“He would give you no security?”
Hayd’s tone denoted that he was keenly interested. The Shadow was completely covering the actual details of Harry’s call. This was good policy; for The Shadow was keeping his connection with Blouchet a secret.
“Silford is all right,” explained The Shadow, “but he is a nuisance. He has money, plenty of it, but he totally ignores the necessity of establishing credit when he travels. He comes in on his friends and wants a few thousand dollars. He is offended if they refuse him.
“Look at my position. I have only a few thousand dollars with me. If I give the money to Silford, it will mean inconvenience, getting more. Worst of all, the bounder has a habit of almost demanding money from you. He offers to pay interest on it. According to his view, anyone should jump at the chance.”
Hayd rumbled a chuckle; then spoke:
“Too bad you are not in the loan business, Cranston.”
“I wish sometimes that I followed such a profession,” said The Shadow, gloomily. “Silford is not the only wealthy pest that I have encountered. I run into them everywhere. Shanghai, Cairo, Bombay. Friends who have thousands of dollars in New York, but no cash in their pockets. I should like to find a remedy for such persons.”
“I can supply one in the case of Silford,” remarked Hayd. “When he comes in tomorrow, send him to my office.”
“No, indeed.” The Shadow shook his head. “If Silford saw that sign of yours, he would be through with me forever. It would be a cure, though. Hm-m-m. No — I cannot afford to lose a friend like Silford. He has good points as well as bad.”
“Tell him to come here in the evening,” put in Hayd. “I can arrange a loan for him, at the normal interest rate charged by local banking houses. Providing, of course, that he has either security, or your endorsement.”
“Maybe it would be better if I sent him to Durflee, the banker I met at the Delta Club. I would prefer that, Hayd. When Silford arrives tomorrow evening—”
“Durflee’s bank will be closed.”
“I had not thought of that. Very well, Hayd, I shall send him to you.”
THE SHADOW glanced at his watch. He decided that it was time to go back to the hotel. Hayd pressed a button and summoned a servant named Luder. He told him to have Allan bring the sport coupe.
Hayd and The Shadow strolled from the study through a living room; then out into the hall. The telephone rang. Hayd answered it. The Shadow looked inquiringly toward him.
“From the office,” chuckled Hayd. “Not for you this time, Cranston.” Then, across the wire, he added:
“Yes… What is it?… A false endorsement?.. Glad you found it out… Suppose you attend to it… Yes, tonight. It would be unwise to delay in such a matter… Good… Yes, that will be satisfactory…” The car was arriving at the front door. Hayd hung up and joined The Shadow. The loan company president grumbled as they walked out to the large portico that fronted the mansion.
“They try every trick to beat us,” asserted Hayd. “That’s the trouble with the loan business. The office just uncovered a case where a man falsified an endorsement. A criminal offense, if we cared to press it.
“That reminds me of something, Cranston. If you send Silford out here — or anyone else — be sure to call me beforehand. You are a man of wealth. Your signature may be known to forgers. But these scoundrels seldom have the nerve to fake a telephone call. I can recognize voices. I shall know yours when I hear it.”
The Shadow joined Allan in the coupe. The car rolled townward, speeding along streets where traffic was thin.
Fifteen minutes later, The Shadow stepped from the car. He was outside the hotel where Hayd had stopped for him before dinner. Entering the lobby, The Shadow found a telephone booth. He dialed a quick call to Andrew Blouchet’s apartment.
Tonight, The Shadow had learned facts that pleased him. He had gained double opportunity. First, through events at Blouchet’s; second, through observation at Hayd’s. He had found a way to halt the moves of crooks; to hold them inactive and uncertain until the morrow. Then, when the time for a showdown had arrived, he would have the place to meet them. A spot where men of crime would meet with opposition that they did not anticipate.
The final moves would be finished soon. This telephone call would assure that fact. In a sense, it would complete The Shadow’s preparation, even though there were more details to be handled within the next hour. Those, however, were deeds that The Shadow could accomplish with routine swiftness.
Persons who figured in the game had become unwitting pawns upon The Shadow’s board. Innocent or guilty, he intended to move them as he chose. Then would the stage be set for the final outcome. For The Shadow knew the issue.
CHAPTER XIV. THREADS IN THE NIGHT
HARRY VINCENT was still standing by the doorway that led to the front bedroom of Andrew Blouchet’s apartment. He had been waiting ever since he had made that call to The Shadow at Lester Hayd’s. In his call, Harry had summed the situation.
He had told of Andrew’s conversation with Fanchon; he had described his own impressions of the girl’s response. A keen observer, Harry had recognized that Andrew’s regard for the girl was reciprocated by Fanchon herself.
Fanchon knew that she had brought danger to Andrew. Though she had not given him a final solution to riddle of the ebony box, she had at least promised to divulge the secret later, if she could. It was plain that in the interim, Fanchon would have to talk with someone.
Someone whom she had either trusted or feared. For Harry had been prompt to discern the trace of troubled doubt that Fanchon had displayed. He had done his best to transfer that impression to The Shadow, even though the opportunity had been brief. Harry felt satisfied on that point.
His present worry concerned Carl Randon. The sleek-haired man had left soon after Harry had called The Shadow. Sooner than Harry had anticipated. In fact, Carl had been gone for nearly twenty minutes.
Half an hour would be the limit. Ten minutes more — Harry heard the telephone bell ring.
Music drowned it. Andrew was distant; he did not hear the ringing. Harry answered, closing the door from inside the bedroom. He reported quickly to The Shadow. Carl had left; and would soon return.
The Shadow gave prompt instructions. Harry set down the telephone, with the receiver off. He hurried out into the big room.
Jerry Bodwin was dancing with Fanchon Callier. Harry spoke to Jerry, telling him that he was wanted on the telephone. Jerry went in and answered. He came out a minute later, his face keen with excitement.
“A New York producer is in town,” he told Fanchon. “He wants to meet me, at the office. Can you come with me, Fanchon? It may mean a contract — you will have to type the details—”
“Very well,” responded the girl, with a nod. “But I must tell Mr. Blouchet that we cannot wait for Mr. Randon.”
“I shall tell him,” put in Harry, promptly. “You two had better hurry along, if it is important.”
“Tell Andrew we’ll be back,” remarked Jerry.
They left; Harry stopped Andrew, who was hurrying over. He explained that Jerry Bodwin had an appointment at his office. He added that both Jerry and Fanchon would be back.
Strolling to the front window. Harry saw Jerry and Fanchon hailing a taxicab that had made an opportune arrival upon the gloomy street. He spied a patrolman pause to note the car; then pace along. Officers were still on duty in the vicinity. The timely arrival of the cab looked like a coincidence; but it was not.
Harry knew that The Shadow had dispatched it from outside the hotel, which was only five minutes driving distance from Andrew’s.
Ten minutes passed. Carl Randon returned. The Shadow’s scheme had worked. Andrew told Carl that Jerry and Fanchon would soon come back. He mentioned that they were at the theater office. Carl seemed annoyed when he heard the news. Harry saw him go into the bedroom and close the door. He knew that Carl intended to make a telephone call.