“What if The Shadow does prowl around here?” Briggs insisted. “He can’t find out what we found out. Only two people got the dope on this place — Clink and I. Clink’s out now, and so is the guy that talked to us. I’m not blabbing to any one!”
“We’re safe enough,” agreed Bob. “At the same time, don’t forget that four people have found this place unhealthy” — his voice became an undertone — “and only one of them is still alive!”
“It would be better if he was rubbed out, too!”
“No. The Chief may have use for him later on. By the way, Briggs, did any mail come in?”
The big man nodded. He opened a desk drawer and produced a letter which bore a South African stamp. Bob tore it open and read the contents. He put the letter back in the envelope and thrust it in his pocket.
“The Chief will want this,” he said, shortly.
He left the room, Briggs remained alone, reading the newspaper.
It was half an hour later when Bob reappeared. He was attired in a dinner jacket. Over his arm was an overcoat, and he carried a hat and cane.
“Remember, Briggs,” he said. “Keep on the lookout!”
WITH that final admonition, Bob was gone. He stepped from the front door, alone, and stood looking shrewdly up and down the street. No taxis were in sight, so he strolled leisurely along to the nearest avenue, swinging his cane as he walked.