“Well, old man,” he said to Terry Barliss, “I wish you the best of luck. Use your bean; and give me a ring at the Metrolite Hotel after you’ve talked with Hargate.”
“I’ll do that,” promised Terry. “We can go over the whole case afterward. I know you’re with me in this deal, Harry.”
“I’m running downtown,” remarked Harry, in an indifferent tone. “Don’t forget the call.”
Leaving the brownstone house, Harry drove his coupe to the nearest drug store. He hurried into a telephone booth and called a number. The quiet response over the wire was reassuring to The Shadow’s agent.
“Burbank speaking,” came the tone.
“Vincent reporting,” informed Harry.
With no further delay, Harry gave a terse report of his interview with Terry Barliss. He told why his friend was going to Wendel Hargate’s. Burbank, receiving the information quickly but methodically, gave the order to stand by.
Harry hung up the receiver and strolled about. Through the window of the drug store, he saw a taxicab turn into the street where Terry Barliss lived. Harry was sure that Terry had summoned the cab to take him to Hargate’s.
The nervousness that Harry felt was ended suddenly as the bell rang in the phone booth. Harry had given Burbank the return number. He sprang to the receiver and again talked with Burbank.
“Return to Metrolite Hotel,” ordered Burbank. “Await new instructions there.”
Harry was smiling as he left the drug store. He knew the meaning of Burbank’s message. Harry’s information had been relayed to The Shadow. There was no need for Harry to trail Terry to Hargate’s — no need for any worry.
The Shadow, himself, was taking up the work. Terry Barliss would be well protected in this emergency. Harry had a feeling that the meeting between Terry and Hargate would produce valuable results that The Shadow would turn to complete advantage.
Harry Vincent had implicit confidence in The Shadow. He had seen his black-garbed master gain victorious fights against overwhelming odds. Tonight’s episode — so Harry thought — would be a simple affair for The Shadow.
Where The Shadow was concerned, Harry Vincent made no allowance for mischance, for The Shadow’s power seemed sufficient to override freaks of fate.
Yet on this occasion, Harry Vincent’s promptness had paved the way to a double climax. Once again, The Shadow was faring forth on a quest that held the danger of the unexpected.
CHAPTER XV
AT HARGATE’S
WENDEL HARGATE was in his study. This room on the second floor of the millionaire’s home, was located near the rear of the house. Two narrow windows, at the side, were set in alcoves. They were unshaded, for projecting walls made the interior of the room obscure from without.
Wendel Hargate was alone. The heavy safe in the corner, the large door that formed the chief entrance to the room and the smaller door that led to the library — these were tokens that made the place appear somewhat in the manner of a citadel.
The front door of the room had a round opening in the center. This was evidently a loophole, yet it was so cunningly fashioned that even a close observer would not have detected it. Terry Barliss and his companions had not noticed the movable opening on the occasion of their recent visit.
Wendel Hargate was going over papers that lay upon his desk. His face wore a habitual scowl. His large mustache seemed to bristle.
Suddenly, the millionaire looked up. He arose and approached the door with long, heavy stride. He swished the loophole open, peered through, then closed the aperture. He opened the door.
In stepped Thibbel, the millionaire’s servant. The hard-faced man looked grim tonight. He followed Hargate across the room and stood beyond the desk while the millionaire seated himself. Behind the closed, door, these two were going into conference.
“What about the watchmen?” questioned Hargate.
“They’re posted,” returned Thibbel. “Keeping along the side of the house.”
Hargate arose from his chair and strode to one of the alcoves. He raised the window and looked down into darkness. He caught sight of a stocky figure patrolling through the gloom of a narrow alleyway.
“All right,” decided Hargate, as he returned to his desk, after leaving the window open. “They’re on the job. Wait around until I’m through with these papers. I want to talk with you.”
Hargate’s inspection had evidently satisfied him that all was well outside. Yet in his glance from the window, the millionaire had failed to see a figure that would have attracted his immediate notice had he observed it.
CLINGING to the wall, a dozen feet above the alleyway, was a form that seemed like a batlike creature of inky hue. A spectral shape that might have been a clumpish chunk of solid night, this figure had been waiting until the patrolling watchman passed.
When no one was any longer below; when Hargate was no longer peering from above, the strange creature moved. A squdgy sound denoted its upward passage. The noise, however, was guarded and scarcely audible.
The Shadow had arrived outside of Hargate’s mansion. A weird phantom of the night, he was scaling the wall of the millionaire’s home. His hands and feet were equipped with rubber suction cups. Each pressure fastened these large disks against the surface of the wall. Each deft twist removed them at alternate intervals. Like a mammoth insect, The Shadow was crawling to an observation point.
The Shadow reached the window that Hargate had opened. Here he found purchase for his hands and feet. The rubber suction cups slid beneath the cloak that The Shadow wore. Keen, burning eyes appeared at the window.
The Shadow could see the profile of Wendel Hargate. Thibbel was standing with his back toward the open window. Watchful, yet unseen, The Shadow was able to overhear the conversation which was just beginning between these two.
“You’re sure,” Hargate was saying, “that those two watchers know nothing about Sooky Downing?”
“Not a chance,” returned Thibbel. “They’re tough babies, but they aren’t mobsters.”
“Good,” decided Hargate. “We took too long a chance before, Thibbel.”
“I know it right enough,” affirmed the hard-faced servant.
Hargate growled a laugh.
“You ought to know it, Thibbel,” said the millionaire. “It’s lucky that Sooky was killed in the fight. They might have traced the negotiations that you held with him. These gang leaders have their own code; they never squeal on a pal. At the same time, you took the mob into trouble; and, after all, you do not rate as a member of the underworld.”
“They made the trouble themselves,” asserted Thibbel. “I told them to keep the guns out of sight. They didn’t have to open fire so quick when they trapped that fellow and he shot the flashlight. Just the same — when the fun began, they went through with it. They got theirs.”
“All except you.”
“Well, I was wise. I dived toward the door of Salwood’s office, like I told you. After the firing was all over, I did a sneak. The dumb detective nearly plugged me, though, when I was making my get-away through the window.”
“You’re sure he didn’t recognize you?”
“I don’t think he did.”
Hargate tapped the desk roughly. He was thinking over Thibbel’s last statement.
“I’ll tell you, Thibbel,” he declared. “If Cardona ever tracks you through Sooky, you’ll have to leave the city in a hurry. That’s why I have these watchmen here. We never can tell what may happen.
“I’m within my rights. Particularly since I’ve been robbed. Naturally, I want to keep the place guarded” — Hargate chuckled as he spoke — “and these fellows will pass muster. You’ll have a chance to hurry away if Cardona shows up.