This was because he had utilized a special ink for the actual message. All of The Shadow’s correspondence was done with an invisible fluid that disappeared after the recipient had read it.
“Take this to the Hotel de Burgundy,” ordered Cliff, giving the driver the note, along with another handful of coins.
The driver nodded and noted the inscription. The envelope was addressed to Mr. Henry Arnaud, care of the Hotel de Burgundy.
Cliff smiled in satisfaction as the cab pulled away. He did not know whether other of The Shadow’s agents were in Paris; but any who might be here would call for that note, and thus learn where Cliff had gone.
Strolling back to L’Aigle d’Argent, Cliff quietly opened the gate in back of it. He looked about him to make sure that no one was watching. Cliff’s gaze was keen, but it failed to discern two men who were standing beneath a low bay window on the opposite side of the street.
Positive that the man who had entered here must be an important figure in some unknown plot, Cliff was determined to confront him face to face.
Cliff’s spirit was an adventurous one. Gun play, to him, was a more effective form of action than mere craftiness. For this reason, he served The Shadow only in special situations.
Cliff knew that he had been sent to Paris because of his knowledge of the European capital. Foolish action might bring trouble. Nevertheless, The Shadow’s agents were free to follow their own dictates in times of emergency.
Cliff’s first action was to try a door in the side of the house. To his surprise, it opened. He entered and found a flight of rickety stairs lighted by a single gas jet. Cliff ascended and noted three doors. Light shone under one.
With automatic in hand, Cliff slowly turned the knob of the door and entered the room. A man was sitting at an old table, his back to the door. The window shade was drawn. The man turned instinctively, a moment after Cliff had entered.