But if any other person had opened the envelope, the message would have faded away before he had realized that the words were spelled backward.
Burke’s companion evidently knew the contents of the note. He extended his hand, and as Burke shook it, the man introduced himself.
“My name,” he said, “is Harry Vincent. You and I are engaged in the same work. Before I tell you more, let me show you something that will interest you.”
He drew Burke to the alcove, which had a small, high window. He handed the newspaperman a pair of opera glasses.
“Look through the glasses, Burke,” he said. “Third window to the right— next floor above — across the court.”
Clyde Burke focused the opera glasses. The sun was shining into the window indicated. Clyde’s magnified vision discovered something that he could not have observed without the aid of the glasses.
A man was standing back from the window. Beside him was the dim outline of what appeared to be a tripod. Mounted on the structure was a rodlike device with a large, cumbersome muzzle.
“A rifle,” explained Harry Vincent, as Clyde was about to question him. “A rifle, fitted with a silencer. It’s trained directly on the window of your office. Had you opened that window — well, a few days from now, they would have discovered your body.”
“But how—”
“How did I discover it?” Harry smiled. “I have been watching you, Burke— watching both you and your surroundings. I was here to warn you.