Original stock issue sold through Acme Securities Company.
President of concern: Logan Mungren. Rating of Acme Securities Company is high, but concern has handled speculative investments on occasion.
Mann’s report read, The Shadow removed the various papers from the table. His hands produced a folded sheet. Spread out, this proved to be a large-scale map of Manhattan.
Upon one spot — the location of the Hotel Zenith — The Shadow inserted a pin with a white head. Upon another — the place where Dustin Cruett had collapsed — a pin with a black top.
The space between these spots included the course which Dustin Cruett must have traveled on his short journey to doom. The distance was not far. There was but one probable course which Cruett might have followed.
That gained, The Shadow removed the pins and folded the map. His hands produced paper and pen. In ink of vivid blue, he inscribed a note in coded words. As the ink dried, the white hands folded the paper and placed it in an envelope. With another pen, The Shadow addressed the missive to Rutledge Mann, Badger Building, New York City.
Rutledge Mann would understand that code. More than that, the message would be lost as soon as he had read it. The Shadow’s ink had a faculty for disappearing shortly after it came in contact with the air.
THE SHADOW’S instructions were specific. Rutledge Mann, upon the morrow, would call up Harry Vincent, an active agent who served The Shadow. He would give Harry instructions to go to South Shoreview, there to learn the status of the plant operated by the Electro Oceanic Corporation.
Piecing information, The Shadow had divined the purpose of Dustin Cruett’s arrival in New York. The dead man had come to Manhattan following an investigation of some sort. Cruett’s business had centered about stocks and the companies which they represented.
In all the list, the Electro Oceanic Corporation was the only one which had a plant located in a vicinity directly reached through Washington. Dustin Cruett had come from Washington. He had been murdered after his arrival in New York.
What had Dustin Cruett learned? Was his information the reason why he had been marked for death? These were questions that The Shadow wanted to be answered. He had taken a direct step to that end.
The hands disappeared from the table. The bluish light clicked off. Amid somber darkness, a low laugh rose from whispered tone to eerie crescendo. Quivering echoes responded; then died.
The Shadow had departed from his sanctum. His own work lay within the confines of Manhattan. His study would concern that route which Dustin Cruett had followed from the Hotel Zenith to the spot where he had met his doom.
The circle of death had struck. The Shadow, though he had not yet learned of the circle’s existence, would soon be in that area where crime prevailed!
CHAPTER VI
THE FIRST OPTION
DESPITE the blackness of The Shadow’s sanctum, daylight still prevailed in Manhattan at the hour when the mysterious crime hunter had left his abode.
It was after five o’clock; and at the very moment of The Shadow’s departure from his sanctum, a man was alighting from a taxicab in front of a huge building on Lexington Avenue.
This man was Maurice Bewkel, first option holder in Electro Oceanic Corporation. As soon as he had paid the driver, Bewkel turned and hurried into the building. He entered an elevator and rode to the thirty-sixth floor.
Alighting there, he walked a few doors to an office which bore the legend:
ACME SECURITIES COMPANY
LOGAN MUNGREN
President
Entering the door, Bewkel stopped in front of a little wicket which showed in the panel of an anteroom. A girl looked inquiringly through the opening.
“Is Mr. Mungren still here?” inquired Bewkel.
“Yes,” replied the girl. “Are you Mr. Bewkel?”
Bewkel nodded.
“Go right into his office,” declared the girl, pressing a switch to open the door. “It is down the passage to the left.”
Maurice Bewkel entered. The inner offices were deserted, as it was after five o’clock. At the end of the corridor, however, Bewkel entered an opened door to discover a portly, baldheaded man seated behind a desk.
“Good afternoon,” declared Bewkel. “Sorry that I could not arrive sooner, Mr. Mungren.”
“Quite all right.” Mungren was beaming as he arose to proffer his hand. “Quite all right, Mr. Bewkel. I can always wait to discuss business with customers such as yourself. Sit down. Let us talk about this Electro Oceanic business.”
BEWKEL seated himself opposite Mungren. He waited while the securities man referred to a folding calendar. Then he made a remark:
“The option is due tomorrow.”
“So it is.” Mungren had found the date. “Due tomorrow, or it will expire.”
“So,” declared Bewkel, “I shall deliver the funds that are required. I assume that you will demand a certified check for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Mungren stared with mouth agape. He dropped the calendar upon the table.
“You mean,” he blurted, “that you intend to exercise this option?”
“Certainly.”
“With Electro Oceanic selling at ten dollars a share?”
“Not so long ago,” reminded Bewkel, with a dry smile, “you were quite optimistic about Electro Oceanic, Mr. Mungren. You sold me fifty thousand dollars worth of stock in what I might term an eager fashion. Now, when I offer three times that sum, you act as though I have lost my senses. Is that consistent?”
There was a touch of irony in Bewkel’s tone. For a moment, Logan Mungren appeared half-angered, half-cornered. Then he regained his poise.
“Mr. Bewkel,” he declared, “I sold you Electro Oceanic as a speculative investment. I knew that its par value might fall. I did not expect it to drop to one tenth of its original value.
“I regard you as a client. You have made other purchases — profitable ones — through me. I advise you, now, to drop Electro Oceanic. Why send good money after that which has proven bad?”
“Because I still have confidence in Electro Oceanic. Perhaps, Mr. Mungren, I still believe in the possibilities which you outlined when I purchased my first stock.”
“The possibilities are there.” Mungren nodded as though making an admission. “But the excessive cost of manufacturing the wave motors has rendered them impractical from a commercial standpoint.
“New stock will be issued in Electro Oceanic. I doubt, however, that it will find buyers. Unfortunately, Mr. Bewkel, wave motors are one of certain inventions which cannot be classed as impracticable until they have been built and put in operation.
“Why spend money to produce new ones when those that have been manufactured have shown their ineffectiveness? Fortunately, Electro Oceanic has not yet failed. Your present stock can be sold at ten dollars a share. I advise you to dispose of it instead of exercising an option on the new issue.”
“Which means,” decided Bewkel, “that I should be content with five thousand dollars from my original fifty thousand?”
“Exactly.”
“Not a bit of it. I prefer to invest one hundred and fifty thousand dollars more. That is my decision, Mr. Mungren. I have come here to arrange for the issuance of the stock so that I may receive it in return for delivery of the option.”
SETTLING back in his chair, Logan Mungren studied his visitor. He saw an expression of determination upon Maurice Bewkel’s face. He realized that no amount of argument could cause the wealthy man to change his purpose. “Very well,” declared Mungren, in a tone of resignation. “I have warned you, Mr. Bewkel. I no longer consider Electro Oceanic to be a sound investment. The decision upon the option rests with you, however. I profit through it, because I gain my commission on the sale. I do not, however, care to make money at the expense of my clients.”