Harry handled it carefully. He did not even touch the seal.
Going to the desk, Harry performed an operation which occurred to him as obvious. He inverted the bottle. The sponge became saturated with liquid from within. Harry rubbed the sponge over the entire face of the envelope. The paper became transparent immediately.
There was a single sheet of paper inside the envelope. The paper was now entirely visible. It contained several rows of numbers. Harry realized this must be the original code from which the old lawyer had made the copy to give to Elbert Joyce, that night in the darkened automobile.
He tore the top sheet from his pad, crumpled the paper in his pocket, and quickly transcribed the numbers to the pad. They were meaningless to Harry, but he copied them exactly:
“730-16; 457-20; 330-5; 543-26; 605-39; 808-1; 457-20; 38-14; 840-28; 877-27; 101-13; 872-21; 838-10.”
He checked the list to make sure he had taken them down correctly. He noticed that the surface of the envelope was less transparent.
Putting the pad in his pocket, Harry carefully straightened the piles of papers, and replaced the envelope where it belonged.
The envelope had dried completely; there was no trace whatever of the liquid which had enabled Vincent to read the hidden message.
He closed the safe and locked the steel door, then gathered up the various articles that he had brought. Turning the dial of the radio to the degree it had been originally, Harry quit the room. His watch showed eighteen minutes after eight.
Leaving the house, he crossed the street, and strolled back toward Holmwood Arms. He heard some one walking rapidly along the street, coming from the opposite direction. Jenks, likely, thought Harry, realizing that he had not had many minutes to spare.
Of all his adventures in the service of The Shadow, this had been the most unexpected. The radio announcer at WNX! How had that been arranged? Who was he? The Shadow, himself?
Harry thought of the numbers on the pad. No wonder they had puzzled old Ezekiel Bingham. He pictured Elbert Joyce working over them. Had the cryptogram expert solved their meaning? Well, soon the mysterious numbers would reach The Shadow and Joyce would be racing against a masterful rival.
Harry found his car at the garage, and drove toward the city. The rest of his work was easy. Back to the Metrolite Hotel to await further instructions.
“No adventures for another two hours, anyway,” Harry mused as he sped along. “But they’ll be coming along sooner or later.”
In this, he was but partly right. He was due for excitement much sooner than he expected.
The brilliant sign of a gasoline station reminded him that his car needed more fuel. The gauge showed less than two gallons. He pulled up, and ordered his tank filled. He proffered a twenty-dollar bill to the attendant.
The service man shook his head.
“Can’t change that. Nothing smaller?”
Harry searched in his pocket. Two twenties were all the money he had with him.
“I’ll get it changed for you,” volunteered the man.
“Make it quick. I’m in a hurry.”
“You’ll have to wait a minute,” replied the man. “Here’s another car coming up, and I’ll have to serve him gas before I can leave.”
“Where are you going to change it?”
“Over there at the lunch wagon.”
Vincent looked to where the service man pointed.
“Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll leave my car here, and get it changed myself.”
“O. K.,” replied the service man. “Tell them Fred sent you. They’ll change it for you.”
Vincent walked to the lunch wagon, climbed the steps, and pulled back the sliding door. There were two men behind the counter, and several others sitting on the stools.
“Change for a twenty?” asked Vincent. “Fred sent me.”
“Sure thing.”
Vincent counted the bills that he received, thrust the money in his pocket, and placed his hand upon the handle of the sliding door. Before he could open it, the door slid back suddenly. A man was entering the lunch wagon, and Harry found himself confronted by English Johnny!
CHAPTER XXV
A FRIEND IN NEED
HARRY stepped aside to let English Johnny pass.
Trying to appear nonchalant, Harry hoped he might escape recognition. The episode of the taxicab had occurred less than twenty-four hours before; but Harry was no longer wearing the cap and uniform in which the beefy-faced individual had seen him.
English Johnny’s attention was distracted for a moment by a cry of greeting that came from the men who were eating at the counter.
“H’lo, Johnny!” called one. “Heard you were coming out tonight.”
“Hello, boys,” was the reply from the doorway. “Yes, I expected to be out of town, but I sent word I’d come here instead to see how business was coming along.”
The big man entered the lunch wagon. As he stepped forward, Harry Vincent started to slip by. In his anxiety to get out, he accidentally jolted English Johnny.
“Hey, fellow!” shouted English Johnny gruffly. “What’s your hurry?”
He gripped Harry’s arm, and stared into his face.
“Just the fellow I’ve been looking for!” English Johnny exclaimed.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t try to crawl out of it, now. You’re the fellow who was giving me the run-around last night.”
Harry forced a laugh.
“I don’t quite comprehend,” he said.
“You were driving a cab last night.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Think so? Well, I don’t.”
There was a tone of finality in English Johnny’s voice.
Plainly, the man meant trouble. Harry started to shake himself loose, but the big man’s grip only tightened.
“You can’t get out of it that easy,” said English Johnny.
“Out of what?”
“Out of this - that’s what. You tried to pull a fast one on me last night. I’ll see to it that you don’t fool me again.”
The crowd at the back of the lunch wagon was moving forward. They were unanimously in accord with English Johnny.
Harry figured that a break for freedom was the only course. But to escape he must get the awkward door open and, at the same time, hold off English Johnny.
The big fellow evidently divined Harry’s intent, for English Johnny raised two huge fists in front of the young man’s eyes.
“What’s the idea?” asked Harry, keeping up his bluff.
“You’ll find out quick enough. I’m going to knock that mug of yours out of shape. It’ll look blame funny when I get through.”
“You’ll be letting yourself in for a lot of trouble if you do.”
“Hear that?” demanded English Johnny of the gang. “Hear him threaten me? I’ve got a right to sock him, ain’t I?”
There were seven men in the throng. Their words were all for English Johnny.
“We’ll stand with you. Hand him plenty!”
“I’ll take care of him when you’ve finished.”
Harry clenched his fists. He felt that he was the match of any one of the men, including the boastful English Johnny. But, against eight - his chances were hopeless.
The two men behind the counter, clad in white coats and aprons, were leaning on their elbows watching the show with anticipation. Fights were usually taboo in lunch wagons, but English Johnny was boss, and if he wanted a battle, it was all right.
Harry took a bold course. A fight was unavoidable. He might as well start it and get in a few blows for himself, before they ganged him - as seemed likely.
“Get out of my way,” he ordered.
He placed his hand against English Johnny’s chest and thrust the man back.
“Hit me, will you?” exclaimed the proprietor of the lunch wagon. “Now I’ve got a right to clean you up. You started it. You witnessed it, boys.”