Cliff Marsland was seated at one of the tables. The Shadow’s agent had foreseen Pug’s move, back at the little room. Dodging just before Pug had had a chance to spot him, Cliff had doubled on his tracks.
He had reached a table before Pug had decided to investigate the corridor.
Cliff did not excite Pug’s suspicion. Satisfied that all was well, the gang leader strolled back to the room where he had left Birdy. It was then that Cliff, in turn, arose and walked to the counter.
“Say, Mike,” Cliff growled to the proprietor, “where’s Duster Yomer? Hasn’t he been around lately?”
“Not here,” returned Red Mike. “He hangs out over at the Black Ship. Ain’t you been in there, Cliff?”
“Didn’t think of it,” mused Cliff. “Say — maybe I could call over there and get him.”
“Does he answer telephone calls?”
“Sure. When he gets the password. I’ll use your phone, Mike.”
The proprietor nudged his thumb toward a doorway on the opposite side of the room. Cliff walked in that direction. He entered a short corridor and found an ancient coin box in a room which resembled the one where Pug Hoffler and Birdy Zelker were quartered.
Closing the door behind him, Cliff called a number. With the click of the receiver at the other end, a quiet voice made itself known with these words: “Burbank speaking.”
“Marsland,” returned Cliff. “Reporting from Red Mike’s. Birdy Zelker here with Pug Hoffler. Planning raid to rob philanthropist called Dorand. To-night.”
“Further details?”
“None. I’ll try to get them. Pug knows the place; Birdy doesn’t. I’ll have to trail one or the other.”
“Report received. Await instructions. Repeat call after fifteen minutes.”
Cliff Marsland hung up the receiver and strolled from the room. Burbank, to whom Cliff had been speaking, was The Shadow’s contact man. Messages and reports phoned by The Shadow’s active agents were relayed by Burbank to The Shadow himself.
CLIFF wondered, as he reached a table, what The Shadow’s order would be. Perhaps he would leave this job to Cliff. Possibly he would come here in disguise. More likely, if The Shadow happened to be within Burbank’s reach, he would come and linger outside of Red Mike’s to pick up the trail himself.
As a tracker of suspicious characters, The Shadow was without an equal. Time and again, this master worker who moved with the stealth of night had stalked his quarry through the confines of the underworld.
It was Cliff’s job to stand by, to learn all that he could to aid The Shadow. It would be unwise to return to the little room where Pug and Birdy were, now that Pug’s suspicions had been aroused. Yet Cliff had an itch to do so, for he was positive that Pug was telling Birdy all that he knew about a wealthy philanthropist known as Dorand.
While Cliff was considering the possibility of some action, he saw Pug and Birdy come out from the corridor. There was a wise look on Birdy’s face that signified much. Cliff was positive that the hunched gangster had learned facts from Pug.
Cliff expected the two to leave Red Mike’s. Instead, Pug went out alone. Cliff waited. He was sure that by trailing Birdy he could accomplish as much as by following Pug. A few minutes passed; then Birdy arose and walked into the opposite corridor, toward the telephone room!
This was Cliff’s cue. Birdy had passed Red Mike unnoticed. Rising, Cliff approached the counter as the proprietor chanced to look in his direction. In a growling tone, Cliff announced that his call to the Black Ship had not gone through; that he intended to try calling it again.
As he followed Birdy’s path, Cliff had a hunch that the little gangster was following some order that Pug Hoffler had given him. There was time to catch the beginning of a telephone call which Birdy must be making. Cliff was eager to get in on any information which might be obtainable.
Outside the door of the little room, Cliff paused. He slowly turned the knob of the door. He pushed the barrier ajar. He heard the tones of Birdy’s voice. A look of frank astonishment crept over Cliff’s firm face as he listened to the words that Birdy Zelker was uttering.
In the space of a few brief seconds, Cliff Marsland gained an inkling of astounding facts that he had not suspected!
CHAPTER III. BIRDY TALKS
“HELLO…” Birdy Zelker’s whisper was an anxious one. “Dot you, Joe?… Dis is Birdy… Yeah… I been talkin’ to him… Here at Red Mike’s… Say, Joe, I’ve got de dope on de guy…”
These were the words that caused Cliff Marsland’s astonishment. From the tone of Birdy’s voice, from the explanation which the little gangster was giving, Cliff not only knew the identity of the man to whom Birdy was speaking, he also realized that Birdy was engaged in a game of double cross.
Joe! That was a name which Cliff Marsland knew. It was the first name of Joe Cardona, ace sleuth of the Manhattan force. Birdy’s anxiety to accompany Pug Hoffler on to-night’s job was at once explained.
Birdy Zelker was a stool pigeon!
Having gained details regarding Pug Hoffler’s plans, Birdy was squealing to the police. He was tipping Cardona off to the Dorand business. He had pulled a fast one on Pug Hoffler.
“Listen, Joe.” Birdy’s words were plaintive. “Dey’d get me here if dey knew I was callin’ you. Dere’s plenty of time. I’m waitin’ here a half hour, see? Den I’ll slide out. You pick me up outside of dis place — Red Mike’s. Trail me an’ I’ll tip you off when I’m sittin’ safe. Den we can talk.
“Yeah… Yeah… If anybody sees you trailin’ me, it’ll give me an alibi. See?… Sure, I can laugh it off dat way… I don’t want no one to see me, but if dey do…”
Birdy paused. The little gangster licked his lips as he listened. He was evidently receiving instructions; and as chance would have it, they must have come with an abrupt ending that Birdy understood. Before Cliff realized what Birdy was about to do, the stool suddenly hung up the receiver and wheeled quickly toward the door of the little room.
Cliff, peering through the door, had no chance to dodge. He caught the frightened look on Birdy’s face that came when the stool realized he had been spotted.
As Birdy dropped back instinctively, Cliff acted in opposite fashion. Like a flash, The Shadow’s agent bobbed through the door and, with a sweeping motion, brought a ready automatic from his hip.
Before Birdy could recover from his fright, Cliff was standing with the door nearly closed behind him and was covering the stool pigeon with his .45. Birdy backed against the wall and cowered, hands above head.
IN the brief interval in which he had acted, Cliff Marsland had changed his plan. He held Birdy Zelker at his mercy. As a recognized representative of gangdom, Cliff had every right — by the code of the underworld — to put the stool pigeon on the spot.
He also had the privilege of calling in witnesses to share in his knowledge of Birdy’s perfidy. That would bring the same result; except that less explanation would be necessary on Cliff’s part. The look on Birdy’s face showed that the stool expected Cliff to follow the second course.
Instead, Cliff waited. His face took on a sullen look that indicated a relish of the situation. Birdy cringed hopelessly. His lips moved, but no words came from them. The hunched gangster knew that pleading would be useless.
“Talking to Joe Cardona, eh?” questioned Cliff. “Looks like you were trying to double-cross a pal. You came in here like you were a friend of Pug Hoffler. Nice kind of a rat you turned out to be!”
Birdy licked his lips but dared not speak.
“What’s this dope you were going to hand Cardona?” continued Cliff, indicating clearly that he had overheard Birdy’s end of the telephoned conversation. “Something about what Pug’s doing?”