“Reserved?” asked the waiter.
“Yes.”
He was ushered to one of the empty rooms.
“You are expecting others, sir?” questioned the waiter.
“Yes,” replied Cliff.
As soon as the waiter had gone, Cliff reached beneath the table. His fingers found an envelope. Cliff opened it.
Inside were three slips of cardboard, each a storage receipt from a garage. Cliff smiled and slipped the objects into his pocket. He did not know who had left the envelope there, but he imagined it was The Shadow.
The envelope had come off easily; it could not have been fastened in place very long before. That did not matter, however. The important fact was that the presence of the envelope fitted in exactly with instructions that Cliff had received not long ago through the medium of the sign that flashed outside his apartment window.
Cliff lighted a cigarette and waited. Five minutes passed. Nipper appeared at the door. He entered and closed the door behind him. The pasty-faced gunman grinned as he gripped Cliff’s hand.
“Everything’s fixed,” he said. “Got ‘em on the phone ten minutes after you called me. They remembered you all right, up in the Big House. Patsy thinks you’re an ace. Both him an’ Dave are right guys.”