Steve! That filled the gap in Vincent's memory. He knew now that the fellow was Steve Cronin, the New York gangster who was in hiding. Steve Cronin was known to Harry Vincent, but Cronin did not know Vincent.
Some time ago, Cronin had murdered a man in a New York hotel, and had escaped for parts unknown.
Harry had seen Cronin then, but at that time the man had had a black mustache. Now he was clean-shaven.
The New York police wanted Steve Cronin. That was not Harry's concern, however. His instructions came from one source only — from a mysterious person called The Shadow. At present, Harry was under no orders.
Yet The Shadow had been somewhat concerned with Cronin at the time of the murder in the Metrolite Hotel. Whatever information Harry could obtain about the man's present actions might prove useful. So he listened carefully.
Cronin's conversation was brisk and unilluminating. He seemed to be cutting short the remarks that were coming over the phone.
"Tell me later," Harry heard him say. "Meet me an hour from now. I'll be at the Gorham Hotel. I'll be registered as Stephen Bell. Come up to my room. I'll leave the door open."
The receiver banged on the hook, and Steve Cronin walked from the booth.
* * *
Harry Vincent was at the Gorham Hotel twenty minutes later. The place was an old one that had known better days. There were a few men hanging around the lobby. Harry looked at the register and saw the entry of "Stephen Bell, Room No. 322."