This man kept on sidling out between the scrubby units of a hedgerow that had been badly planted and therefore had not become the impassable affair which it had been designed to be.
If this man happened to be Older, he wasn’t expecting his friend to be waiting in a car. Across the sward from the Lookout Cafe was a hansom cab, halted just off a drive, as though to rent its horse. The man from the dining terrace moved stealthily toward the hack, though stealth was hardly necessary.
It was very dark across the greensward, even at the spot where the hansom was located. The tall vehicle showed only in silhouetted form, like a misshapen haystack. From the cafe came the final amplified announcement:
“Mr. Older, your friend is waiting outside -”
Music took over and all was as before at the Lookout Cafe, at least within the restaurant proper. Outside, however, figures were moving in from different angles and a taxicab wheeled suddenly between two gates to haul over by the parked cars.
There was a coupe waiting in front of the main building forming the cafe and there was enough light to show the bright blue paint job that embellished it. The driver was leaning out and he gave a friendly wave to a tall man whose chin was muffled in an upturned raincoat.
The tall man was coming from the cafe and he was starting to put his hat on. The bright light glistened on his bald head, showing it quite plainly. Then he was in the coupe and it was driving away.
One of the arriving figures hopped into the taxicab and it followed the blue coupe. As both vehicles crunched the gravel out between the gates, the rest of the arriving figures met to hold a conference.
There were three, all agents of The Shadow. One was Harry Vincent, ace of The Shadow’s workers; another, Clyde Burke, a reporter for the New York Classic during his off hours; the third was Hawkeye, a wizened little man who was second only to The Shadow when it came to sticking to a trail.
Only Hawkeye had no trail on which to stick. Shrevvy had followed Older, taking Cliff Marsland along in the cab. As the socko specialist of The Shadow’s staff, Cliff was a one-man crew; hence he hadn’t wasted time in gathering up any companions.