But, unlike Cliff Marsland, Burbank was able to report both ends of the conversation. His statements were verbatim.
“No calls made by Donegan?” came the whispered question, when Burbank had finished speaking.
“None.”
“I am standing by. Connect when Donegan receives a call.”
“Right!”
Burbank hung up the outside phone and remained silent. He was a patient waiter; it was his business to wait. Yet, this very afternoon, Burbank had indulged in other work.
Flash Donegan had gone out during the afternoon. Burbank had learned of the fact through a call over the outside wire. It was then that Burbank had entered Donegan’s apartment, with the aid of a special key that had been left for him.
The Shadow, master of locks, had not neglected to study the fastening on Flash Donegan’s door the night on which he had paid his unseen visit.
In Donegan’s, Burbank had worked swiftly. When he had finished his labors, not a clew remained. Flash Donegan’s wire had been tapped and hooked up with Burbank’s second telephone in the room below. It was through this medium that Burbank had listened to every word that had passed between Flash and his subordinate, Dip Riker.
WITH Burbank at his station, The Shadow was free to conduct other operations. The man who moved swiftly by night was endeavoring to locate Flash Donegan’s base of operations — the spot where Marty Jennings and Lance Bolero were on duty.