“I think he has, by this time. He traced back to find out what Eddie Heeny was doing, the day before he was killed. I think he’s located the man that introduced Monk Thurman to Heeny.”
Both men were silent for a few moments. Savoli chewed on his cigar; Borrango still leaned against the bookcase.
“The Shadow,” said Borrango softly. “What do you think of Cronin’s story?”
“It’s straight,” commented Savoli. “That fellow Cronin has nerve, even though he does bluster.”
“You are right. Yet he weakened when he talked about The Shadow. Why do you think The Shadow is here?”
“I do not know. We must learn more about him. We must prepare to meet him. We have dealt with the police. We can handle the mobs. But this Shadow — what is he?”
The telephone bell rang in the corner. Mike Borrango answered it, and a trace of interest lightened his face. He began to speak in Italian, and Nick Savoli listened intently to the enforcer’s words.
“It is you, Vacchi?” questioned Borrango. “What — now? Good! Right away. We are waiting. Send him here at once.”
He laid down the telephone.
“Al Vacchi has located Monk Thurman,” he said. “He is sending him up here right away. Perhaps — ” he became suddenly thoughtful.