“I see it now,” nodded Mann.
“Time grew short,” went on Farrow. “So I resolved upon a bold course. I was friendly with Diamond Bert. I told him I was doing time for having handled fake promotion schemes. I knew that I had impressed him as being the type of man he might use.
“So I openly informed him that I had seen him taking carrier pigeons from certain boxes. I wanted to know the lay. I said that I was due to get out of stir before him. I suggested that we team up.”
“What was his response?”
“This.” Farrow reached in his pocket and produced a coinlike object that he dropped upon the table.
IT was another of the Chinese disks. “Diamond Bert must have some of these hidden in his cell. He told me that by taking it, I became a member of his crew. It would be a token of identity by which I could reach him when he left the big house.”
“He told you where you would be able to find him?”
“No. He simply said that when he left the pen, he would call an old friend named Yates Yocum, who runs a secondhand trunk shop down on The Bowery. Yocum, apparently, is not in the know. Merely a man whom Diamond Bert helped out in a business deal.
“I am to call Yocum. Giving no name — merely to ask if he has heard from Bert. Yocum — after he hears from Farwell — will name the place where I am to go.”
Farrow paused and indicated the folded papers, to signify that all these details were present in the written report. Then, with an emphatic gesture, he leaned close to the desk.
“I know this,” declared the sociologist. “Though Diamond Bert was cagy; though he postponed further talk until after our appointed meeting, he is planning crime on a heavy scale. His schemes are formulated. His workers will move when he gives the word.”
“After he is out?”
“Yes. He is risking nothing until then. That brings me to the most important part of my story. The exact time when Diamond Bert will be discharged from prison—”
“When will that be?”
“To-day, at three o’clock in the afternoon.”
Mann opened his eyes. Momentarily nervous, he glanced at his watch. He saw that it was only ten o’clock. That allowed five hours. Mann settled back with a smile.
“I sent a note to the warden yesterday,” said Farrow. “I was released at six o’clock in the afternoon. Since I could not see you until this morning, I went to a hotel in Poughkeepsie. I left by an early morning train.
“Knowing how slippery Diamond Bert might prove to be, I called Dave Garvell, who had charge of my apartment. I gave him certain orders. I told him to send a man up to watch the prison; to be ready to trail Diamond Bert when he left.”
“Who was the man you sent?”
“A former crook called Hawkeye. The cleverest trailer in the business. He is stopping near the prison and will keep in communication with Dave. If Hawkeye is needed, he is ready to trail Diamond Bert. If he is not needed, we can call him off.”
Mann picked up the written report. He stared from the window; then turned directly to Farrow.
“Suppose you go to your apartment,” suggested Mann. “By the time you reach there, I shall have the answer. Your report will have reached the proper hands. There is plenty of time between now and three o’clock.
“It was understood that you would arrive here before the time of Diamond Bert’s release. You have done so. Five hours will prove sufficient. But I feel sure” — a smile flickered on Mann’s lips — “that plans have been made to keep tabs on Diamond Bert.”
Farrow understood. The Shadow himself intended to take up the crook’s trail. Hawkeye would not be needed. At the same time, Farrow knew that Mann — even if cognizant of The Shadow’s intention — could make no further statement.
“Very well,” decided Farrow. “I shall follow your instructions, Mr. Mann. But before I leave, suppose I call Dave. He hasn’t heard from me since last night.”
“Quite all right,” responded Mann. “Use the telephone, right there beside you.”
FARROW called the number of his apartment. He gained a response. He listened while Dave’s voice clicked over the wire. Mann, watching, saw Farrow start. Hoarsely, the sociologist ended his conversation; then dropped the receiver on the hook.
“What has happened?” inquired Mann, quickly.
“Diamond Bert!” exclaimed Farrow. “He’s out!”
“Escaped?”
“No. The warden had to go to Albany. So he made an unexpected change in his established routine. He released Diamond Bert and some other prisoners at nine o’clock this morning!”
“How did Dave learn that?”
“From Hawkeye. He must have heard that it was going to happen. He called Dave at half past eight. Then he started out to pick up Diamond Bert’s trail.”
Mann was making notes on a sheet of paper. Farrow was nervous as he watched him. To the sociologist, this was a catastrophe. It marked failure to the finish of his efforts. Fumbling, Farrow picked up the Chinese disk that he had laid on Mann’s desk.
“Hawkeye may trail Diamond Bert,” he declared, with an attempt at hopefulness. “If he fails, there’s still this disk. It will give me a chance to meet with Diamond Bert. After he reaches New York.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mann, completing his notations. “Go back to your apartment. Call me here or at my home, the moment that you hear from Hawkeye. Do nothing else until you receive instructions.”
Farrow nodded. He arose and left the office. Rutledge Mann picked up the telephone and made a call.
Burbank responded. Tersely, Mann stated that he was forwarding the report; then added the news concerning Diamond Bert’s unexpected release.
That done, Mann rewrote his notations, using bright blue ink. He folded the paper along with Farrow’s report and thrust all into a large envelope. He arose and went out of the office.
Mann was leaving for Twenty-third Street. There he would thrust his packet through the letter slit of a closed office in an old, dilapidated building. The Shadow, informed by Burbank, would collect the envelope himself.
From now on, decision rested with The Shadow. He had planned well; Slade Farrow had accomplished definite results. Yet chance had played an evil hand. With Farrow’s information gained, The Shadow could have moved to block Diamond Bert from the time the crook came out of stir.
The Shadow had the goods. By meeting Diamond Bert face to face, he could stop the big shot without allowing time for a crooked move. Or, by staying close to the released convict, he could listen in on Diamond Bert’s plans; to learn the crook’s associates; to find out Farwell’s schemes before delivering a thrust.
Ill luck had ended that opportunity. Diamond Bert was free. His organization was ready. Carriers of the Chinese disks were ready to aid in schemes of crime. Upon Hawkeye’s ability as a trailer; upon Farrow’s indefinite appointment rested the only chances that remained.
If those failed, Diamond Bert would be in the clear, ready to weave his new spell of insidious crime. A supercrook, head of a secret ring, Diamond Bert Farwell had left the toils of the law, prepared to deliver evil that would outmatch his crimes of the past.
CHAPTER VIII. TWO TRAILS
NIGHT covered Manhattan. Twelve hours had passed since Diamond Bert Farwell had left the clanging doors of the State pen. Swiftly and in expert fashion, the slippery crook had disappeared. He had headed, without question, for one objective: New York.
The metropolis, with its maelstrom of humanity, was Diamond Bert’s logical goal. There his hidden organization awaited his arrival. There, lost among the teeming multitudes, he could find a place of security as headquarters for the campaign of evil that he planned.
Like a pebble dropped into a lake, Diamond Bert was gone. After him had plunked another human pebble: Hawkeye. The man upon whom Slade Farrow relied as a trailer was also missing since early that morning.