Douglas Carleton was the name of the 'silk hat,' and Carleton was much closer to Zubian than he was to Hackett. In the maze of crime that Douglas Carleton was now sponsoring, Felix Zubian would eventually take a role far beyond that played by Gats Hackett. For Zubian was a crook of international repute, while Gats was merely a minor gang leader in New York.
Zubian's face took on an inscrutable expression. Gats Hackett studied his visitor narrowly.
In some ways, Gats felt an animosity toward this supercrook whom he recognized as above his plane; at the same time, Gats, because of his unwilling sense of inferiority, was forced to show respect to this man who had but recently arrived in America.
Whenever Gats was puzzled, he took another drink, so he performed the action at this time, after offering liquor to Felix Zubian, who declined it. Minutes of silence went by; then came a low but sharp rap at the door. Gats hastened to answer it.
The man who entered was a strange, leering fellow, whose fanglike teeth showed in a perpetual grin.
Felix Zubian had never seen him before, but he knew that this must be 'Squint' Freston. The beady eyes that shone from a sallow, drawn face proved the origin of the gangster's nickname.
In his hand, Squint held a blackjack. He had used this instrument to tap the door in the peculiar fashion that meant a welcome visitor awaited without.
Seeing Zubian, Squint made no comment. He looked toward Gats, who nodded. That was sufficient. It meant that Zubian was in the know.
'Hello, Gats,' began Squint, in a snarling voice. 'I had the right lay. Trailed that bozo like I said I would.
There ain't no doubt about it— Vincent's workin' for The Shadow.'
'Well?' demanded Gats impatiently. 'Who's The Shadow?'
Squint's fangy teeth parted in a surprised gape. Then his small, thin frame shook convulsively, as he broke into a muffed guffaw.
'Say, Gats,' he questioned derisively, 'wotta you expect of a guy? Think I'm goin' to walk right in and find The Shadow just because I'm trailin' one of his stools? You ain't gone loony, have you, Gats? I got some good dope for you, right enough, but I ain't seen The Shadow.'
GATS, evidently grouchy from the effects of the liquor, uttered a vague reply. After that, he said nothing; he merely waited to learn what Squint might have to say.
'I trailed Vincent,' declared the little gangster. 'Trailed him right. Picked him up outside of the hotel, after Cardona had let him go. Followed him neat, Gats, down to a building on Broadway. Up the elevator, without him noticin' me. He went to 2121.'
'And after that?'
'He came out again. That's the last I seen of him.'
'What's the idea?' growled Gats. 'You let him slide away?'
'I did—nix!' leered Squint, with a shrewd chuckle. 'I ain't that dumb, Gats. I got a guy with me. One of the gang stayin' outside the Grandville Building. That fellow took care of Vincent. Trailed him back to this hotel. That's where he is now. I waited at the Grandville Building.'
'What happened there?'
'A guy come out—another guy—a fat-faced dude. Silly sort of a bird, one of those that would start to bawl if you shoved a rod against his ribs. So I trail Fatty. That's where I was wise.'
'Who was he?'
'Rutledge Mann is his moniker. The guy that runs the office. Sells stocks. I figured who he was when I seen him, an' I found out later who he was.
'He goes down in the elevator with me after him, an' I trail him down to Twenty-third Street. There he goes into a dumpy old building. I knows somethin' was up as soon as I sees that. No white-shirt like this bimbo is goin' down there to see Mr. Astorbilt.'
'Did you follow him into the building?' Gats asked.
'Sure thing. I watch him from the bottom of the stairs. I see him takin' a couple of envelopes from his pocket. One looks like the one we planted on Dobie. I ain't close enough to see for sure. Then I starts up the stairs, but I have to do a duck. This Mann guy is comin' out again.'
'That quick?'
'Yeah. But he ain't got the envelopes in his mitt. That wises me up. He's left 'em some place in the buildin'. I snoop around a bit down there, later on, but I ain't been able to figure just where he went. All I know is that this guy Mann has dumped the dokaments somewhere in that joint.'
'Which means?'
'That The Shadow has a hideout there!' concluded Squint.
'Yeah?' questioned Gats, in an angry tone. 'Well, why didn't you locate the hideout?'
'Gimme time, Gats—gimme time!' Squint came back. 'I had two more of the gang on my trail when I followed this Mann gazebo. They've been watchin' there ever since, reportin' to me all along. They ain't seen no one suspiciouslike goin' in or out.
'But that don't mean The Shadow ain't been there. I've got the boys layin' mighty low, you can bet. I don't want The Shadow to see 'em— an' I ain't sure they're goin' to see The Shadow, now that it's night.'
'Looks like you've flopped on the job, Squint,' growled Gats, pouring himself another drink. 'Thought you'd do a better piece of work than that.'
'I ain't flopped,' responded Squint. 'I'm goin' back there to keep watch myself. The Shadow ain't goin'
to see me. I ain't sayin' I'm goin' to see him, neither, but I'm goin' to be lookin'.'
With that, the little gangster stalked from the room, leaving Gats Hackett alone with Felix Zubian.
'THAT'S the way to handle Squint,' Gats said. 'Make it look like you're not satisfied. That's when he works right. Did you hear the way I talked? Complained, didn't I? Well, I've got nothing to complain about.'
'You are satisfied with what he has done?'
'Sure—for a starter. I didn't expect Squint to find The Shadow at the end of the trail. I only wanted to be sure that the message would get to The Shadow to-night. It looks like it has. Squint may not see him get it, but he'll get it all right.'
Gats ended his statement with a chuckle. He glanced at his watch and nodded with satisfaction.
'Early yet,' he declared. 'Plenty of time. Sorry you can't be with me to-night, Zubian, but you'll hear all about it. Carleton says you're just looking on right now, but that we're to keep you posted on everything.
Well, you're posted now. To-morrow -'
Gats shrugged his shoulders and laughed. He appeared confident.
Felix Zubian arose calmly, shook hands with the gang leader, and made his departure.
Gats Hackett chuckled when his visitor had gone. From a suitcase, the gang leader removed two large revolvers and fondled them lovingly. It was from these powerful weapons that he had gained his name.
His ability with the rods had long been recognized throughout the underworld.
Gats packed the guns under his arms and emitted an ugly laugh. Thus equipped with weapons, the gang leader stood in the center of the room, and placed his hands upon the shooting rods beneath his coat.
'The Shadow!' Gats spoke the name in a low, contemptuous tone. 'The guy that looks for trouble.
Well—maybe he'll get it from these to-night. From these—unless he gets it before.'
Gats leered in silence. His evil face expressed satisfaction. To him, the delivery of the mysterious message was the sure forerunner of The Shadow's doom.
CHAPTER IV. THE MESSAGE
HALF an hour after his departure from Gats Hackett's room, Squint Freston arrived across the street from the old building on Twenty-third Street. He stopped beside a flight of low steps that led to the basement of a house, and uttered a low, significant whisper. This received a similar reply.
Squint descended the steps and joined his watching comrades. He questioned them in a cautious tone.
Neither of the two men stationed there had seen any one enter or leave the black-fronted building across the way.
With careful instructions, Squint ordered each of the men to leave his present post. They obeyed, and one walked in each direction. Squint watched them shamble across the street and station themselves in obscure spots,
