VINCENT GOES ON DUTY
TEN o’clock in the morning. The phone bell rang beside Harry Vincent’s bed. Harry yawned as he answered it.
He had only awakened a few minutes before. Living in New York, at the Hotel Metrolite, he was accustomed to retiring late at night and rising late in the morning.
“Messenger just brought a message for you, Mr. Vincent,” came the voice over the phone.
“Send it up,” replied Harry.
He hurriedly donned bath robe and slippers while he awaited the message. Harry knew what the note would mean. New action — new work — in behalf of the mysterious Shadow.
For Harry Vincent was a young man who had experienced many adventures. He had one occupation in life: to do The Shadow’s bidding.
He lived a life of leisure, well supplied with money that came from an unknown source; but on occasion his idleness was interrupted by orders from The Shadow.
Then it was his duty to respond; to face unforeseen dangers; to aid The Shadow in his activities.
Who was The Shadow?
Harry Vincent did not know.
Time and again the hand of The Shadow had intervened to save him from danger or death. He had seen The Shadow in disguise; he had seen him as a tall, black-clad figure that appeared and vanished in the darkness of night; but he had never seen The Shadow’s own face.
A bell boy arrived with the message. Harry dismissed the attendant; then he opened the envelope, and scanned the sheet of paper that it contained.
The letter was written in a simple code, known to Harry Vincent. By a form of letter substitution, Harry read it rapidly.
Watch Stanley Berger. If he meets any one, trail the man he meets. Your work is to discover his associates or those who are interested in his affairs.
The note was unsigned. Harry suspected that it had come from Claude Fellows. But the instructions were from The Shadow himself.
The writing began to fade while Harry was still staring at the paper. A few seconds later, the sheet was blank!
STANLEY BERGER! The name alone was sufficient. Harry Vincent had read the details of Jonathan Graham’s death.
Like the police, he had regarded it simply as an unfortunate accident. Even now, it did not dawn on him that Berger might have been responsible for the millionaire’s death.
Why did The Shadow desire information regarding Stanley Berger and his associates? That question was unanswered.
After all, it made no difference to Harry Vincent. His work was to watch Berger, and he must begin at once.
Harry dressed rapidly, and hurried down to the lobby. He ate a hasty breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Then he consulted a telephone book, and learned Berger’s address.
He rode uptown in the subway, and found the place an old-fashioned apartment house. He located Berger’s apartment. It was on the second floor, in a front corner of the building.
Harry went to a corner drug store, and called Berger’s number. It would be easy enough to pretend that he had made a mistake, when Berger answered the phone. But there was no response.
Evidently Stanley Berger was not at home. So Harry lingered in the vicinity, while the day went by.
Working for The Shadow demanded patience. Long waits were not infrequent, but they were usually followed by moments of rapid action.
There was a hotel near the apartment house. Harry went there for lunch. In the lobby, he read the evening paper.
The death of Jonathan Graham now commanded very little space. This was the second day since the millionaire importer had plunged to doom from the window of his office in the Farworth Building. Suicide was the accepted verdict.
Harry called Stanley Berger’s number three times during the afternoon. He received no answer.
But at five o’clock, while he was walking past the apartment house, Harry noticed a young man enter the building. Believing that it was Berger, he watched the second-story windows. He saw a hand adjust one of the shades.
A light appeared in the apartment, later on. Harry maintained his vigil until seven o’clock, carefully watching all who entered the apartment house.
At seven o’clock, the light went out. Harry waited until his man emerged from the door of the apartment house. Then he followed, at a considerable distance.
Stanley Berger went to the same hotel where Harry had had luncheon. The man went in alone, and entered the dining room. Harry followed.
Berger ordered diner; and Harry did the same. He was careful not to attract the notice of the man whom he was following.
IT was nearly eight o’clock, when Berger, apparently unsuspecting, left the hotel. Harry trailed him, half a block behind. Then he noticed something of interest.
Another man appeared to be on Berger’s trail, also.
The newcomer attracted Harry’s attention very suddenly. He was only a few paces behind Stanley Berger.
Stanley Berger entered the subway. An express came along, and the three men entered the same car. From the corner of his eye, Harry observed both of the others.
Stanley Berger was a young man of quiet, unassuming appearance. His face seemed moody and meditative. He was well dressed, and his features were intelligent.
The other man was middle-aged. He had a somewhat rough appearance. His clothes were worn; his face was poorly shaven. His eyes were wandering, but keen; and Harry watched them as they became fixed momentarily upon Stanley Berger.
Harry entertained doubts that the man was actually following Berger, until the train stopped at a transfer station. Then Berger left the car, and the rough-looking man followed.
Harry went along, and a few minutes later, the three were gathered together in a crowded car of a downtown local.
Every advantage was in Harry’s favor. Berger, thoughtful, and apparently moody, was paying no attention whatever to those about him. The other man was watching Berger intently.
Harry smiled quietly in anticipation of what might occur.
When Stanley Berger left the car, the other man was close behind. Harry kept a reasonable distance in the rear, and had no difficulty whatever in keeping sight of both men while they made their way along a side street to Broadway.
Stanley Berger stopped at a theater. He called for a ticket which had evidently been reserved, and entered.
The other man did not follow. He pretended to be looking at the photographs displayed in the lobby. Harry did the same.
He felt sure that Berger was going to see the show. His trail could be picked up afterward.
Right now, it was most important to watch this man who seemed to be so interested in Berger’s actions.
THE roughly-clad individual evidently had the same thoughts as Harry, so far as Berger was concerned. He left the theater lobby, and walked about uncertainly for a few minutes.
Then he fumbled in his pocket, and counted out some money. After this procedure, he walked up to a standing cab.
Harry heard the address that the man gave to the driver. After the cab pulled away, Harry hailed another taxi, and gave the same destination.
The cab rolled along side streets. Harry noted that they were reaching a district where the houses were old and dilapidated.
They were approaching that section of New York where gangsters convene; and Harry recognized places where he had been on previous missions for The Shadow.
Apparently, some one connected with the underworld was interested in what Stanley Berger was doing. Harry was eager to reach his destination; for he foresaw a meeting of those who were on Berger’s trail.
The cab came to a stop, and Harry alighted. He paid the driver, and looked about him.
There were lights in the second story of the old building before which he stood. The upper floor was reached by a stairway that showed in a dimly lighted entrance. Over the door was a sign: “The Pink Rat.”
Harry Vincent had heard of the place. He was not familiar with the dens frequented by gangsters, but he knew of this one. It was open to the public; but few persons other than the denizens of gangland entered it. He was positive that this was where the unknown man had gone.
Yet Harry hesitated before entering. He tried to formulate some plan; then decided that it would be best to trust to chance. Two men came along the street, and entered the doorway.
Harry Vincent followed them up the stairs to the Pink Rat.