NOT long afterward, George Clarendon appeared at the Hotel Thermon. He inquired for the key to Room 1128 — the room next to the one occupied by Thaddeus Westcott, which was 1124.
Clarendon did not go upstairs immediately. He stopped to glance at the shipping page of a morning newspaper. His keen eyes noted that the steamship Balvaro was due from South America at noon.
Clarendon tossed the newspaper in a wastebasket and went to the elevator.
Five minutes afterward, the telephone buzzed in Room 1122. A quiet-faced man arose from a desk and answered it. He recognized the voice that came over the wire.
“Hello, Burbank,” it said. “All right?”
“Yes,” replied the quiet-faced man.
“I just came in,” said the voice in a low tone. “I thought I’d call to see if you were still up.”
“I’m going to bed now,” replied Burbank.
“All right, I’ll call you to-morrow.”
Burbank laid down the telephone and turned out the light. He had been on watch, in this room reserved for him, while The Shadow had been engaged on other enterprises. His brief comment had indicated that no one had disturbed the repose of Thaddeus Westcott.