A sudden inspiration came to Harry. Here might be a chance to save The Shadow!
He rubbed his hand over his forehead as though recalling something.
“I think I know why they grabbed me!” he exclaimed. “They were talking when I bumped into them. I heard them say something about putting a fellow on the spot — tonight—”
“Where?” came the eager question.
“Glutz — something,” said Harry. “I remember now. Glutz’s hockshop. Did you ever hear of it?”
“No,” said the man, “but maybe the police have.”
He was gone for the telephone. Harry sank back, dizzy. His head was swimming. His shoulder pained.
He was incapable of action, and it would be impossible to communicate with Burbank. He had done the next best thing. If a squad of police arrived at the pawnshop, the mobsters would fade away.
Harry leaned his head sideways upon the pillow and half opened his eyes. A slight smile had been forming on his lips.
It disappeared now. A clock on the wall showed that it was more than an hour since he had left the Black Ship.