CHAPTER VI
DIP TRAILS TROUBLE
DIP RIKER had one misfortune: his face. Had it not been for his ugly, fang-toothed features, he might have been the leader, and his friend Flash Donegan the underling. But Dip, wherever he went, was a marked man. That was the reason why he exercised extreme caution whenever he had any special task to perform.
This evening — Thursday — he had a definite duty. He was to watch and follow the man who had paid a visit to the old house where Clinton Glendenning lived. Harry Vincent was Dip Riker’s quarry.
Flash Donegan had assigned Dip to the job because he knew that Dip could do it. At the same time, Dip labored under a handicap. He was afraid to show himself too often in the lobby of the Hotel Metrolite, where Harry Vincent spent most of his idle hours.
It was after six o’clock when Dip, realizing that the important evening was at hand, decided that it would be best to keep a closer watch on his man. He had spied Harry in a lounging chair, in the hotel lobby, by looking through the revolving door. The young man seemed half asleep.
Dip entered, keeping his face turned away. He went directly to the cigar counter, and purchased a newspaper. Sitting down, he hid his features behind the outspread pages, and managed to keep a sly watch on Harry without running risk of being noticed.
Dip’s hunch proved a good one. Within ten minutes after his arrival, he heard a boy paging Mr. Vincent. Harry looked up and inquired. The boy pointed to a telephone on the lobby desk.
Here, again, Dip was in luck. The telephone was not more than fifteen feet from where he was sitting.
Harry Vincent appeared to have trouble being heard when he spoke. Dip drank in every word. By the time the conversation was well begun, the wolf-faced gangster was gaining useful information.