That was the train of thought passing through Carpenter’s mind as he neared Room 850, at the end of a long, dim corridor.
With Carpenter, crime had been a profession. He had shown no regard for those who had been his dupes; at the same time, he had always played fair, in his own twisted way, with his associates in crime.
Now, he had crossed the fence. He would play fair there, too. He was working for The Shadow, obedient to all commands, despite the inexorable judgment of the mysterious being in black — the judgment that meant Carpenter’s return to prison walls.
As he opened to door to Room 850, Carpenter failed to notice a huge, broad patch of black that stretched along the floor from the end of the corridor. He did not even glance in that direction, where two burning eyes gleamed from the blackness of the wall.
The Shadow was watching!
HERBERT CARPENTER entered the darkened room. He closed the door behind him. He softly opened the window and crouched upon the balcony. He could see the light from 848, and observed, from an angle, that the window of the adjoining room was also open, but he was too cautious to advance closer.
A long, tedious wait. A distant clock struck nine. A few minutes later, Carpenter heard sounds from the adjoining room. Voices were talking near the window. Hooks Borglund and Shifter Reeves were conversing!
“All set, Hooks?” questioned Shifter.
“Right, Shifter,” replied Hooks. “How about the pier? Everything ready down there?”
“You bet. I’ve got the boat in the submarine elevator. All set to go. We used to bring stuff in by that route. We’ll use it for a getaway tonight.”