The Shadow saw a significance that had escaped Cliff Marsland. A possibility that meant need for added precaution.
Taking the earphones, The Shadow called Burbank. This time he whispered instructions for Harry Vincent. He was putting a third agent into that beleaguered territory behind the Club Renaldo.
Earphones clattered to the wall. The bluish light clicked out. A swish denoted The Shadow’s departure from the sanctum. A strange laugh filled the room, then faded into awesome silence.
The Shadow had left one trail — Chuck Haggart’s — to his agents. He had taken a second — that of James Jubal — for his own duty. He had just time to reach Rex Brodford’s house before ten-thirty.
CHAPTER IV. THE EARLY BIRD
“A GENTLEMAN to see you, Mr. Brodford.”
Firth brought the news to Rex Brodford, who was seated in the old library. Rex glanced at a clock on the mantel. It showed only five minutes of ten.
“Mr. Jubal?” he questioned.
“That was the name he gave, sir,” returned Firth. “Mr. James Jubal.”
“Here early,” mused Rex. “Well, that helps. Ten o’clock is better than ten-thirty. Show him in, Firth.”
The servant departed. A few minutes passed; then the curtains pulled aside and James Jubal stepped into the library. His face unusually yellow in the dull light, the fake promoter delivered a suave smile as he advanced to shake hands with his host, Rex Brodford.
Apparently, Jubal sought to create an impression upon the man whom he had come to see. In that attempt, Jubal failed. Rex Brodford, keen in his study of the arrival, gained an immediate dislike for the promoter. There was something snakish in Jubal’s manner.
Glossy of demeanor, purring in tone, Jubal had the ability to deceive the average customer. But in Rex Brodford, he was facing a young man who had gained ten years of experience with slippery dealers. Rex had met many adventurers in the tropics. He recognized Jubal’s ilk.
Yet Rex was affable in greeting. He invited Jubal to a chair; he offered the promoter a fat cigar.
Businesslike, yet frank, Rex prepared to sound out the fellow’s game. He knew the way to handle birds of Jubal’s feather.
“You sell mining stock?” inquired Rex, by way of opening. “Michigan mining stock?”
“Yes,” purred Jubal. “I have an excellent offering. In the Chalice Gold Mine. A speculation but a good one.”
“Are you speaking of the present?” questioned Rex, with a slight smile. “Or of the past?”
“Of the future,” returned Jubal.
Rex shook his head. His smile was almost sad as he faced the promoter.
“I know about the Chalice Gold Mine,” the young man informed. “It may have been a good investment once. Provided, of course, that it was offered with fair intention. But at present, it is a failure. It has no future.”
“A surprising statement,” proffered Jubal suavely. “Especially from you, Mr. Brodford.”
“Why so?”
“Because you are a heavy investor in the Quest Gold Mine. An operation that was also begun in the Lake Chalice territory.”
“My uncle made that investment. It was ill-advised.”
“Ah! Then you have no belief in the Quest Gold Mine? You think that it is worthless?”
Rex Brodford considered. Jubal’s change of tune was something of a surprise. Rex suspected a game in back of it. He wanted to pump Jubal.
“I BELIEVE,” replied Rex slowly, “that the Quest Gold Mine once had possibilities. That it failed through difficulties in production. That it was wisely closed and forgotten.”
“But now?”
“At present, it may have real possibilities. Let us assume, Mr. Jubal, that there is gold in the Quest mine. Gold, today, is worth nearly twice as much as it was thirty years ago. Production methods have been improved. Gold may be mined for half the former cost.
“Therefore, an operation that would once have lost money could easily show a substantial profit today. That is why I am interested in reclaiming the Quest Gold Mine. I intend to leave for Michigan tonight, to begin an intensive search for its forgotten shaft.”
Jubal smiled. His expression, though intended as a pleasantry, revealed an ugliness of twisted lips.
“Mr. Brodford,” declared Jubal glibly, “you are using my own sales talk. That is exactly what I have said about the Chalice mine. Like the Quest mine, it could be operated at a low cost. Now is the time to invest in gold-mining enterprises—”
“But you are forgetting one point,” interposed Rex steadily — “a difference between the old Quest mine and the new Chalice mine.”
“What is the difference?” demanded Jubal.
“The Quest mine,” replied Rex coldly, “was intended as a legitimate enterprise. The Chalice mine, however, has all the earmarks of a swindle.”
An angry gleam showed on Jubal’s visage. The sallow man calmed quickly; but his eyes still held a challenge.
“If there is gold in that Michigan terrain,” continued Rex steadily, “it may be found in the shaft of the old Quest mine. But the Chalice mine is nothing more than a rabbit burrow, dug at random. A false hope, to drag money from gullible dupes.”
The young man’s words carried accusation. Jubal clenched his fists; his face showed feigned indignation.
Rex delivered a short laugh. Jubal smiled sourly.
“You take me for a swindler?” he questioned.
“I do,” retorted Rex. “In fact, I was warned against you, Jubal.”
Jubal considered. Gradually the anger melted from his features. His smile gained a peculiar suavity. The swindler stroked his glossy, greasy hair.
“All right, Mr. Brodford,” he asserted. “I shall not deny your accusation. I am a swindler; but not by choice. I did have confidence — once — in the Chalice Gold Mine. I thought that it could be made to pay. Later, I altered my opinion.”
“Yet kept on selling stock?”
“Yes. I realized that the company was doomed to failure. For the same reason that the old Quest mine had ceased operation.”
“Through lack of funds?”
“No. Through lack of gold. Frankly, Mr. Brodford, there is not a chunk of gold ore in that entire area.”
REX stared in surprise. Jubal’s confession sounded genuine. Yet the man’s whole stock in trade was the ability to bluff. Rex wanted to hear more before accepting the fellow’s statements.
“I have built up a clientele,” asserted Jubal, in a tone that was almost pleading. “I have talked gold — gold — gold! I can sell nothing else. Yet I have reached the limit of my rope. I have not sold a single share of Chalice mine stock in the last three months.”
“Yet you came here to dupe me,” observed Rex coldly.
“Perhaps,” admitted Jubal, “and perhaps not. I must live somehow; and I would not have passed up the opportunity to make a sale. At the same time, you will agree that I have used no high-pressure tactics.”
“Agreed.”
“You have called my bluff” — Jubal was leaning forward as he spoke — “and I am glad of it. I am free, for once, to talk frankly. Let me ask you one question: you intend to go to Michigan?”
“Yes; tonight.”
“To look for the old Quest mine?”
“Yes.”
Rex was doing no more than make statements that he had already given. Hence he saw no reason to refuse replies to Jubal’s interrogations. The swindler, however, seemed as pleased as if he had gained new information. He settled back in his chair.
“I can give you good advice,” declared Jubal. “Forget the Quest mine. I have told you that the territory is barren. You will be wasting your time.”
“Hardly,” rejoined Rex. “I hold stock in the Quest mine that has a par value of more than two hundred thousand dollars.”