"Deacon slipped this to me," announced Judge. "Look at it." He handed the paper to Major, who held it so that Butcher and Ferret could also peruse the writing.
"Watch out for a man named Henry Arnaud," were the words. "He is staying at the Darthmore. Looks suspicious. Have seen him twice, and found out his name tonight." Ferret was so intent in scanning the message from Deacon, that he forgot all about the darkened hallway by the door. He had been looking in that direction every few minutes. Had he glanced there now, he would have seen the door open slowly, and then close again. But the action was silent, and passed unnoticed.
"What will we do about it?" asked Butcher.
"Well," said Judge. "I'll leave that to Major. You three are going out shortly. Call the hotel from a pay station, Major. Ask for the number of Henry Arnaud's room. Get that for a start."
"Right," said Major. "I'll start along in a few minutes."
"This is more tangible than The Shadow," declared Judge. "Deacon is shrewd. He sees much, but says little. He is handicapped at present. It would be unwise for him to check on this man, Arnaud, and he knows it."
Twenty minutes later, Major stopped in a drug store near the hotel, and called the Darthmore. He smiled as he heard the clerk's reply. A minute later, Major met Ferret and Butcher, outside the store.
"We can forget that fellow, Arnaud," he said. "He checked out nearly half an hour ago. Leaving town on the bus to catch the Eastern Limited. He had his ticket with him — the clerk said he might be reached in Cleveland. That's where he's going."
The three men parted. Each had the same thought. Deacon and Judge, shrewd though they might be, were over-apprehensive. Deacon was worried about Henry Arnaud. Judge was concerned about The Shadow.
Why worry? Arnaud had gone from Middletown. The Shadow had not come to the city.