Bud Sherman heard the conversation and paid no attention to it. He did not notice the peculiar emphasis that the speaker had placed on certain words.
“Man there now. Follow him. Stop him in the theater lobby.”
That was what Lamont Cranston had told the listener at the other end of the telephone.
All the while, the speaker kept his eyes on the window across the street, where the idler was standing motionless, gazing at the display, unconscious of the fact that he was within the range of a motion-picture camera.
Cranston was deliberately calling another number — also the same exchange. He received an answer, and began an ordinary conversation that continued for about a minute. Then, again, his words took on a peculiar emphasis.
“I’ll see you at the meeting; I’m taking Harry’s place. Yes, I’ll go on Monday afternoon. It will be my second trip there. Good-by, old man.”
The hidden message was: “Meeting taking place. Go after second man.”
As Cranston delivered it, smoothly and effectively, his words were timed with an event that was occurring across the street.
Another man had swung out of the crowd. The first sign that marked him as different from the other passers was the fact that he also turned to look in Brantwell’s window, so that only his back was visible.
He stood there, close behind the first man, who could not see him. His hand slipped in the pocket of his blue overcoat. He brought forth a small object.