“But if he does appear here” — Venturi’s nervous face became tense and grim — “then it must be a battle to the death. Not only must we end the career of this fiend; we must also try to recover the funds that he has already stolen. Think of it! Monsieur Ponjeau’s dream of international prosperity — about to become a reality — shattered by a murderer!”
ROBERTS FARADAY held up his hand in interruption.
“Signor Venturi,” he declared, “we must not overlook any possibility. We are dealing with a shrewd schemer. You are right — we must prepare for him, to-morrow night. If he comes, it will mean a battle; but if he fails to come — what then? How will you proceed?”
“I shall notify Monsieur Ponjeau,” stated Venturi. “Look, sir” — Venturi paused to draw a paper from his pocket — “this is the very cablegram that I shall send him. It says: ‘The chain is broken. All is safe.’ In return, I shall receive the names of the other men, one by one. I shall become the new emissary. With my credentials, I shall go the rounds, in place of the man who was slain.”
“But if the enemy reappears?”
“I shall be prepared for him. Monsieur Ponjeau places full reliance in me; but he will take no chances. When he receives this message, he will dispatch secret agents to aid me. They will be on hand — watching — guarding — ready to frustrate all enemies. We did not need them when we thought that secrecy was in operation.”
“I understand,” said Faraday, with a nod. “You are alone at present; but you can obtain powerful aid. This cablegram covers matters if the crook does not appear. But suppose, Signor Venturi, that you and I are able, to-morrow night, to apprehend this man whom you term a fiend. Suppose that we should end his evil career?”
Victor Venturi’s eyes were gleaming at the happy thought. From his pocket, he drew forth another paper and showed the message to the millionaire.
“This coded message,” explained Venturi, “states that our enemy is dead. I hope to send it to Monsieur Ponjeau, to-morrow night. Should Monsieur Ponjeau receive this message, he will leave all to me. There will be no need for secret agents to protect me. I shall simply keep the regular appointments upon receiving the list from Monsieur Ponjeau.
“Upon receiving the list” — Venturi was repeating the words slowly — “unless I do not need the list. It would be my delight, Mr. Faraday, to take the credentials and the list from the fiend himself. He will have them with him if he comes here to collect your share to-morrow night.”
“If he comes to-morrow night,” said Faraday softly. “Do you think, Signor Venturi, that he might come before to-morrow night?”
Venturi’s brow clouded. This suggestion was something that the Italian had not considered. Venturi shifted uneasily in his chair; despite his optimism, he was forced to consider the possibility that Faraday had offered.
“We are in danger,” added the millionaire. “If the enemy has watched you closely, Signor Venturi, he may know that you are here at present. You have explained important facts to me, signor; I, in turn, shall explain some to you.
“I received a letter from Monsieur Ponjeau yesterday. He mentioned matters which I was instructed to tell to you. Acting upon his information, I was fortunate enough to gather additional data. I shall tell you, now, the exact dangers which we face.”
From a desk drawer, Faraday withdrew several sheets of crinkling paper, in different sizes and colors. Referring to these documents, the millionaire began to speak in a calm, steady voice. Victor Venturi listened to the words in amazement.
Other men were listening also. Bart Shallock and Bumps Jaffrey were in readiness, beyond the door — waiting there, to serve the cause of Crix!
CHAPTER XX
ENTER CRIX
“MY wealth,” began Roberts Faraday, glancing steadily at Venturi, “has been gained through a knowledge of international affairs. It was because of my reputation for big business transactions with foreign countries that Monsieur Ponjeau came to me. He felt sure that I would be interested in the development of his World Court of Industry.
“I agreed to aid Monsieur Ponjeau. I also warned him. Well did I know that there were sharp men of crime who would be ready to prey upon his plan. In addition to my warning, I also made investigations for my own protection. I learned the identity of a supercrook whom we well might fear.
“You understand, signor, that I travel frequently abroad. In fact, I but recently returned from such a trip. Knowing my ability to detect the plans of schemers, Monsieur Ponjeau, in this letter” — Faraday was raising one sheet of paper — “told me the measures that he took to send a secret emissary to the United States. That information, signor, fits in with facts that I had gained regarding the cleverest of crooks. The man whom we must fear, signor, is one who calls himself Crix.”
Venturi blinked as he heard the unusual name. It was evidently new to the Italian. The door across the room moved slightly. Venturi did not see it, for his back was turned. Roberts Faraday, on his part, was glancing at the papers which he held in his hand.
“Aristide Ponjeau,” resumed Faraday, “had, as a trusted aid, a German named Baron Hugo von Tollsburg. Months ago, Ponjeau planned to send Von Tollsburg to the United States to serve as his secret emissary. He has left the preparations to Von Tollsburg. The German, through his friend, Captain Heinrich von Werndorff, planned a secret trip aboard the dirigible Munchen.
“Baron von Tollsburg set out upon that voyage. He carried credentials, and the names of the men whom he was to see. Smuggled safely into America, he would be able to act without molestation. But something has gone wrong. The crook who is making the collections has been doing so as Baron von Tollsburg.”
“A traitor?” hissed Venturi.
“Von Tollsburg?” questioned Faraday. “No, signor, I believe that the German was honest. He would not have been forced to kill Winston Collister in making the first collection. There is only one solution. The true Von Tollsburg never reached America. His plans were discovered by none other than Crix.
“We can be sure that Crix was aboard that dirigible also. He slew Von Tollsburg. He took the baron’s papers. He — Crix — visited Winston Collister, and later, Sturgis Bosworth. They were the first two upon Von Tollsburg’s list. I, signor, am the third.”
“And therefore Crix—”
“Crix is seeking millions.”
“He may come here to-morrow night!”
“He will be here to-morrow night,” responded Faraday, in a quiet tone. “A man of his ability — one whose identity is entirely unknown — will miss no opportunity. Crix has gathered four millions already; he will not balk at the chance to gain the wealth that still remains at large.”
“Crix!” Venturi repeated the name. “Crix — you are sure that he is the man who has done these crimes?”
“I am positive of it,” said Faraday, referring to the papers, and shifting them in the stack.
“Crix!” again repeated Venturi. “You are sure he is the enemy. But who can the other be — the one who aided me in my escape the one who sent me to the Cafe Bella Napoli?”
ROBERTS FARADAY looked up, a questioning gleam in his eyes. This was a matter that Victor Venturi had not mentioned before. The Italian saw Faraday’s look, and hastened to explain.