“It was Delka. And the detective — Cardona — was one of those who saw the body.”
“Does he suspect?”
“No. Delka had taken his papers from his pockets. He was about to change attire. But Cardona is no one’s fool. He eyed you closely, my man.”
Cady nodded, worried.
“And that,” added Knight, “is why we must make no blunder. You must leave here at once. I believe that Cardona is suspicious of you.”
“I guess he thinks I’m trailing Delka.”
“Precisely. And suppose he apprehends you before you have opportunity to leave the hotel? What would you do about it?”
“I’d put up a bluff.”
“Certainly. But suppose you had my reply on your person?”
“I get it. The works would be gummed. Say” — Cady caught himself before repeating the name Jed — “say, you’re as beany as they say you are. O.K. You’ll be seeing somebody in Washington.”
Cady ducked for the door. Knight stopped him, motioned the fake bell hop back and opened the door himself. He took a look along the corridor; then motioned Cady out.
Returning to the room, the Englishman called the porter and paced about until the man arrived.
“I am departing for Washington,” he told the attendant. “See to it that my luggage is delivered immediately to the baggage room in the Pennsylvania depot. I shall be there myself to attend to its transportation. The name is Jarvis Knight.”
THE Englishman left the suite and descended to the lobby. Carefully avoiding the desk, he went to the cashier’s cage and paid for one night. The cashier seemed surprised when he discovered that the guest had only arrived a few hours before.
“If you speak to the clerk, Mr. Knight,” he suggested, “he will call the manager. A rebate can be arranged, since you are checking out on the same day that you came here.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” responded Knight, brusquely. “By the way, I might just as well leave the key here, without delaying myself to stop at the desk.”
The clerk who had seen the original guest who signed as Jarvis Knight did not recognize the substitute who passed the desk. The second Mr. Knight left the Hotel Goliath unquestioned by the one person who might have challenged him.
FIVE minutes after that departure, Joe Cardona came into the hotel lobby. Looking about, the swarthy detective spied a cadaverous fellow lounging by the desk. Cardona knew the man. He was Hyslop, a house dick in the employ of the Hotel Goliath.
“Hello, Bill,” greeted Cardona, approaching the hotel detective. “Say, there’s something you can do for me. There’s a guy I’m looking for that used to work places as a bell hop. I’ve got a hunch he may have grabbed a job here.”
“Yeah?” queried Hyslop, arching thin eyebrows. “What was the bird’s name?”
“Don’t know it. That’s the trouble. Best way to describe him is that he looks like a rat and has a twitchy face.”
Hyslop nodded wisely. He gestured to the bell captain, who approached to join the conference. Hyslop introduced the fellow to Cardona.
“Looks like Joe here is looking for Cady,” informed the house dick. “Tell him about the guy, Jerry.”
A tall man had entered the lobby and was crossing to the desk. Keen eyes, peering from a masklike face, observed Cardona and the others. The stranger stopped close by. He stood unnoticed, as strangely stealthy as when he had left the bridge of the Steamship Zouave. The stranger was The Shadow. He had returned to New York.
“Parker Cady was a funny mug,” the bell captain was telling Cardona. “Only been on the job a couple of days. Five minutes ago, he turned in his uniform and walked out. Acted like he was sore about something.”
“I asked Jerry if he thought the guy had pulled something,” put in Hyslop. “But Jerry wasn’t sure, so we let him slide. We’ve got his address where he used to live; but I guess you won’t find him there if he’s taken it on the lam.”
“Maybe he handed you a phony moniker,” suggested Joe.
“Not likely,” said the house dick. “We check close on new employees. The guy may be phony; but his name’s straight. Come on over to the office; we’ll check on it.”
THE trio departed. A clerk noticed the silent stranger by the desk, and approached him. The Shadow made quiet inquiry concerning a friend.
“Odd that I should have forgotten the chap’s name,” he remarked. “He just arrived today, by the Doranic. I believe that he is stopping here—”
The clerk nodded and went away. Such inquiries were not entirely unusual; they were accepted if the questioner appeared to be a person of importance. Soon the clerk returned.
“A Mr. Jarvis Knight was here,” he stated. “He registered from London; but he left unexpectedly. He has gone to Washington; but he left no forwarding address.”
The Shadow strolled from the lobby. A soft laugh whispered from his fixed lips. He had picked a dozen possible hotels as possible destinations for either Eric Delka or Jed Barthue. The Goliath had been his third choice.
The sudden departure of Jarvis Knight was significant. It gave The Shadow the lead he wanted. The Shadow, too, had found a new objective. Washington would be his destination.
CHAPTER XI. AT THE CAPITAL
THIRTY hours had passed since The Shadow’s brief visit to the Hotel Goliath. Evening was settling above the city of Washington when The Shadow entered the lobby of a cumbersome, old-fashioned hotel known as the Barlingham.
As before, The Shadow was clad in street attire. He was wearing that same masklike countenance that had impressed Captain Hilder and the clerk at the Goliath. When he entered the Barlingham elevator and announced his destination as the sixth floor, the operator nodded to himself.
This stranger looked like a visitor to the sixth. For on that floor was the suite of Senator Ross Releston, the most distinguished resident of this old-fashioned establishment.
The Shadow knew his way when he reached the sixth floor. He had been here before. He entered a corner suite and stepped into a large lounge room. A secretary bowed in recognition.
“Good afternoon. Mr. Cranston,” The man stated. “Senator Releston is awaiting you. In his office, sir.”
The Shadow strolled leisurely through a hallway. He turned left and entered a large room that served as the senator’s office.
Releston was seated at a large desk. He arose to give hearty greeting to his visitor.
“My apologies, Cranston,” declared the senator. “It is seldom that I have been forced to keep you waiting for an appointment.”
A quiet smile appeared upon The Shadow’s thin lips. As Lamont Cranston, millionaire globe-trotter, he was always a welcome guest at Releston’s. Actually, Senator Releston had never met the real Lamont Cranston. That gentleman was usually engaged in travel. During his absence, The Shadow adopted Cranston’s personality.
“Glad to see you in Washington again,” resumed Releston, warmly. “But you certainly chose a time when I am busy. These committee activities are problems, Cranston.”
As his guest seated himself, the senator picked up a copy of a New York morning newspaper and pointed to the headlines. The Shadow took the journal and nodded as he read it. The front page contained an account of an interview that a Washington correspondent had held with Releston.
“Munitions and armaments are predominant,” stated the senator, as The Shadow turned pages to continue reading. “Too much publicity has been given to such matters. We have been fortunate, however. The manufacturers, themselves, have combined under one head.
“That enables us to watch the development of new inventions. Take the improved process for atmospheric nitrogen, as an example. It has possibility as a strictly commercial product. If it were shared by numerous concerns, it would be impossible to guide its future. But it happens to be controlled by the Super Process Corporation, now a subsidiary of Wesdren Enterprises.