Wesdren and Releston departed. The Shadow moved back to the alcove and lingered there. Pacing servants passed at times; knowing that they were secret service men, The Shadow kept out of view.
Half an hour elapsed. The door of Jollister’s room opened; the long-limbed man peered suspiciously into the hall. He spied one of the supposed servants as the man turned casually about. Jollister’s expression changed. He stepped from the room, carrying hat and coat.
“I shall return later, Egbert,” he rumbled to the servant. “I have informed Mr. Wesdren of that fact.”
Jollister strode to the front door and went from the house. The watchmen kept an eye on the door; then turned and went away. A short while later, The Shadow issued from the alcove. Obscure in the gloomy hallway, he moved unseen to the front door.
There, in a little vestibule, he removed hat and cloak. Peering about, he saw none of the secret service men. He stepped out to the street, closing the door behind him. In the deliberate manner of Lamont Cranston, he walked away, his features wearing the millionaire’s guise. Cloak over arm appeared as a light overcoat; the slouch hat was beneath it.
The shadow’s objective was the Skyview Plaza. He arrived there, went to his room and left cloak and hat. He strolled up to the sixth floor, unlocked the door of the room next to Knight’s and entered. Then he slowly opened the connecting door to the Britisher’s suite.
The Shadow did not expect to find Knight, for he had seen the key of Suite 604 in its pigeonhole behind the lobby desk. As The Shadow had anticipated, the Britisher was absent.
Passing through the bedroom, The Shadow reached the living room and made a brief inspection. He happened to note the wastebasket; he saw the crumpled wads of paper that Knight had tossed there.
Opening these, The Shadow noted the numbered lines, and copied them. He replaced the wads in the basket; then swung quickly into the bedroom as someone unlocked the door from the corridor.
It was the maid, coming to arrange the rooms. Her first act was to take out the wastebasket. The Shadow closed the connecting door beyond the bedroom. He strolled out to the corridor, arriving there just after the woman had gone back into Knight’s suite.
Back in his own room, The Shadow made a study of the incomplete messages. He saw that the first part of the longer one was a repetition of the shorter. The first the read:
19 20 25 1 15 20 21 24 24 13 7 11 2
The Shadow inscribed letters on a piece of paper. They were as follows:
Y J X Q
The translation continued no further.
The letter Q brought it to an abrupt ending The Shadow checked other numbers along the time, making little horizontal brackets that joined them in pairs.
Then he folded the two copies and placed them in the drawer with the papers that he had translated on the preceding night. He laughed softly as he took a hat and cane from a closet; then, with the leisurely manner of Cranston, he went from the room.
The Shadow paused when he reached the lobby. Several bell boys were on duty; but Cady was not among them. Knight’s key was still in its box. Swinging his cane, The Shadow strolled out to the street.
THERE was a good reason for Cady’s absence. The rat-faced crook who passed as hell hop was, at present, far from the Skyview Plaza. Attired in street clothes, Cady was at that minute entering the lobby of a cheap hotel on the other side of Washington.
There was no elevator in the hotel. Cady walked up a loosely carpeted stairway and found a door that bore the number 41. He rapped cautiously; the door opened. Cady stepped in, to face Chink Huron.
“Well?” The heavy-browed racketeer rasped his question. “Did Jed come back?”
“Yeah,” returned Cady. “About an hour after he went out. But I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”
“Why not?”
“Marquette was with him. The guy’s like a leech. I was watching for Jed in the hall. When he went in the room, I snooped outside.”
“That was dumb. I told you to be careful.”
“Maybe it was, Clink, but it worked out good. I’ve been figuring that Marquette’s getting leery of Jed, see? The way he’s holding close to him, Jed don’t have no chance. But I guess it’s O.K., after what I heard.”
“What was that?”
“Marquette was talking like a pal. If he’d been leery, he wouldn’t have. He was talking about the place they’d been. A house where a guy named Caleb Wesdren lives. That’s where the strong room is, and there’s four mugs supposed to be flunkies. But they ain’t. They’re Feds.”
“Cut it,” snapped Clink. “I’m wise to that lay. What I want to know is what happened afterward. Did they go out?”
“Yeah! Marquette and Jed together. I ducked when I heard them coming to the door. I stuck around, thinking maybe Jed would be back. He didn’t come, so I did what you told me over the telephone.”
“You found that half-finished message that Jed started to write?”
“Yeah. I used a pass-key to get in. One I swiped from the bell captain. Here’s the copy, Clink. I chucked the one Jed wrote back into the basket, so Jed wouldn’t be worried if he came back alone and found it missing.”
Clink jerked open a folded paper that Cady handed him. The racketeer’s brow lowered; his lips straightened and he nodded as he studied the numbered lines.
“Any good, Clink?” queried Cady. “Jed had got pretty well along with it when Marquette blew in this morning. I figured there might be enough to make some sense.”
“It tells me enough,” returned Clink. “Jed didn’t need to write any more. This is all the big shot wanted to know.”
“Then Jed should have slipped it along as it was.”
“He hadn’t finished, Cady. Marquette was coming up. Jed had to think quick. Don’t bother your noodle about it. This is a break all around.”
“How’s that?”
“It means you won’t have to go back on the bell-hop beat. We won’t need to get in touch with Jed for a while. Sit down over there, while I call the big boy.”
CADY sat down. Clink went to the telephone and dialed a number. There was no answer. He hung up abruptly and began to pace the room. He consulted his watch as he walked back and forth.
Twenty minutes passed while Clink made no comment. All the while, Cady watched the racketeer with blinking eyes, but he knew enough of Clink’s ways to refrain from conversation.
At the end of the interval, Clink turned to pick up the telephone. It rang just as he was about to lift the receiver. Cady knew instantly that the coincidental call must be from the big shot.
“Hello…” Clink’s tone was eager. “Say, Cady got that answer… Yeah, the part of it that Jed had written. You guessed what was in it, all right… Yeah…
“Well, that wises us up… No, I haven’t told Cady anything yet… Except that he don’t have to go back to the hotel… Sure thing. I thought you’d want to use Cady… Yeah. I’ll send him along with another guy…
“Yeah, I think two’s all you’ll need… They’ll leave the car outside… It’s a swift boat, alright… With a big trunk for the bags…
“You won’t have to worry about the way I pull the big job. It’s going to be a set-up, the way you’ve framed it… Sure. The other cars are all ready…
“What’s that?.. Yeah. I’ll see him myself, down at the Skyview Plaza… Tomorrow night’s soon enough. Marquette won’t stick with him forever… I won’t forget Cady’s button… All right, chief…”
Clink hung up and turned to Cady. The racketeer’s deep-lined face wore a satisfied grin. Clink snapped his fingers.
“Slip me that coin button, Cady,” he ordered. “I’ll need it tomorrow.”
“You’re going to see Jed yourself?” queried Cady.