"One man failed to repay a debt of five hundred dollars. I lost other small amounts. Less than a thousand, all together. That proves my wisdom in my method.
"I could leave tonight. Walk upstairs, take my bag, and step out of this house. All right. No trouble. As a matter of fact, I shall not touch that bag until I leave, sometime tomorrow night."
"What time are you leaving?"
"I don't even know that. When I please. But let us get back to the curios. It is too late now for you to make a choice. The servants are leaving tomorrow afternoon. I shall be alone here in the evening. If you wish, come out, and you and I can pack what you want. You will have to provide the truck to carry away the box. That is all."
"Good," said Savette, with a tone of sudden decision. "A great idea, Mr. Cranston. I accept your kind offer."
Cranston called Richards. "When are you packing up the den?" he asked.
"You said day after tomorrow, sir," said Richards. "Everything else goes out tomorrow. I am to return later to—"
"That's right," observed Cranston. "I had forgotten. Tomorrow, Richards, move this box upstairs. Doctor Savette is coming. He and I will pack some of the curios, and a truck will come to take it. You pack whatever is left, and send it to that special storage house."
"Very good, sir."
"Let's see, now" — Cranston became thoughtful — "you and all the servants will be away tomorrow night—"
"All except Stanley, sir. He will be here to drive you to the station."
"I can do that, Mr. Cranston," observed Savette.
"Surely, surely," said Cranston. "Tell Stanley he can go, also, Richards. That will be a great help, doctor. Send a truck. We shall pack the box and let the men take it. Then we can put my portmanteau in your car. At that time" — he laughed as he spoke — "I shall decide what train I intend to take, what railroad it will be on, and where I am going."
This arranged, Savette noticed the lateness of the hour, and decided that he must be leaving. Cranston accompanied his visitor to the door, and warmly bade him good night.
Driving back toward Manhattan, Doctor Gerald Savette smiled in glee. A short chuckle clucked from his lean lips as he reviewed all that Lamont Cranston had settled and said. Savette had found a perfect scheme. He had waited wisely before formulating his final crime. Soon he and his companions would roll in unexpected wealth.
Not even The Shadow was a menace now!
Chapter XVII — The Plan Works
At nine o'clock the next evening Doctor Savette again arrived at Lamont Cranston's home — exactly twenty-four hours after his first visit to the millionaire's mansion.
He noted, as he came up the drive, that only a single light was burning in the house.
Savette chuckled. He thought of a wire that he had dispatched last night to Glendale.
The physician was forced to ring the bell twice before the door was opened. It was Lamont Cranston who answered. The millionaire smiled wanly.
"I am everything tonight," he said. "I am taking the place of Richards. I was upstairs in the den when you rang. Have you arranged for a truck?"
"It will be here in half an hour."
"Good. I want to leave about ten."
The men went upstairs. They entered the den. Cranston puffed as he noted that the room was warm.
"Take off your coat, doctor," he said. "I am going to put you to work." Savette complied with the suggestion. Cranston removed his own coat. In vests and shirt sleeves, they walked about, looking at the various objects. Savette pointed out different rugs and skins. He also selected a few other objects.
Together, the men piled the articles into the big box, which stood just within the door.
Cranston peered into the interior as Savette was arranging it.
"It looks like a padded cell," he said with a laugh. "Have you had any experience with them, doctor?" Savette chuckled and grunted an incoherent reply in response. Cranston's hand was resting on the chair where the physician's coat lay. He happened to bring it into the light.
The gleam of metal showed momentarily; then Cranston's hand dropped.
Doctor Savette turned from the box. He looked about the room with the air of a connoisseur; then stroked his chin, reflectively.
"I think that will do," he observed "My room is very small. I certainly appreciate your kindness, Mr. Cranston."
"Don't mention it," said the millionaire.
"Now we are ready," declared the physician, putting on his coat. Lamont Cranston also donned his outer garment.
"I must get my portmanteau," said Cranston.
He walked across the hallway and disappeared for a moment. He came back, lugging a heavy suitcase which he set down with a thump.
"All ready," he announced. "Let us close the big box; then we can see if the truckmen are here." The millionaire stooped before the box Savette looked at the man's face in the light.
Cranston was comparatively young, but his face seemed rather old. It was almost masklike, the physician noted, as though his features were formed from an artificial mold — a smooth surface over a visage beneath.
The physician's hands were in his coat pockets. They moved restlessly; then paused as Cranston stepped away from the box and turned toward him.
"Sure you do not want to take more?" questioned the millionaire. "This box will hold a great deal—"
"It is rather well filled," said Savette.
"Listen!" Cranston held up his hand for silence. "Can that be the truck you ordered?"
"I expect so," said Savette. "I left word for it to pull up outside and wait."
"Perhaps you had better make sure," said Cranston. "Wait — I can go downstairs." He turned toward the door of the den, but Savette stopped him.
"We might as well close the box first," he said. "Do you have the keys for the padlocks?"
Cranston fumbled in his pockets.
"Here they are." He brought out a bunch of keys and tossed them to the physician. "I shall try them to make sure."
He unlocked each of the closed padlocks. Then, as an afterthought, he walked about the box, thumping it heavily.
"Excellent," he said. "No chance of breakage, no matter how roughly it may be handled."
Savette was coming closer, as though to assist in the examination of the box. Cranston again turned away and went out into the hall. He kicked his portmanteau with his foot.
"That's all packed," he said. "We are ready to go. I just want to make sure that I have everything." He came back after a few moments' inspection in another room. Reaching the den, he picked up a light taboret that stood near the box. It had a deep top, and its octagonal interior was large enough to contain a considerable quantity of articles.
"Are you sure you don't want this?" quizzed Cranston. "It would fit nicely in the box. No chance of its breaking. With the way those sides are padded, I could take a trip in the box myself, without minding it."
"Well," said Savette thoughtfully, "I might take it — no, I don't believe so." Cranston placed the taboret beside the box. Again, Savette moved closer. Once more, Cranston turned away. His eyes were steady as he stared at the physician.
"What is the matter, doctor?" he questioned. "You appear to be a trifle pale. Are you feeling faint? I know — it is the stuffiness of this room. Come — let us go downstairs and see if the truck is there. The fresh air will do you good."
Savette was nerving himself for a quick action. This last suggestion interfered with his plans. He gave a sudden gasp, and began to stagger. Cranston turned to him in consternation.
"Let me help you, doctor—"
He held out his arms as Savette staggered against him. With his right hand, the physician clutched Cranston's shoulder. His left hand, unseen by the millionaire, crept stealthily from his pocket. Upward it moved, along Cranston's steadying arm.