Never did Weston guess that these periods really indicated Cranston's deep interest in some criminal investigation that the police were conducting; yet such was invariably the case. As Cranston, The Shadow had the habit of appearing quite bored at too much mention of current crime.
It was to Margo Lane that the quiet Mr. Cranston expressed the purpose of his frequent meetings with Weston during this important day. Cranston met Margo in a cafe lounge during the cocktail hour, and smiled approvingly when she ordered a Mirage, a pinkish drink that looked quite powerful, but did not have a drop of liquor in it.
"Good judgment, Margo," said Cranston, quietly. "I may be needing you later."
"After you've seen the commissioner again?" bantered Margo.
"Exactly!" Cranston glanced at his watch. "He will be at the Cobalt Club at half-past five. I want to be there when he arrives."
Margo took a sip of the Mirage, then queried:
"Why all this sudden interest?"
"Because of Sherbrock," replied Cranston. "I think that he may be innocent. If such is the case, crooks are holding him. Therefore it is important to check anything that the police learn about Sherbrock."
"So that you may get a trail to the guilty men - for instance, Dwig Brencott? Is that it, Lamont?"
For reply, Margo received a headshake.
"I can leave the guilty to The Shadow," was Cranston's laconic reply. "I merely felt that I, in my feeble way, might aid an innocent man."
Margo was still thinking that one over, when she saw Cranston stroll out to keep his appointment with the police commissioner. She approved Lamont's policy of discussing The Shadow as a distinct personality, but it did not deceive her. Margo had learned enough to understand the full extent of the present case.
With agents still on the hunt for Dwig Brencott, who had ducked away again without being recognized by Cardona and the detectives, The Shadow was personally keeping tabs with developments from the Sherbrock angle.
It was true that Cranston wanted to aid Sherbrock; equally certain that The Shadow could uncover mobsters if Sherbrock happened to be found. Hence, Margo could find no flaw in Lamont's statement.
Cranston would search for the innocent, and The Shadow would find the guilty. One and one made two -
which happened to be one and the same.
Another point occurred to Margo. If Sherbrock happened to be the real head of the jewel mob, as the police believed, The Shadow - through his Cranston guise - would get to the guilty, anyway. But Margo accepted Lamont's opinion of Sherbrock at its face value. She only wished that she had asked him something else: his present views regarding the six sapphires, formerly the Star of Delhi.
Margo had come to the adamant conclusion that those gems, when located, would provide the complete answer to crime's riddle.
MATTERS promised well, as soon as The Shadow reached the Cobalt Club. He found Joe Cardona there, and the inspector was glad to see Weston's affable friend, Cranston, who was one man who often sided with Joe's opinions when they conflicted with the commissioner's.
Soon after, Weston arrived in a hurry, steered both men to a corner and spoke brusquely to Cardona:
"Well, inspector, let me see the message!"
Inferring that Weston wasn't keeping secrets from Cranston, Cardona produced the message, explaining it as he did.
"It's a letter," said the inspector. "It came into Sherbrock's office today, in the last mail. Sent last night, according to the postmark, before Sherbrock's mob knew we got a tip-off."
"A letter?" demanded Weston bluntly. "Then why did you call it a message?"
"Because it looks like one, commissioner."
It did look like a message. It was a half sheet of paper, folded twice, and its brief statement was typed in capitals that bore no signature. Weston read it, then showed it to Cranston. The message stated: H. J. COMING INTO NEW YORK TOMORROW. DON'T WORRY. EVERYTHING
IS FIXED. JAKE WILL TAKE CARE OF HIM AT FIFTY-FIVE.
The commissioner grunted, then queried:
"What do you make of it?"
He put the question to Cranston, but it was Cardona who answered. Joe already had a theory.
"I'd say it meant five minutes to the hour," declared the inspector. "But which hour - that's the question.
Unless the guy that wrote it was smart and tried some double talk. He might mean five-fifty. That would be ten minutes of six."
"Ridiculous!" snapped Weston. "Fifty-five is an address. Probably a number on some street right here in New York."
"There's more streets than there are hours, reminded Cardona. "With only twelve hours to pick from -"
"Twenty-four," corrected Weston. "Two sets of twelve."
"That's right," agreed Cardona. Then: "But there's two sets of streets, too - east and west. It doubles up on you, too, commissioner."
The Shadow smiled at the final quip, but his face was turned away. He was going to a phone booth; he called Margo and suggested that she meet him promptly, outside the Cobalt Club in her coupe. Of course, his tone was Cranston's.
He was still Cranston as he stepped from the booth to find Weston and Cardona beckoning to him.
From Weston's manner, The Shadow guessed that the commissioner had won out despite Cardona's neat dig.
"We're going on a tour," declared Weston. "We're going to zigzag across Fifth Avenue looking at all places that have the address of No. 55. Would you like to come along, Cranston?"
After brief consideration, The Shadow shook his head.
"It would take too long a time," he said, as he strolled with the others toward the door. "Besides, I'm expecting Miss Lane. We're going to have dinner at a night club. I don't know just which one -"
They had reached the street when Cranston's tone took its pause. His companions stared, wondering what had struck him. Slowly, he said:
"I wonder -"
Another pause, during which Margo's car swept into sight around the corner. Then Cranston added:
"I wonder if fifty-five could mean a street, rather than a building number?"
Weston shook his head; then, observing Cranston's fixed expression, the commissioner demanded why his friend had put the query.
"Because fifty-five would then mean Fifty-fifth Street," was The Shadow's reply. "As I recall it, there is a night club up there that took its name from the number of the street. It is called Club Fifty-five."
That was enough for Weston. He exclaimed the name, "Fifty-five!" and Cardona echoed it. Both were anxious to get started, but since Margo had by then arrived, Cranston decided to go in her car, saying that Club Fifty-five would be a good place to dine in case the lead proved worthless.
BOTH cars reached Club Fifty-five at the same time. By then, Cranston had explained matters to Margo; while Cardona, in his turn, had been expressing ideas to Weston.
Joe was so enthused that he started into the night club ahead of the others, flashed a badge at a startled head waiter and demanded:
"Who's Jake?"
"Why... why everything's jake!" the head waiter began. Then, properly comprehending the query, he added: "I guess you mean Jake, the barkeeper - over there."
There was just one barkeep on duty, a beefy man who was serving a drink to a rather drowsy customer perched on a stool, with head tilted against his arm. Cardona was about to start toward the bar, when Cranston's hand restrained him.
"Perhaps it would be better," suggested The Shadow quietly, "if one of us stopped there first. Myself, for example - or Miss Lane."
With Weston nodding, Cardona agreed, realizing that it would give him a chance to cover Jake without the barkeeper knowing it. The Shadow turned toward Margo in Cranston's polite manner. With a smile, the girl said: