“Indeed,” remarked Cranston quietly. “Then, Mr. Edkins, you are probably not interested in the invention which I have promised to finance. Under the circumstances—”
“No, no!” exclaimed Edkins, as he saw his guest rising to leave. “I am intensely interested, Mr. Cranston. It would be most unfortunate if either one of us should be investing money to a futile purpose.”
“Events will show that,” decided Cranston in his easy tone. “I have no desire, Mr. Edkins, to cause you financial loss. Nevertheless, I feel that my position is more desirable than yours. I am dealing with a legitimate specialist in investments. Rutledge Mann has no desire to conceal his name. You, however, are concerned with a wild-cat promoter who prefers to keep under cover. I cannot compliment you on your choice, Mr. Edkins; however, I wish you all possible success.”
There was a sting to Cranston’s words. They made Holbrook Edkins uncomfortable. Mechanically, Edkins gripped the hand which his visitor extended. Then, as Cranston turned toward the door, the bluff-faced man bounded forward.
“Wait!” he exclaimed. “We must talk this over. Perhaps I have made a serious mistake. I may need your advice, Mr. Cranston. You have opened my eyes.”
“Any one,” returned Cranston quietly, “makes a mistake in dealing with a person who prefers to keep his identity secret. Naturally, I do not ask you to abrogate any agreement which you have made with this unknown individual. I prefer to terminate our own negotiations.”
“Let me talk to you,” pleaded Edkins. “I want you to hear the circumstances, then give me your fair opinion. This means much to me, Mr. Cranston!”
WITH a slight smile, the visitor consented to remain. Holbrook Edkins nervously lighted a fresh cigarette.
Then, in an eager voice, he began his story.
“This man,” he said, “offered me an opportunity to invest in a patented invention which seemed good. I did so — more than two years ago — and made money. He repeated with a similar offer, one year ago. It, too, resulted in financial gain.
“Finally, this promoter offered me a new proposition. In this very room — in fact, Vel—” Edkins caught himself. “This promoter was seated in the very chair which you are occupying. He gave me the details of an X-ray which he claimed would revolutionize all existing appliances.
“I agreed to the preliminary financing. It was his job to coax along the inventor — whom I have never met. Matters have been progressing nicely, but slowly. The promoter has visited me occasionally; in fact, I expect to hear from him either tonight or tomorrow. Meanwhile, I learned of the invention which Rutledge Mann is placing on the market.”
“I understand,” rejoined Cranston. “Nevertheless, your story does not change the circumstances. I still feel that you are making a mistake in dealing with so speculative a promoter.”
“The man is convincing,” declared Edkins. “He has other inventors on his private list. He states that he will pyramid each enterprise, until the final one, financed by money which I have accumulated, will exceed all others.”
“Why does he not propose them now?”
“Because I am the only person who has shown the willingness to invest in what he terms futuristic enterprises. My capital is somewhat limited. If I could pool my resources with other men of vision—”
Edkins paused suddenly as he caught the gleam which appeared in Cranston’s brilliant eyes. The bluff-faced man did not know that his visitor’s expression was a feigned one. Edkins thought that Cranston had given a sign of intense interest in the proposition which was now being discussed.
“Perhaps,” ventured Edkins, “you might be interested in such enterprises, Mr. Cranston. Would you like to meet the promoter whom I have just mentioned?”
“Scarcely,” returned Cranston in a languid tone, his feigned interest suddenly waning. “I am not accustomed, Mr. Edkins, to holding conference with persons without knowing their names before I meet them.”
“I can tell you this man’s name,” assured Edkins, “provided that you will not mention it to any other person. You understand, of course, that my negotiations have all been secret. If I have your assurance—”
Cranston appeared reluctant; then, with an air of indifference, he nodded slowly. Edkins took the sign as one of agreement. In his anxiety to impress Cranston, he gave the information.
“The promoter’s name,” he announced, “is Eric Veldon. Beyond that, I know nothing concerning him. There is no place where he can be located. I expect to hear from him; when I do, I shall tell him that you would like to meet him.”
“No,” responded Cranston, in a steady tone. “That will not be necessary. I should not like to disappoint you, if something prevented me from the meeting. Suppose, Mr. Edkins, that you merely arrange to have Eric Veldon call to see you. Then send me word of the meeting time. I shall be here if possible. Let my arrival be his first knowledge of my interest in the matter.”
Holbrook Edkins acknowledged the wisdom of Cranston’s decision. The bluff-faced millionaire tossed his consumed cigarette in the fireplace. As he turn to speak again, there was a rap at the door. The servant entered to announce that Mr. Cranston was wanted on the telephone.
EDKINS accompanied Lamont Cranston downstairs. He heard his guest conduct a short conversation.
The words were meaningless; evidently Cranston was receiving some message. This proved to be the case.
“I must go back to the Cobalt Club,” announced Cranston, as he hung up the receiver. “I have just received a call regarding an important appointment which I have been expecting for some time. I shall hear from you, Mr. Edkins, after you have talked with Eric Veldon.”
“Promptly,” assured Edkins.
After a parting handshake, Cranston left by the front door. Holbrook Edkins watched him enter a trim coupe. He saw the car drive away. But Edkins did not observe what occurred within the automobile.
In the darkness of the coupe, Lamont Cranston underwent a quick transformation. His hand drew a mass of black cloth from an opened bag upon the seat. The folds of a dark cloak spread over his seated form.
A broad-brimmed slouch hat settled upon his head. Heavy automatics went beneath his cloak.
Only the eyes of Lamont Cranston remained visible. They were the keen eyes which Holbrook Edkins had noted; but, from the darkness, they burned with vivid light as they gazed along the street ahead.
Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. A weird laugh rippled from his unseen lips. Tonight, The Shadow had learned the identity of the man whom he sought — Eric Veldon, the superfiend who dealt in murder.
More than that, The Shadow had received a message which promised quick activity. He was starting on a mission which might lead him to the hidden lair of the very enemy whose name he now knew!
The coupe traveled swiftly as it reached an avenue. The firm hands of The Shadow were upon the wheel.
The eyes of The Shadow glowed as they looked ahead. The Shadow’s creepy whisper again formed its sibilant laugh!
CHAPTER XV. MINIONS OF THE FIEND
AT the moment when Lamont Cranston was leaving the home of Holbrook Edkins, Cliff Marsland, agent of The Shadow, was entering the side door of an old garage in northern Manhattan. Tonight, Cliff expected important developments.
He had come to this spot with Punks Gumbert. Cliff and the mealy-mouthed gangster were to meet Duke Scurley in the garage, which served as a rendezvous for the racketeer’s mob.
Fortunately, they had arrived ahead of Duke and his gang. That had given Cliff time to saunter out to a cigar store and buy a pack of cigarettes. At the store, he had also telephoned to Burbank.
Cliff was thinking of the call that he had made. He had been able to inform Burbank of but one potent fact: Duke Scurley intended to put someone on the spot. The mob — with Cliff as a member — was going out from the rendezvous. They would pick up some victim and take the unfortunate man for a ride which would end, without doubt, at the spot where Duke Scurley deposited all his victims.