“Glad to see you, Mr. Cranston,” he exclaimed. “I was going to call your hotel, to find out when you could visit my home. Are you free any evening this week?”
“I am not certain,” replied The Shadow, casually. “Suppose we make a tentative appointment, Mr. Hayd. But if you are busy—”
“No, no,” interjected Hayd. “Stay right where you are, Mr. Cranston. There is plenty of time to chat. Plenty of time. Ah! What is it, Muthel?”
The inquiry was to a bespectacled man who had entered. The fellow was one of the office clerks.
“Mr. Blouchet is here, sir,” informed Muthel. “Shall I tell him that you are busy?”
“No!” Hayd pounded the desk. “Tell him that I shall see him at once! As soon as I ring for you, Muthel.”
“Very well, sir.”
Hayd began to rummage upon the desk. He gathered up two sheets of paper that were inscribed with a fancy penmanship. An envelope fluttered from them and fell at The Shadow’s feet. He picked it up and returned it to Hayd, who noted the writing on it and thrust the papers within. Typewritten sheets were next; Hayd shoved them into their proper envelopes. He gathered other documents and put the lot into a wire rack, which he set aside on a corner table.
Hayd was clearing decks for action. Apparently he wanted more space on the desk so he could pound it more effectively. Hayd’s lips were tight. His eyes looked angry. He seated himself; then pressed a button.
Calming somewhat, he turned to The Shadow.
“Stay here, Mr. Cranston,” he suggested. “I shall only be a few moments. I have to deal with a young ne’er-do-well, who has taken advantage of my friendship. He deserves a reprimand.”
MUTHEL entered with Andrew Blouchet. The latter advanced with hand outstretched. Hayd waved him to a chair. Opening a desk drawer, the loan company president drew out a long flat envelope and slid it across the desk.
“There are your papers,” snapped Hayd. “We cannot renew your loan, Blouchet. The amount that you owe us will become collectable at once.”
“Why the sudden change of decision?” queried Andrew, opening the envelope. “I see nothing wrong with these, Mr. Hayd. Look at this” — he spread out a sheet of paper and pointed to the flowing signature — “it is Carl Randon’s endorsement. I understood it would be acceptable.”
“We do not know Mr. Randon,” returned Hayd, tartly. “I am not acquainted with the man. So far as I am concerned, he has no status whatsoever.”
“But he has contacts in New Orleans!” exclaimed Andrew. “He has given business references. He owns property here. He has accounts in three New Orleans banks—”
“And he is a friend of yours?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“That is sufficient,” declared Hayd. “Quite sufficient, Blouchet, to make his endorsement undesirable. We have no quarrel with this man Randon” — Hayd flattened both hands upon the desk — “but we have no confidence in you! I do not know Randon; but I do know you, Blouchet.”
“That’s just it,” remarked Andrew. “I thought we were friends. When I spoke to you last night, you were cordial—”
“At that time, yes,” interrupted Hayd. “But that was prior to your display of a quality with which I have no sympathy. My company does not grant loans to gamblers!”
Andrew stared; then understanding showed upon his face in the form of a wide grin.
“So that’s it,” he laughed. “You saw me going into the gaming room at the Delta Club. That explains it. I forgot that you were a narrow-minded old blatherskite!”
Hayd came to his feet and rammed the desk with an indignant fist.
“Such slurs are uncalled for, Blouchet!” he stormed. “It is not narrow-mindedness that colors my opinion! It is sound policy! Any man who can afford to gamble can also afford to pay his debts!”
“A good argument, Mr. Hayd. Therefore, a man who can afford to pay his debts can afford to gamble.”
“If he chooses, yes. Even though I would not approve of gambling under any circumstance. But since you can not afford to pay your debts —”
“ONE moment. Mr. Hayd.”
It was Andrew’s turn to interrupt. He, too, was on his feet. He was bringing a wallet from his pocket.
Hayd stared while Andrew paused and drew forth a thin sheaf of crisp bank notes. One by one, Andrew counted off ten bills, each of a hundred-dollar denomination.
“One thousand dollars,” chuckled Andrew. “I have already paid the interest charges. I was extending my loan, Mr. Hayd, only that your company might still have me as a customer. That was simply my way of expressing my appreciation for the friendly treatment you once gave me.”
“You — you upstart!” blurted Hayd. “Lucky at the gaming table, eh? Bringing your spoils into my office, to ridicule me.”
“Wrong again,” laughed Andrew. “I did not win last night. I lost. I told you a moment ago that I would not have gambled if I could not have afforded it.”
Hayd was speechless.
“Take your cash,” jeered Andrew. “I’m through with this concern. I’ve been squeezed like others; but no longer. Look for other suckers who will fall for your smug racket. Maybe they’ll listen to your bunk about how you help the deserving man who needs encouragement. Yes, you help the deserving man, all right. You help him to stay as he is — deserving, but broke!”
Hayd was no longer paying attention to the tirade. He was jabbing the bell button, ringing for Muthel. The secretary appeared.
“Show Mr. Blouchet out!” boomed Hayd. “I am through with him, Muthel!”
“Not yet,” gibed Andrew. “Not until you give me a receipt for my money.”
“You can get that at the outside office,” stormed Hayd. “Leave this office at once!” Still laughing. Andrew picked up the money and walked out with Muthel. Hayd sank back in his chair and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. He looked toward The Shadow.
“This was most disturbing, Mr. Cranston,” said Hayd. “Most disturbing! It is seldom that we have scenes like this. I must admit that Blouchet’s action was unprecedented. I have never known a man to flaunt money in our faces.
“Sometimes, eccentric persons become angered because they are hopelessly in debt. Poor beggars! It is hard to blame them. But our interest rates are not excessive. Our discount plan is designed to show us only a fair profit. We do not demand security. We deal on endorsements only. It is precarious; we have to charge more than an ordinary interest rate.
“I keep a private fund of my own — one that we do not advertise. It is for the benefit of those borrowers who have shown themselves trustworthy. I have extended loans with interest as low as five per cent per annum, with no endorsement whatever, for men who have deserved it. Often, I have ordered certain loans written off the books, to help out certain unfortunate borrowers.
“But we must deal firmly with those who are not trustworthy.” Hayd pounded the desk emphatically with each word. “No matter how good a man’s credit may be, I will not deal with him if he is a wastrel, or a gambler!”
The Shadow was nodding as he rose from his chair and glanced at his watch. Hayd stepped from behind the desk and shook hands. The Shadow remarked that it was late; that he would telephone Hayd tomorrow. The loan company president conducted him to the door of the private office.
THE outside room was a large one. Several persons were lined up in front of a grilled window, paying interest on their loans. A rail kept them in line. As Hayd closed his office door, The Shadow, now in the main room, saw Andrew Blouchet in line. Only one customer was ahead of him.
The Shadow paused to watch Andrew thrust his crisp bills upon the ledge of the grilled window. He spread the money triumphantly. The Shadow noted the bills as the young man counted them. He also observed another person who eyed the money. This was a girl, next in line to Andrew.