BRIGGS opened the front door of the Galvin mansion. He recognized the man who was standing on the steps. It was Harry Vincent.
“Hello,” said Harry. “Is Mr. Galvin at home?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Briggs, promptly, “but he is not feeling well, sir. Didn’t you get my master’s message at the Astorbilt?”
“No.”
Briggs feigned surprise.
“It was a little while after you left,” he said. “Mr. — er — Mr. Galvin had a sudden attack of dizziness. He called in a doctor, who told him to go to bed and rest. So he called up the Astorbilt and left word for you to — er — to call him to-morrow.”
“I didn’t receive the message,” said Harry, quietly.
He knew that Briggs was lying; at the same time, Harry was making a pretense. He was giving the impression that he had been waiting a long while at the Astorbilt.
As a matter of fact, he had been watching this very front door for the past three hours. He had returned to his post after having cleverly trailed Briggs to Brindle’s Cafe, and had remained outside the restaurant until Moose Shargin and Garry Elvers had appeared.
Harry had not recognized the gangsters. They had not known him. But a man walking close behind them had given Harry a quick signal which meant he was no longer needed.