VINCENT RECEIVES A MESSAGE
EVENTS had moved slowly at Frank Marmosa’s place since that exciting night when Monk Thurman had appeared there. Harry Vincent was now accustomed to the routine of the gambling den, and he performed his duties with a precision that brought the commendation of Frank Marmosa.
Yet Harry had as yet divined no purpose in his work. He knew that he had been installed in this place through the action of The Shadow; but so far he had received no instructions from his mysterious chief.
In times gone by, Harry had looked to Claude Fellows for contact. He knew little of The Shadow’s organization beyond the insurance broker. Now he realized that he must either receive orders directly from The Shadow, or through some other agent.
So far, Harry knew of nothing which had been accomplished. He had not heard of the episode in the death car, the night that the gangsters had failed in their efforts to murder Morris Clarendon.
He had no idea that only the night before, The Shadow had met Nick Savoli face to face.
Living at the Goliath Hotel, Harry had heard of the peace dinner, but he had not been in the building when it had taken place.
He read the papers avidly, and found the reports meager and the suppositions great. The morning following, Harry had checked out of the Goliath Hotel. He did this, not because it was a spot chosen by gangsters, but because he found more suitable quarters at a smaller hotel, as close to Marmosa’s Cafe.
Harry had been unable to notify The Shadow that he was staying at the Goliath, so there was apparently no reason why he should not change his abode.
There was only one thing which Harry Vincent disliked; that was the continued presence of Steve Cronin. The gangster was usually stationed outside of the gambling den; hence Harry seldom came in contact with him.
He avoided Cronin as much as possible. They had met once before — it seemed a long time ago, now — and there was danger that Steve Cronin might recognize him.
Hence to Harry, Steve Cronin was more of a menace than were John Genara and Tony Anelmo.
The Homicide Twins had no knowledge of Harry’s identity. They simply regarded him as the inside man in Marmosa’s joint.
TONIGHT, while seated at the table on the balcony, Harry saw Steve Cronin enter. It was Cronin’s duty to occupy that table; so Harry calmly rose, and made his departure before the gunman arrived.
He went into the gambling room, where Genara and Anelmo were already present. There the bartender raised a beckoning finger.
“Letter for you, Harry,” he said. “Marmosa told me to give it to you.”
Harry received the envelope. He realized then that he had made a mistake. He had forgotten to leave a forwarding address at the Goliath Hotel.
The clerk knew he was employed at Marmosa’s Cafe. Hence the letter — simply an envelope which had been left at the desk — was here. Fortunately, it had not been opened.
Harry took it from the bartender and thrust it carelessly into his pocket.
He found an opportunity to leave the gambling den, and went to the balcony. Steve Cronin had temporarily left his post.
Harry opened the envelope, and withdrew the letter. It was inscribed in a simple code, consisting of a few letter substitutions. Harry could read the letter instantly.
“Watch Genara and Anelmo,” said the note. “Report any move they may make.”
There was no signature. Simply a telephone number, which Harry immediately committed to memory.
The note came either from The Shadow, or from some unknown agent of that mysterious man. As Harry sat at a table on the balcony, inscribing the telephone number in his mind, he glanced once more at the note.
The writing had faded away completely. He now held a blank sheet of paper in his hand. That was the way with messages that had The Shadow as their source. They faded into nothingness as soon as they had been read, thanks to a secret preparation of disappearing ink.
Harry returned to the gambling room. Before he reached the door, he crumpled the note into a ball, and tossed it in the corner. No danger of any one reading it.
He kept the envelope in his pocket, intending to tear it up later. Yet it meant nothing, for it carried only his name.
But as the sliding panel closed behind the form of Harry Vincent, a man arose from an obscure corner of the balcony. It was Steve Cronin.
He had seen Harry read the letter. He was anxious to know what the note said. He picked up the crumpled ball of paper and studied it intently. When he observed that it was blank, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.
He lighted a match, and ran it under the paper; for he suspected an invisible ink, and knew that heat might bring it out. This was to no avail.
The gangster went back to his table at the head of the stairs, and again looked at the blank paper.
SUDDENLY a light dawned upon the puzzled gangster. A sharp exclamation escaped his lips. The message revealed nothing, but that very fact gave him a clew.
Steve Cronin had suspected that Harry Vincent was not an ordinary watcher in a gambling joint. Now he knew it! He had seen Harry read the message. That fact was significant.
“He’s no ordinary dub,” observed Cronin softly, “and neither is the guy that sent this letter. Who would write stuff that would go away, quick, like this? I know who would do it — The Shadow!”
He whistled as he looked toward the entrance to the gambling den. Until this moment, Steve Cronin had suspected no connection between Harry Vincent and The Shadow.
Now he recalled that his previous meeting with Harry had preceded an encounter with The Shadow. The two episodes were links with the past.
“I remember meetin’ this guy,” said Cronin, half aloud, “and I remember meeting The Shadow. Maybe they’re working together!
“If they are — well, it’s worth a chance. Watch this guy, and maybe The Shadow will show up!”
He entered a telephone booth on the balcony, and called Mike Borrango. He immediately told the enforcer what he suspected, and what he intended to do. Borrango expressed approval.
Steve went back to the table and waited there a while. He saw Genara and Anelmo come from the gambling room.
Scarcely had the Homicide Twins left the restaurant, before Harry Vincent appeared. He walked past Steve Cronin without a word, and the gangster feigned indifference. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry enter the telephone booth, and make a call.
When the young man had returned to the gambling room, Steve, himself, made use of the booth. He sent another call to Borrango.
“It’s Cronin, again,” he said, when he heard the voice of the enforcer.
“What is it, Steve?” questioned Borrango.
“This fellow called Vincent. He just made a phone call.”
“Who to?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?” Borrango’s voice sounded impatiently. “Why call me, if you know nothing?”
Steve realized he must tell Borrango something of importance, and in his quick quest for a theory, he struck upon a plausible one.
“Vincent came out here just after Genara and Anelmo left,” said Steve. “He was watching them. I think he was giving some one a tip-off that they had gone.”
“What do you think that means?”
“Maybe The Shadow is watching Genara and Anelmo.”
“If he is — ” The enforcer’s voice broke off suddenly. Then he resumed, giving definite instructions.
“You watch this fellow Vincent, Steve.”
After his talk with Steve Cronin, Mike Borrango reported what he had learned to Nick Savoli. The big shot listened carefully. He weighed Borrango’s words; then looked at the enforcer, as though questioning what he intended to do. That was Savoli’s way. He let Borrango speak his piece; then decided.
“Cronin may be wrong on this,” said the enforcer, “but I think he has found something. I’m going to call Frank Marmosa, and learn all he knows.”
AFTER a conversation by telephone with Marmosa, Mike Borrango was elated. He hung up the receiver and turned to his chief.
“Vincent is from New York,” he announced. “Borrango got him through a fellow named Barutti — a man who runs an Italian restaurant there.
“Vincent came to town just before this trouble started. He isn’t a gangster. He’s just the type man that would be used by this gentleman crook called The Shadow.”
Nick Savoli nodded.
“Perhaps,” suggested Borrango, “he may be The Shadow. The fellow has to stay somewhere — “
“We can check on that easily enough,” answered Savoli. “Marmosa can tell us where Vincent has been during the past few nights. But I do not think he is The Shadow.”
“He appears to be watching Genara and Anelmo.”
“Yes. He’s watching them for The Shadow. He is so open in his methods that he can suspect nothing. Very well. We will deal with him to-morrow night,” said Savoli.
“You mean — “
“Let Genara and Anelmo take him.”
“I shall speak to them to-morrow,” said Borrango. “But how about our other man — Monk Thurman?”
Savoli shook his head.
“Let him work in his own way,” he said. “He would not work well with Genara and Anelmo. If Monk comes here, hold him in readiness. That is all.”
“And Steve Cronin?”
“Leave him out of it. He has done his share. Tell our two Sicilians to do a neat job. Fix it with Marmosa, so Vincent will suspect nothing.”
“Right,” agreed the enforcer.
“But remember this,” added the big shot, “Genara and Anelmo must not act too quickly. Let them report here by telephone after they have captured their man.”
“I understand,” said Mike Borrango.
The enforcer’s words concluded the discussion.
After Borrango had departed, Nick Savoli indulged in a grim smile. He plucked his chewed cigar from his mouth, and threw it from the half-opened window.
“To-morrow night,” he muttered, in a satisfied tone. “To-morrow night, we will strike.”
The big shot seemed sure that his henchmen would be capable of swinging a powerful counterstroke against that mysterious being who called himself The Shadow.