“To speculators, however, such an issue would not have been attractive. Marrick is as great a speculator as the banking laws permit. The only answer that I can give is that he must have tried to stabilize his speculations by purchases of solid securities. That may be the reason for his acquisition of the Garaucan bonds.”
Another pause. The tenseness still existed. This time, Commissioner Barth put a statement — not a question.
“You are very fair to Marrick,” said Barth to Hildreth. “You are giving him the benefit of a definite doubt. I, however, am no longer a banker. I am police commissioner. It is my duty to follow up suspicions.
“I hold a suspicion, so far as Dunwood Marrick is concerned. Your statements, Mr. Hildreth, confirm my suspicion. Gentlemen, what I have to say is in confidence. To me, Marrick’s action looks like a bold gesture to cover up the truth.
“I hold to the belief that Marrick could be the man behind the fraudulent bond issue. He could have placed two millions into the trust funds under his personal jurisdiction, taking out bona fide securities in their place.
“Two millions of easy profit. Investments that he could have explained later, because they looked good at the time he made them. But Weston’s investigation — the suicide of Sigby Rund — Weston’s departure for Garauca— all those facts were damaging.
“Presuming that Marrick backed the swindle, he has made the best stroke possible to cover up his work. He is pretending to take a loss of two millions — in unselfish fashion — and all the while he is merely sacrificing bonds that cost him nothing!”
Awed silence followed Barth’s denunciation. Even Tobias Hildreth, the conservative who disliked Marrick as a radical, seemed too strained to speak. Barth’s statement bore all the ear-marks of a direct accusation against Dunwood Marrick.
THE new commissioner realized that he had been precipitous. As the silence continued, he decided to temper his remarks. He turned to Hildreth as a beginning.
“You must understand,” declared Barth, “that what I have said was merely a presentation of possibilities. My remarks were inspired by your own. You seemed to lean backward in your effort to be fair to Marrick. So I went to the opposite extreme.
“I wanted to show that Marrick’s action to-day could be other than an unselfish effort to make amends for a mistake and to save an honest reputation. It would be the work of a clever schemer, choosing a shrewd way in which to bury a skeleton of the past. I do not intend to accuse Dunwood Marrick. I do intend to watch him.”
The tenseness was relieved. The group began to buzz. Hildreth, nodding his agreement with Barth’s statement, put a fair and definite statement to the commissioner.
“You are wise to watch Marrick,” he declared, “because his methods are radical. He is a man who has sustained losses — almost always through speculative enterprises — but he has a way of pyramiding to make good what he has lost.”
“Ah! You think, then, that if he has really lost two millions he will produce some scheme to recoup that sum?”
“I know that he will do so. If he sits back, contented, your suspicions will be justified. But if he rallies, you will know that he is making good a misfortune.”
“An excellent point, Mr. Hildreth. One that I shall remember. Of course, there is one factor that you have seemed to ignore.”
“What is that?”
“If Marrick is crafty, he will try to recoup simply to make it look as though his loss was genuine.”
“I believe you are right.” Hildreth nodded solemnly. “That did not occur to me, commissioner. Well, then, I must confess myself unable to advise you.”
“You have advised me enough,” smiled Barth, in crafty fashion. “Your remarks brought out my own opinions. Though you seemed unwilling, you were forced to agree that I might be right regarding Marrick. The man will bear watching.”
“I agree heartily on that point.”
Conversation lulled. Wally Wilking stepped forward and spoke to Tobias Hildreth. The banker frowned.
“To see me regarding money?” he questioned. “I have told you, Wilking, that you are over-spending. You have not reduced the amounts you borrowed.”
Wilking mumbled a few words more; Hildreth still frowned, but nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “If you really think you will be able to manage better, I shall talk to you.”
“To-night?”
“Well — for a short while. A little later.”
“Suppose I go in your study and wait there?”
“Very well.”
Hildreth seemed loath with his “very well,” but he was anxious to get rid of Wally for the present. The young man strolled off through the library, lighting another cigarette. Among the guests, one man had keenly noted his speech with Hildreth. This observer was Lamont Cranston.
A few minutes later, the tall visitor drifted toward the hall. There he noted a passage toward the rear of the house. In strange, uncanny fashion, he headed in that direction. Not one of half a dozen persons saw him blend with the darkness of the passage.
LAMONT CRANSTON became a gliding figure. Though still in evening attire, he was virtually The Shadow in appearance and action. He came to an obscure door. He turned the knob. The barrier opened imperceptibly. The burning eyes of The Shadow peered through a narrow slit, into Tobias Hildreth’s study.
There was a closed door at the front of the room. This led into the library. The far wall had windows with closed iron shutters. The rear wall showed the heavy door of a small vault. In the center of the room was a massive desk. It was beside this that Wally Wilking stood.
The young man had laid aside his cigarette holder. Smoothly, yet swiftly, he was going through the contents of a desk drawer. The Shadow watched him complete an examination of papers. Wilking began upon a second drawer. Suddenly, he slid papers out of sight, closed the drawer with his knee and picked up cigarette holder. He was lighting a cigarette when the door from the library opened.
It was Claire Hildreth. The girl seemed angry and reproving. Wally protested that he had business with her uncle; that Tobias Hildreth was coming here to see him. At last, he yielded to the girl’s persuasion.
They prepared to go back through the library.
The Shadow’s door had closed. When Wally Wilking and Claire Hildreth appeared in the living room, Lamont Cranston was strolling in from the hall. He saw Wally stop to speak to Hildreth. He caught the young man’s words.
“Sorry, sir,” said Wally. “I can’t see you to-night, on account of Claire. I’ll drop in at the bank to-morrow afternoon.”
“Can’t see me!” snorted Hildreth, when Wally had walked away with Claire. “Humph! I didn’t want to see him. He wanted to see me. These young upstarts, with their snippy ways!”
Shortly afterward, Lamont Cranston and Wainwright Barth departed from Tobias Hildreth’s. They were going to the exclusive Cobalt Club, where both were members. As they rode along in Cranston’s limousine, the new commissioner talked effusively.
He was pleased with Hildreth’s opinions. He felt that he had learned something to-night. As he chatted, he expressed the belief that he would soon get at the root of the swindling enterprise which had marked the short history of the Garaucan bonds.
Lamont Cranston made no comment. His lips wore a thin, knowing smile. For he — as The Shadow — was the one who had made a real discovery; not through discourse, but through observation.
The Shadow had spotted Wally Wilking. He had seen purpose in the society man’s indolence. He had watched Wally Wilking at work. The Shadow — not Wainwright Barth — was the one who had gained a trail.
CHAPTER VII. MINIONS MOVE
PITCH BLACKNESS pervaded a silent room. Though it was brilliant afternoon in Manhattan, no rays of daylight filtered to this unseen abode. Illumination came only when a sharp click resounded in the darkness.