Could it have been George Clarendon?
Burke recalled the soft laugh. Yet there was nothing else that might have revealed his rescuer’s identity.
“He seemed like a shadow!” murmured Burke. “Like a shadow, that came and went in the blackness of the night!”
CHAPTER VII. PALERMO TALKS BUSINESS
IT was night again. A truck drew up at the side entrance of the Marimba Apartments, and the driver beckoned to the porter.
“Here’s that box you were expecting,” he said. “Better get another guy to help us lift it. It’s heavy.”
“That little box?” questioned the porter incredulously.
“Must be loaded with lead” replied the driver. “Took three husky boys to hoist it on the truck.”
The porter looked about him. There was no one else on duty. While he was wondering about the third man, a figure appeared from the shadows at the side of the building. It was the form of roughly dressed man, whose old, frayed sweater seemed too bulky for the size of his thin frame.
“I’ll help youse, boss,” said the newcomer, in a wheedling voice. “I usta work on a truck. Lemme lend youse a hand.”