plaza Central. At least he hoped he could reach her there, but so far none of his phone calls to her room had been answered.
Phil was thinking this over as he watched the seals disport in the oblong pool at the Central Park Zoo. He’d thought that going over last night’s ground would help some, but it hadn’t. Now that it was getting dark, Phil decided to go to his own hotel, with a stop-off at the Plaza Central.
The route led past the buildings where the jungle animals were housed. The cages there were arranged to open indoors as well as out, so several sizeable beasts were on voluntary outdoor display, including a rather intelligent leopard.
Each outdoor cage had a barred door, out of reach across a low picket fence. The doors were fastened with formidable padlocks and evidently the handsome leopard rated high among the animals because his cage had a shiny new padlock. The leopard looked at Phil when Phil looked at it and then the leopard yawned.
Only it wasn’t just a yawn; the leopard gave a low growl. In leopard language it was saying that it didn’t like something and since Phil was about the only thing in sight, he was probably what the leopard didn’t like.
So Phil proceeded to the Plaza Central.
Just inside the door of that lavish hostelry, Phil was greeted by a peculiar gasp that reminded him a trifle of the leopard’s expression of annoyance. Again, Phil was the object, but this time the annoyed party was a girl.
And the girl was Arlene Forster.
“Good evening,” announced Phil, politely; “and what have I done to be rebuffed?”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” returned Arlene. “I have an appointment. Good-bye.”
“Since you’re going my way” - Phil supplied this as Arlene went out the door and turned along the street - “you won’t be sparing any precious minutes if you give me the particulars.”
“All right, then.” Arlene tossed her blonde head haughtily. “I just don’t like your persuasive way. That business of arguing me into taking a carriage ride around Central Park, for instance.”
“But I didn’t persuade you!”
“Then who did? I made a phone call and came out of the booth. Next you were putting me into that broken-down chariot. How long we rode, I don’t know, but you were still in the carriage when we arrived back at my hotel.”
They had passed Phil’s hotel, the Sans Souci, but he didn’t say he lived there. Phil kept right on walking in order to clear the mystery.
“But I didn’t put you in the hack!” Phil insisted. “You just disappeared. When I saw you again, you were riding around like a zombie.”
“Zombies don’t disappear,” argued Arlene, curtly, “but banshees do. Next, you’ll be calling me a banshee.”
“Maybe,” declared Phil indifferently. “It seems I’ve heard somewhere that banshees have a weakness for lilacs.”
It was well put, for Arlene was sporting a batch of lilac blossoms again tonight. For a moment, Phil saw blue eyes sparkle angrily; then the girl calmed down.
“I have an appointment,” Arlene explained patiently. “At the Chateau Parkview, where we met last night. So you sent me away in a hack and didn’t go along; all right, I’m willing to believe your story and you should know why.”
“And why?”
“Because I realize now that you intended to meet someone else and didn’t want me to interfere. But since it’s the other way around tonight, suppose you don’t interfere with my plans.”
They were nearing the Chateau Parkview, so Phil decided to make the best of a last few moments.
“You’d only arrived in New York when I met you,” Phil reminded Arlene. “How did you happen to stop at the Plaza Central?”
“Because you told me I had a reservation there,” returned Arlene, “or if you didn’t, someone else did. I don’t just remember.”
“But why did you come here at all?”
“Suppose I ask you that same question?”
“Good enough,” retorted Phil. “I came here because I was promised a good job. I was in the army, you know, so I suppose I ought to have a job.”
“And so should I,” countered Arlene. “I was in the Waves.”
Arlene looked ready to give Phil a wave right then, since they were entering the Chateau Parkview. Expecting such a dismissal, Phil parried it.
“It won’t matter if we chat a while,” he said. “If some bashful party is meeting you, he or she will probably wait. But there’s one thing I almost forgot” - Phil was looking at the lobby clock - “and that’s a phone call I have to make. Don’t vanish again while I’m gone!”
When Phil went to the phone booth, Arlene crossed the lobby and took a place out of his sight. Her lilacs immediately gained results, for a bellboy approached with a message in an envelope, evidently singling out Arlene because of her flowers.
Reading the message, Arlene took a quick look for Phil; not seeing him, she circled to an elevator and rode up to the top floor, where she found the door she wanted and knocked.
The door was promptly opened by a man with shaggy, unkempt hair, whose eyes were quick but friendly. He stepped back and nodded as he gestured for the girl to enter.