Flash Donegan was impressed by these statements. Secretly, he had felt fear when he had heard Lance Bolero’s revelation. His pose of unconcern was merely affected to keep his henchmen from becoming more alarmed.
“What did you find out about this guy Vincent?” Flash questioned Dip. “What was his game? Where’s he from?”
“I figured him for a dick,” replied Dip. “Couldn’t get anything on him.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what he’s doing,” declared Flash. “He’s working with The Shadow, that’s what! He must have got there ahead of The Shadow — up at the warehouse.
“Well, The Shadow got him out of a jam, but he won’t do it again!”
FLASH began to pace the room, talking in a low voice, as though expressing thoughts to himself. There was a purpose in this action. He wanted to fill Dip and Lance with confidence by giving them an idea of their own importance.
“The Shadow, eh?” Flash was sneering. “Tough guy? Well, he’s not tough enough for us. If he’s what they say he is, he’ll be back up there, snooping.
“It won’t do him any good tonight. He couldn’t crash that gate without a charge of dynamite. But we’re not going to let any chances slip. We’re going to get The Shadow!”
He gazed at his henchmen impressively.
“We’ve only been watching there when something was doing,” he continued. “But from now on, it’s every night. Marty’s on the fritz. That means there’s only two of you. Dip can’t be there all the while.”