Little did they suspect that their enemy had already laid the groundwork for a new and vital thrust.
The name of Stanley Warwick bore the sterling mark. As Palermo had said, this relentless pursuer of criminals was above suspicion. No one could possibly know what had transpired that evening in Palermo’s apartment. No one — not even The Shadow!
CHAPTER XIV. PALERMO’S MESSAGE
A MAN and a woman were finishing dinner in an alcove of the roof garden atop the Riviera Hotel. Palm trees secluded them from the main dining room.
The soft, melodious music of the dance orchestra seemed very far away. A gentle breeze came through the arched opening on the other side. The girl looked out through the archway, where the myriad lights of Manhattan glittered like jewels in the darkness.
“Cigarette?” questioned the man.
The girl nodded.
The man watched his companion as she blew tiny puffs of smoke which took an orange hue from the mellow light of the alcove.
She was very beautiful. Her eyes were half-closed; her long, black lashes added to her natural charm.
She seemed a modern Circe — an enchantress whose loveliness could lure a man into forgetfulness.