Gorman went to the telephone. He clicked for the hotel operator. Gifford Morton chuckled with satisfaction.
Herbert Carpenter waited patiently. He had the air of a man who expected something to happen.
CHAPTER IX
TABLES TURN
A MAN was seated in the lobby of the Hotel Pavilion, close by the window where the telephone operator was located. Despite his correct attire, this individual’s face betrayed the fact that he was other than a gentleman.
Yet that did not bar him from these premises. Money was the one standard of admittance to this luxurious hotel. No one questioned the presence of Hooks Borglund.
This harsh-faced crime master was not the only person in the lobby who bore the marks of the underworld. Among the many guests were several others of his ilk. They were sitting quietly in lobby chairs, apparently ill at ease, others indifferent to their surroundings.
Hooks Borglund cast a cagey glance toward a stranger who entered the lobby. The newcomer was tall and calm-faced. He walked in leisurely fashion, with his hands in his coat pockets. Borglund’s ears pricked as he fancied that he heard the jingle of metal. The sound ended in a short click.
The advancing figure stared coldly toward Hooks Borglund, and the crook’s eyes met the piercing gaze of Lamont Cranston. Neither showed any sign of recognition. Cranston continued on his way, while Borglund wondered.
Possessed of intuitive shrewdness, Hooks sensed that some mystery surrounded the person who had just entered. He watched Cranston go toward the elevator.