The blond man frowned thoughtfully.
“I wouldn’t call it evidence. Not so far as the Commission was concerned. Callum took me into his study. He opened his safe and got out a bundle of papers. They were freight records, and they tended to show the volume of Randt’s business. But they did not directly concern the complaint I was investigating.”
“Those records,” said Stan musingly. “Did Callum hand them over to you?”
“No. He hardly allowed me to touch them,” said Worthington. “I got the idea he intended to wring a lot of money out of someone for them — either Kendall or Randt. The whole thing had a fishy look to me.”
“Did he put them back in the safe, then?”
“No, not that, either. My recollection is that they remained on the desk. I remember he covered them with a paperweight. There was quite a draught from the window.”
Stan said, “You stayed there how long?”
“About twenty minutes, more or less. It was longer than I wanted to stay,” muttered the blond man. “Callum was very eager for the FTC to take action against Randt. You can see why. He thought it would make those papers of his just so much more valuable.”
Stan reflected. “You must have left the house five or ten minutes before the shooting occurred.”
“Yes. I judge so, by the newspaper accounts.”
“And tonight you went to see Julius Randt?”
“Correct,” nodded Worthington. “I went there early in the evening, because l understood he received no one during the day. It had something to do with his health — asthma, I think.”
“Why did you go to him?”
“It was routine,” said Worthington, “I asked Mr. Randt about the complaint. He denied it. In fact, he all but had me thrown out of his house. He accused me of being in league with Kendall and Callum.”
“Hot-headed, eh?”
“Of course, it was a serious matter for him,” the blond man said quietly. “If anything like that could be proved, it would ruin the company. No retailer would ever take chances on stocking a Randt product again.”
“Yeah,” Stan said. “Is it that bad?”
Worthington’s fingers drummed slowly on the packing box. “It is every bit as bad as that. You can see why I wanted to keep the investigation secret. I didn’t want to start any rumors until I knew all the facts.”
He paused for a moment, then said: “Kendall’s complaint charged the Randt company with fraud. The Randt camera is advertised to be equipped with a Clarex lens. Kendall claims that a large percentage of the output is really equipped with a less expensive and inferior Japanese lens.”
This interested Stan, He reflected that Judge Elmore had called Callum’s suit absurd, because the reported camera sales corresponded exactly with the purchases of Clarex lenses. But if some of the cameras were equipped with another lens, then the stockholders were certainly being rooked.
“Well,” he asked, “is that possible?”
Worthington nodded.
“Oh, yes. Only an expert could tell the difference — at first. But these inferior lenses are put together — they consist of a number of pieces of glass, you know — with a synthetic cement in. stead of balsam. After a year or so, the stuff discolors badly. And the lens is then worthless.”
Stan said. “Rut the ordinary purchaser wouldn’t find that out for a year or so?”
“No. By that time, Randt could have rolled up huge profits. He could undersell Kendall — which was what Kendall kicked about. He would destroy the reputation of the Clarex product. And he would bilk a great many camera buyers.”
“Yes, it sounds like a clever racket,” said Stan. “But how did Kendall get wise to it?”
The blond man explained: “He showed me a collection of Randt cameras in his office. The lenses were inferior, all right. But that proved nothing. Kendall might have switched them himself. You’d be surprised the gags these fellows will think up, in order to persuade the FTC to crack down on a competitor.”
“I can imagine.”
“I don’t have to imagine. I’ve seen it.”
Both men laughed softly.
“So,” continued Worthington, “I realized after my talk with Randt that I wouldn’t get any cooperation out of his crowd. I went back to my hotel, and found a wire from the San Francisco office. They had checked with the Customs along the coast. Randt had never imported any lenses openly. If he used any, they were smuggled into this country.”
“Oh!”
“Oh is right,” said the blond man. “And if that was his game, he’d try to cover up after talking to me. I wanted to get into the plant here. It would be illegal, but I didn’t mind chancing that.”
“Yes, but how did you get in?”
Worthington smiled. “Through the gate. A fellow drove in ahead of me. I slipped through before he parked his car in the yard and came back to lock up again.”
Followed Elmore in, Stan decided.
He said, “You found something, didn’t you?”
“Plenty!” the blond man agreed. “These wooden boxes, Baxter! Each of them holds a gross of those Japanese lenses! You can figure it out for yourself.”
He chuckled: the elation passed quickly, though.
“I wonder,” he said, “what possessed Randt. A man of his wealth and personal standing in such a racket!”
Stan’s lips pressed into a narrow straightness.
“You’ll never know.”
“What—?” he exclaimed.
“He’s dead.”
Worthington flinched a bit. “You mean, he took that way out?”
“He was shot — murdered.”
They looked at each other steadily.
Worthington moistened his lips. “It’s a funny thing. I had a feeling — almost a physical feeling. In here, tonight.”
Stan grunted. “Well?”
“Of course, I don’t believe in spiritualism, or anything like that,” the blond man said hastily. “But I thought I heard — well, a groaning sound. I flashed the light out into the halt just before you came in.”
He broke off, chuckled.
“But I’m talking nonsense. It was you I heard moving around in the building.”
Stan Baxter said, “Not me! Listen! Do you hear that?”
Chapter XIV
A Man’s Secret
They froze to attention. For a long moment, they heard nothing at all. Then the sound repeated itself — an eerie, muffled, painful groan.
“That’s it!” Worthington breathed. “It wasn’t so loud before. We’d better look into this, Baxter!”
He snatched the electric torch from the packing box and started across the shipping room.
“No! Not that way.”
The blond man halted, looked around in surprise. Stan’s lean face was an enigmatic mask in the shadows back of the flashbeam.
“We won’t be decoyed through that door,” Stan said grimly. “Callum made that mistake. Randt opened a door, too. It’s damned unhealthy.”
“You don’t think—”
“That anyone would take a potshot at us?” Stan finished the other’s thought. “Yes, I do. I’m certain of it.”
As the FTC man stared, the groan wrenched the silence again.
“It’s under us!” Worthington gasped.
“Uh-huh. Throw the light around here once.”
The circular spot of white enlarged as it followed the wall.
Stan said, “There!”
He peered at the large carrier half which traversed the opposite end of the room. The belt entered through an aperture in the side wall, and traveled above a long workbench.
The utility of the device was obvious. The belt came from the assembly department, bringing the completed cameras to the bench where they were packed into individual boxes, replaced on the belt, and then finally stowed into the shipping cartons.