“And I suppose,” declared Burke, “that he disappeared with important documents on his person.”
“You guessed it,” rejoined Garvey. “Same as the others, Burke. Laugh it off if you want to — but I’m telling you this is no hokum. I know the guy’s name — and I know what’s missing.”
“Yes? When did you begin to rate so high with the state department?”
“Never mind that. I’ve landed some good stories. But it’s always my luck to pick up something that can’t be used. The fellow that’s missing is named Glade Tromboll. The documents that he had were correspondence with South American countries.”
“Is that all you found out?”
“All?” Garvey snorted. “Say — that’s too much. What can you do with it? Nothing. Like those other birds that flew the coop, this one is being kept quiet. Boy! You can’t touch a story like that without official permission. You know what would happen if I tried to get it?”
“Sure,” responded Burke. “You’d find out that there never was anybody by the name of Glade Tromboll here in Washington.”
“That’s it.” Garvey grinned sourly. “You’re wise to the way things work in this town. Land something that looks real — you can’t touch it. It’s lucky that newspapers like feature stories on the extermination of Japanese beetles and construction of irrigation canals. If it wasn’t for old stand-bys like that, I’d starve to death.”
Garvey flicked his cigarette through the open window and strolled to the door. He waved good-by to Burke and left the office.
AS soon as the door had closed, Clyde Burke reached for pencil and paper. He wrote out the information which the other newspaperman had just mentioned.
Unwittingly, Garvey had brought important news to Clyde Burke. Garvey was but one of many free lances who dropped into the National City News Association. Ever since he had opened his office, a few weeks previous, Clyde Burke had been buying news items from those who had them to offer.
Why a young man like Clyde Burke should have come to Washington to compete with other news bureaus in the already overburdened capital, was a mystery that had bothered no one. Others before Burke had fallen for that same lure. Journalism had the mythical tradition that one might gain fame and fortune by opening a Washington news service.
Thus Clyde had been classed simply as another hopeful who was predestined to failure. Men like Garvey had not even attempted to veil their opinions concerning his enterprise. They had seen others of Burke’s ilk come and go. They allowed the National City News Association a few months of existence — that was all.
Little did they realize the true purpose of Clyde Burke’s presence in Washington! The answer lay in the quickness with which Clyde had seized upon the rumor which he had heard from Garvey. Facts like the disappearance of Glade Tromboll were what Clyde Burke was seeking!
Less than a month ago, Clyde Burke had been working as a news reporter on the staff of the New York Classic. While serving in that capacity, he had heard the rumor, whispered among newspapermen, that four men had mysteriously disappeared from Washington.
No names had been given. Two men, it was said, were minor members of South American legations. Two others had been government employees. Each disappearance had been a matter of serious consequence.
Rumors that circulate through newspaper offices are usually well supplied with background. These stories which Clyde Burke had heard while working for the Classic had not been printed. But to Clyde Burke, they had proven more important than the greatest scoop he might possibly have made. Clyde had sent them on to one who would find use for them.
That one was The Shadow.
A STRANGE being who dwelt in unknown surroundings, The Shadow spent his life fighting in behalf of justice. A sinister figure whose ominous power had spelled doom to ways of evildoers, The Shadow had gained an amazing reputation as a battler of crime.
Through agents — men who, though faithful, did not themselves know the identity of their mysterious chief — The Shadow kept his finger upon the pulsebeats of crime. One of his active agents was none other than Clyde Burke. Through Clyde, The Shadow had learned these rumors of mysterious disappearances in the national capital.
Clyde Burke had come to Washington at The Shadow’s bidding. This office, in which he acted as a news correspondent, was a blind. It was Clyde’s duty to learn more about the rumored disappearances. Until today, however, Clyde had uncovered nothing.
Another rumor! A new disappearance! This was a double discovery. To a clear thinker like Clyde Burke, it carried a special significance. Four men had previously vanished from view: two were government employees; two were attaches of South American legations.
This fifth case — involving Glade Tromboll — was a link between the others. Tromboll, according to Garvey, was a government employee; the documents which the missing man supposedly possessed were South American correspondence!
Seated at the desk in his little office, Clyde Burke set his lips grimly. He realized that he had been negligent. In two weeks at Washington, he should have gained some data prior to the disappearance of Glade Tromboll. Instead, Clyde had learned nothing; now, while he was on the very ground, another man had vanished.
In fact, Clyde had come to believe that the previous disappearance had been mere matters of coincidence. He had said so in his past reports. This time he would be forced to retract his statements. His own inability to get past the fringes of rumor meant that there could be but one way of getting further. Clyde would have to pass his work on to The Shadow.
Taking a telephone book, Clyde Burke looked up the name of Glade Tromboll. He did not find it listed. He consulted other reference books — those which contained the names of government employees — and still found no mention of the man he wanted.
Clyde brought out a fountain pen. On white paper, he wrote a brief report in coded language. Oddly ciphered words appeared in ink of vivid blue. As the writing dried, Clyde hastily folded the sheet and thrust it in an envelope. Using another pen, he wrote this address:
Rutledge Mann,
Badger Building,
New York City.
RUTLEDGE MANN was contact agent for The Shadow. A message sent to him would be forwarded to The Shadow himself. The ink in which Clyde Burke had written his message was a special type of fluid provided by The Shadow. Its dried writing would vanish a few minutes after the letter was unfolded.
This meant that The Shadow alone would have opportunity to read the coded lines. Should it fall into other hands, the message would prove useless; it would be gone before a person could begin to decipher it.
Clyde placed a stamp upon the envelope. He left the office, dropped the letter in a mail chute and returned. He closed the news bureau and strolled from the building. A short walk brought him to the hotel where he was stopping.
Seated in a room high above the street, Clyde watched the glittering lights as they appeared below. Washington, of all cities, seemed placid and law-abiding. Yet Clyde Burke felt convinced that somewhere in the nation’s capital lay a problem that would prove difficult even to The Shadow.
While he was staring from the window, a sudden thought struck Clyde Burke. The young man went to a table and opened a drawer. He brought out a neatly printed card which bore the legend:
Club Rivoli
Across the Potomac
Open All Night
This was a spot that Clyde Burke had visited shortly after his arrival in Washington. He had learned that it was frequented by attaches of various legations, together with persons connected with the government.
Clyde had seen nothing at the Club Rivoli to arouse his suspicions. He had made the acquaintance of the proprietor — a genial fellow named “Whistler” Ingliss. Tonight, however, with thoughts of previous negligence disturbing him, Clyde Burke decided that a new visit to the Club Rivoli would be wise. He realized that he must pass up no opportunity while waiting for new orders from The Shadow.