As minutes drifted by, Harry suddenly realized the man’s plan. Stacks Lodi had given the number of his own room — indicating it as a spot of entrance for men from the dark. He had given Carter Boswick’s room to tell them where to go. But he, himself, intended to remain in the lobby, establishing an alibi, no matter what might happen; and also being in a position to deal with the clerk, should such action be necessary!
HARRY returned to his own room. The light was still on. The moment that Harry entered, he stopped just within the door.
The side of the hotel was on a vacant field. If men were out there, they could easily see any one within these rooms, while the lights were on. Harry recalled that he had been foolish enough to go over by the window when he had first entered. In fact, the window was slightly open now, as he had left it.
That must be corrected at once. Harry reached for the light switch; then his eyes spied an envelope that was lying beside the bed.
Stooping, Harry picked up the object. One corner of the envelope was smashed in. Harry realized that it had been scaled through the open window by some one standing in the outer darkness below. An accurate piece of swift marksmanship had sent this unexpected message here. Harry opened the envelope and drew out a folded note.
Clear blue ink greeted his eyes. The writing was in a code which Harry understood. A message from The Shadow! Harry translated it rapidly:
Bring Carter Boswick into your room. Explain that danger threatens. His place will be taken as soon as he is gone. Wait until after commotion has begun. It will convince him of danger. Drop from window. Your car has been moved to rear of hotel. Escape with Boswick.
As Harry watched, the writing began to disappear, as though an invisible hand were erasing every sentence. Word by word, the entire message faded.
That was the way with letters from The Shadow. If they fell into the wrong hands, the enemy could profit nothing. The ink which The Shadow used asserted its vanishing properties the moment that it came in contact with the air.
Harry turned out the light. He stole to the window; instead of closing it, he opened it wide. He could barely see the ground beneath. He recognized that the drop would be an easy one.
Now to call on Carter Boswick.
A tenseness had come over Harry, and under this influence he failed totally to calculate the time element. He did not realize that this message might have come into his room just after his departure, and that he had been away for many minutes during his observation from the porch outside the hall.
Nor did he know that almost immediately after Stacks Lodi had come back into the lobby, there had been a shadowy motion outside the door of the hotel.
Harry, by his dilatory action, was unwittingly holding back The Shadow’s plan. In fact, as Harry crept along the hall, he was thinking too much of what The Shadow might intend to do — and not enough of his own part.
Carter Boswick out of Room 208 — The Shadow there in his place! What a surprise that would be for those who might be coming up through the window of Lodi’s room, to make an unexpected attack upon a sleeping victim!
This thought was uppermost in Harry Vincent’s mind as he tapped at the door of Carter Boswick’s room. The response that came gave Harry new assurance. The man within was still awake. His voice, though sleepy, showed that he would be ready to listen to what Harry had to say.
The time was here for Harry’s first action in accordance with The Shadow’s plan.
CHAPTER XII
THE ALLIANCE
MR. BOSWICK?”
A prompt reply came to Harry’s question.
“Yes,” said a voice through the door. “What do you want?”
“I have an important message for you.”
A key turned. The door opened. Carter Boswick faced Harry Vincent in the dim light of the hall. Carter was fully dressed, except for coat and vest. He had evidently been taking a short nap. Harry was pleased at this sign of vigilance.
“My name is Vincent,” Harry explained. “I must talk with you. My room is down the hall — 222 — and it would be wise to go there.”
Suspicion showed in Carter Boswick’s eyes. Suspicion faded. Harry’s countenance was one that showed complete frankness. Carter realized that this unexpected visit must mean that trouble threatened. Harry looked like a friend.
Nodding his willingness to accompany the man who had come for him, Carter Boswick picked up his coat and vest from a chair beside the bed. Harry Vincent pointed to the other articles that could be seen from the hall — hat, overcoat, and two unpacked suitcases. He picked up the luggage while Carter took the hat and coat.
“Hurry along,” whispered Harry tensely. For the first time, The Shadow’s agent was beginning to realize the amount of time that had been consumed.
Harry preceded Carter along the hall. He noted the door of Room 215 as he passed. He turned to see if his companion was following him. Carter was some fifteen feet behind, just nearing the door of Stacks Lodi’s room.
Instantly, Harry discovered an impending menace. During the moment that Harry had passed, the door had opened, unobserved by Carter, who was not watching it. The door had swung inward, and Harry could see the figure of a man crouching just within the darkness.
“Look out!” Harry blurted the warning as the crouching man leaped forward.
Swift action followed. Carter Boswick turned just in time to encounter the attacker. The man’s uplifted arm was descending. The striking hand held a blackjack. With an instinctive defense, Carter struck the blow aside, and planted his fist against the side of the fellow’s head.
Harry, dropping the suitcases, had simultaneously sprung to the rescue. He arrived just as the attacker tumbled to the floor. He grabbed Carter Boswick’s arm, in a quick effort to draw his companion from the danger zone.
It was then that Carter blundered!
Forgetting that Harry had given the warning, he thought that he had been led into a trap. He took Harry’s present act as an indication of treachery. With an angry cry, he hurled himself upon the man who had befriended him.
AS the two young men struggled, the fellow with the blackjack came to his feet. It was Scully, Stacks Lodi’s assistant.
There was no need for silence now. With snarling lips, Scully sounded the cry for a general attack.
Three men, armed with gleaming revolvers, pounced forth from Room 215. Scully, backed against the wall, clutched his blackjack and gave the order for murder.
“Get both of them!” was his snarl. “One is the guy we want. Bump the other one, too!”
These words came just as Harry Vincent managed to wrest himself free from Carter Boswick’s grasp. In so doing, Harry had sent Carter spinning across the hall; Harry, in turn, was trying to catch himself against the wall. Both young men found themselves staring into the muzzles of revolvers.
Carter, in his staggering course, had stopped but two feet from where Scully stood. The gangster’s hand came up with the blackjack. The beginning of its downward swing was the final signal for cold murder.
Fingers waited on triggers, ready to fire as that blow fell. Scully’s action had brought a momentary lull, each villain ready to give their leader the opportunity for the first stroke.
As Scully’s wrist poised viciously above his head, a shot sounded from the window at the end of the hall. A bullet skimmed Scully’s unkempt hair, and struck the gangster’s wrist.
A fiendish cry of rage came from Scully’s bloated lips. The blackjack, as though plucked away by a hand from nowhere, snapped out of Scully’s fingers, and made a long parabola toward the ceiling. The gangster collapsed, clutching his right wrist with his left hand.