“How would we figure him in this place? That mug of his is all right behind a mask or under the front of a big cap. But if he ever had to show it—”
“You’re right,” admitted Briggs sheepishly. “He’s a good guy, Clink is, but he looks bad.”
“He doesn’t belong here, that’s a bet,” Bob added. “You’re all right, Briggs. As good as the average servant, I guess. But Clink — well, he’s out; that’s all.”
“I hope The Shadow is out,” observed Briggs.
“He is, all right,” said Bob, “but we’re playing it safe. That’s why you and Clink have the job tonight. The Chief and I are laying low.
“We’re playing a safe game, all right. Every one knows that old Galvin’s estate is blooey. No chance of anybody working a phony game like mine just to grab off this joint and a cheesy old country house.
“Old man Galvin sure fooled them! Came near fooling us, too! It took the Chief to get wise to him.”
There was a ring of the doorbell. Briggs grinned as he arose to answer it. He returned shortly with the visitor — a man with a dark overcoat, his chin concealed behind its collar. He also wore a cap with the visor over his eyes.
It was the man who had walked out with Bob Galvin, the night before Hodgson had begun to suspect his new master. The man entered the room with the air of a familiar visitor.
“Hello, Clink,” said Bob.