For Firth had already profited by learning Rex Brodford’s intention. He had made a prompt call by telephone, without Rex’s knowledge. A step had been made toward the culmination of some hidden, insidious scheme.
That smile which slowly faded from the lips of Firth boded ill for Rex Brodford and his future plans.
CHAPTER II. THE TELEPHONE CLUE
AT half past four the next afternoon, a sallow-faced man was standing by the window of a lofty hotel room, looking idly out across Manhattan. With eyes that blinked beady from between slitted lids; with dark, pointed mustache trimmed to a thin line, this individual exhibited a shrewd appearance.
From the gloating smile that showed upon his pasty lips, the sallow man would have impressed an observer as being a schemer deluxe. Alone in this room, he had no reason to veil his true type. Craftiness showed unrestricted on his jaundice-tinged countenance.
This man was James Jubal, star promoter of the fading Chalice Gold Mine. He was the swindler whom Cortland Laspar had mentioned to Rex Brodford, less than twenty-four hours ago.
Retaining his distorted smile, Jubal ran long-nailed fingers through a crop of sleek, black hair. He chuckled with contempt as he viewed the pygmy figures of the throngs in the streets below. James Jubal was a man with but little human sympathy. People, to him, were nothing more than potential victims for sharp double-dealing.
A telephone bell tingled. Jubal turned from the window and picked up the instrument. He raised the receiver, then spoke in a silky purr that he used in usual conversation.
“This is James Jubal speaking…”
A wheezy voice interrupted across the wire. Jubal recognized it. His purring tone ended. He spoke quickly, in terse, brusque phrases:
“Yes, Firth…” Jubal was talking to old Ezra Brodford’s servant. “You say he is back… Yes, a visit to the lawyer… I see. You’re calling from a drug store… Go ahead… Yes, tell me more…
“You told me last night that young Brodford might go to Michigan… What’s that? You’re sure he is going? I see… Bought his ticket and reservations this afternoon… That’s news, all right… Midnight train, you say…”
A pause. Firth’s voice wheezed in Jubal’s ear. The swindler listened; then gave brief instructions.
“I’ll call young Brodford myself,” he announced. “Yes… Right away… Yes, you go back to the house… I’ll make an appointment for this evening… Yes, you be ready to cooperate… All right, Firth, give me the number…”
JUBAL listened; while he did so, he picked up a pencil from the table and made a notation on a pad that was attached to the telephone. He ended his call with Firth. Then Jubal jiggled the hook for the operator.
Receiving an answer, he repeated the telephone number that Firth had given him.
A minute passed. Then came a voice. The tone was a quiet, easy “Hello.” Jubal began to speak in his accustomed purr.
“Hello…” Jubal smiled as he spoke. “Mr. Brodford? Mr. Rex Brodford? My name is Jubal, James Jubal. Dealer in investments. Gold mines, in particular. I want to talk to you about an excellent offering…
“Chalice Gold Mines is the security that I am selling… A Michigan venture… What’s that? No, no… You have been misinformed, Mr. Brodford. The Chalice mine is located in an ideal district…
“The Quest Gold Mine? Certainly, I have heard of it… Yes, I know that you hold stock in the Quest mine… Yes, that is how I learned your name… Suppose, Mr. Brodford, that we get together and talk over the matter of mines in Michigan. It will prove to your advantage.
“Yes, tonight would be excellent… I can be there by half past ten… Your address? Perhaps you had better give it to me. I would prefer to call at your home… Certainly, to be free from disturbance…”
Jubal made new notations on his pad. He marked down the address of the Brodford residence and added the note “10:30 p.m.;” then, in suave fashion, the promoter concluded the telephone call.
The smile that appeared upon Jubal’s lips showed that the swindler was counting heavily upon his appointment with Rex Brodford.
A rap sounded at the door of the room. Jubal twisted about, nervously. He shot a suspicious glance toward the barrier; then laughed slightly. He strolled over and opened the door. A young man was standing in the hallway.
JUBAL eyed the visitor. He saw a keen-looking chap of about thirty, a man who looked prosperous and clean-cut. The promoter’s beady eyes encountered a frank gaze.
“Mr. James Jubal?” inquired the arrival, in a steady but affable tone.
“Yes,” returned Jubal.
“I am Harry Vincent,” announced the young man, extending his hand. “I tried to call you from the lobby, but your telephone was busy—”
“Step right in, Mr. Vincent,” exclaimed Jubal, receiving the handshake. “Over here. Take the chair by the window. I had forgotten that you might drop in today.
“Well, Vincent” — Jubal added the comment as he produced a cigar from his pocket — “it is indeed a pleasure to meet you. At last, we have been able to get together. But I have bad news for you.”
“Regarding the Chalice mine stock?” inquired the visitor.
“Yes,” replied Jubal. “I have been unable to acquire any more shares. There are absolutely none on the market!”
“That’s odd, Mr. Jubal. My friend Mann assured me that a purchase would be possible.”
“Mann is a conservative investment broker. He is not familiar with stocks of the Chalice mine type. You understand, of course, that the Chalice mine is a speculative venture?”
“I do. But I was certain that shares still remained unsold. Mann said—”
“Mann probably said that shares were available. In a sense, he is right. Much of the Chalice mine stock is unsold. But” — Jubal paused emphatically — “those particular shares are under option. They can not be acquired until released by the option holders.”
Harry Vincent nodded his understanding.
“This very afternoon” — Jubal spread his arms in a gesture of despair — “I talked to three option holders, begging them to release shares that were wanted by customers such as you. They refused me. Every one of them refused me!” Jubal pounded his right fist against his left palm. “All three said that they intended to exert their options; moreover, they announced that they were in the market for further shares, could I obtain them.”
“The Chalice mine must be a good proposition,” observed Harry.
“It is,” assured Jubal. “One that has been retarded, I must admit; but that happens frequently with mining projects. Flooded shafts; ruined equipment; transportation difficulties — all took heavy toll. But those expenditures will be recuperated. I have faith in the Chalice Gold Mine. Real faith, Mr. Vincent.”
JUBAL sleeked back his hair. He engaged in momentary meditation, while Harry eyed him in quiet fashion.
Glancing about, Jubal looked toward the telephone. He spied the pad on which he had written Rex Brodford’s telephone number and address, with the time of appointment.
Stepping over, Jubal tore the top sheet from the pad. He glanced at it and nodded. Harry could see the promoter reading comments; but the paper was turned so that only Jubal noted the markings. Jubal folded the paper and thrust it into his vest pocket.
“A long-distance call,” he remarked. “I must make it at once, Mr. Vincent. To Chicago. Suppose you remain here while I go downstairs.”
Harry started to rise from his chair by the window. Jubal stopped him.
“No, no,” assured the promoter, “do not misunderstand me. It would be quite all right for you to listen in on the call. But in order to keep my personal expense accounts straight, so they will not be added to the hotel bill, I like to pay cash for my phone calls.