“He ain’t been blabbin’ where his hideout is?” came a question.
“That’s just what de guy has been doin’,” said the first voice. “Briggs must be dopey, because it ain’t no phony steer, neither. You know de old hockshop — de one dat Moose Glutz used to run? Dat’s where he is.”
“Where? Upstairs?”
“No. Down in de basement. Moose used to use de place for a storage joint. No windows — nothin’ but a door. It’s a good place for a hideout; but it ain’t sensible to give away his lay like that!”
“Mebbe he’s got his own reasons,” said the one gangster.
Harry recognized the location. “Moose” Glutz’s pawnshop had been closed for several months. So that was where Homer Briggs was hiding!
That was all Harry needed to know. There was no necessity of following the man when he left.
Homer took another drink, then waved good-by to two acquaintances, and hurried from the dive.
It was obvious that he was bound back to his hideout.
Harry waited. He was willing to bide his time, now. The information must go to The Shadow as soon as possible, but there was no reason to excite suspicion.