Responding instinctively to the warning, Harry glanced about him. As he gazed to the left, he noted a man sitting in a chair backed against the adjoining side of the pillar.
The man was looking in his direction. He had a newspaper spread out before him, and his head bobbed back to read it, but he was too late to avoid Harry’s questioning gaze.
Pretending that he had not seen the man’s action, Harry crumpled the note into a ball, and carried it over to the side of the lobby, where he dropped it in a wastebasket. The ink had already faded.
Harry lounged about the lobby, anxious to see if the man who had been watching him would go to investigate the wastebasket.
It was one o’clock now. Two hours to wait. Perhaps there would be important action ahead.
The last few days had been idle ones for Harry Vincent. Since he had left Bruce Duncan and Arlette DeLand, after they had lunched together, three days ago, he had found time passing slowly and tediously.
He had seen Fellows that afternoon, three days ago. Since then, no word whatever, until this letter that had arrived to-day.
He had been utterly unable to locate Bruce Duncan since. He had also called the Hotel Paragon a dozen times, and had asked for Arlette DeLand. She had not been there.
So far, Harry was entirely in the dark regarding any unusual events which might be transpiring.
He had received no explanation regarding the episode at the Pink Rat. He only knew that The Shadow had rescued him.