The faces of the three listeners had sobered. They began to buzz among themselves. Zurick was questioning the others; they were nodding approval as he made suggestions that Mallan could not hear.
The detective sat back and watched the gold rings glimmer. At last, Zurick spoke.
“Mallan,” he said, “we three men are philanthropists. We have devoted our lives to aiding those who are in want. Our motives are of the highest. The very highest. There is one other man who was formerly associated with us. He, too, is a philanthropist. His name is Elwood Phraytag.”
“I’ve heard of him,” nodded Mallan. “Blind fellow, ain’t he? Gave some dough to an institute. Wanted to help others like himself.”
“That is correct,” stated Zurick. “However, Phraytag has now retired from active pursuits. He no longer attends the meeting of our group. He is one of us; but” — Zurick pondered, then added — “we may say that his period of usefulness is ended.”
“I get you,” returned Mallan.
“Some time ago,” resumed Zurick, “we acquired certain funds that once belonged to Tobias Dolger. Those funds must be protected. We do not care to have any one know of them, particularly the heirs to the estate.”
“That’s simple enough,” agreed Mallan. “There ain’t much dough for those Dolger boys, is there?”
“No,” stated Zurick, coldly, “but that is our concern, not yours. The point, Mallan, is that we do not care to have any one trace the funds in question. We three — Laverock, Kent and myself — can not be directly traced. But there is one man whose part in the acquisition of the funds might be learned.”
“Who’s that? Phraytag?”
“Yes. He conducted the actual negotiations. What is more, he committed an indiscretion. He gave a certain clue to the jeweler, Philip Lyken. Hence Phraytag might be traced through Lyken.”
“And you fellows through Phraytag.”
“Yes. Therefore” — Zurick wagged a finger — “we must see to it that the Dolgers learn nothing from Lyken. Your report, Mallan, indicates that they are on the trail but that they have not yet learned what they want to know. We are leaving it to you to see that they get no further.”
MALLAN pondered. He scratched his head as he began to picture the jewelry store. He had seen Lyken; he had learned much about the man and his shop. He was considering just what methods the three philanthropists would accept.
“There are various measures,” stated Zurick, in his harsh crackle, “that might be used to deal with Lyken. One is bribery. That has already been used, in a sense, to keep him silent.
“The second is to approach him; either through offers of cash or through the direct threat to make him yield his secret. You could do that, Mallan. If Lyken would refuse to talk to you, even under pressure, it would stand that he would not talk to the Dolgers.
“Should that test be undesirable, or should it fail, there is a third alternative. We could adopt some measure that would prevent Lyken from again meeting the Dolgers. That, in the final analysis, would be the most effective. However, it presents certain problems. My experience, nevertheless” — Zurick’s tone was withering — “has taught me that the most difficult problems can invariably be solved.”
Guy Laverock arose. The others became silent. Laverock nodded to Kent, who also prepared for his departure. As spokesman for the two, Laverock turned to Zurick.
“Suppose, Lucius,” rumbled Laverock, “that we leave you with Mallan. Alone, the two of you can certainly strike upon the proper method to deal with Lyken.”
“We can rely upon your discretion, Lucius,” wheezed Kent, “and Mallan, by his past history, certainly appears to be a man well-fitted to accomplish whatever is required of him.”
“Spare no expense,” added Laverock, as he reached the door and opened it.
“Much is at stake,” reminded Kent.
The two departed, closing the door behind them. Timothy appeared and helped the two philanthropists into their hats and coats. He showed them to the door; then went into the parlor and sat sedately in a chair to await a call from his master.
TWENTY minutes later, Timothy heard the study door open. He arose and hurried in that direction.
Lucius Zurick had finished his conference with Ed Mallan. He was making a final statement to the detective.
“It is only half past eight,” said Zurick. “It is early, Mallan. I advise you to act tonight.”
“Sure thing!” grinned Mallan.
Zurick smiled dryly as he watched Timothy show the detective to the door. When the pair reached the vestibule, the philanthropist went back into his study. Hence he did not see the friendly punch that Mallan gave the servant on departing.
“Good night, Tim,” chuckled the detective. “See you later, old socks.”
There was reason for Mallan’s jocularity. The detective was still grinning when he hailed a cab. Mallan was ready for the task that lay before him; and he had a right to be. For his left hand, thrust deep in the pocket of his coat, was crinkling a thick wad of bank notes. Cash that he had received from Lucius Zurick.
CHAPTER V. IN THE DARK
PHILIP LYKEN’S jewelry store was located in a secluded neighborhood. It occupied a two-story building; its windows were fitted with bars. This feature applied to basement and second story, as well as ground floor.
The building formed a portion of a solid row of houses; in back was a cement passage that separated the row from the houses on the next street. The buildings in back were more pretentious. They were detached structures, with side passages between them.
Although Ed Mallan had been advised to pay an early visit to Lyken’s place, it was after ten o’clock when the private detective arrived in the vicinity. Darkness pervaded the street in front of Lyken’s.
Mallan, strolling along the opposite side of the thoroughfare, came to a stop as he studied the jeweler’s abode.
All the front windows were dark. That fact did not trouble Ed Mallan. The jewelry shop was closed; the front room, upstairs, was Lyken’s office. The fact that the second story was unlighted proved that the jeweler had no visitors. Lyken, if he had not yet retired, would be in the rear room.
Mallan finished a half-smoked cigar, then sauntered in the direction of the corner. He crossed the street and sidled along toward the next block.
Mallan had adopted the inconspicuous manner of a chance passer; but his eyes were busy. Across the side street, the dick noted a rakish touring car parked by the curb.
Reaching the rear street, the dick walked swiftly for one block; then came to a stop as he neared the corner. On the other side street he noted a second car, very much like the first.
Mallan turned about and walked along until he reached a space between two houses, almost directly in back of Lyken’s. He entered the passage and moved inward. He reached a spot, halfway along, from which he could view the rear windows of the jeweler’s second story. Those windows, like the front ones, were dark. Lyken had retired. Mallan waited.
DIRECTLY beneath the windows that the detective had observed from a distance of fifty feet, two men were at work in the darkness. One was shielding the rays of a flashlight while the other used a sharp saw upon the bars of a basement window.
The rays of the light showed the square features of the man who held it. An evil smile played upon twisted lips. The man with the flashlight was Hoot Shelling. The crook’s grin showed admiration for the work that his companion was performing.
“How’s that, Hoot?” came a whispered question, as the saw edged through another bar. “There ain’t many guys can say they saw Greasy Karn chisel his way into a joint. Keep that light close, Hoot. This is the last bar.”