“Worthless paper, Mr. Brodford.”
“Perhaps. And yet—”
“And yet,” supplied Jubal, catching Rex’s pause, “you would like to get something from it. Am I right?”
“Yes,” admitted Rex.
“Good.” Jubal smiled again as he leaned forward. “I can come to the real business that brought me here tonight. I do not want to make a sale, Mr. Brodford. I am here to buy!”
“To buy?” echoed Rex.
“Yes,” replied Jubal. “I want to purchase your entire holdings in Quest Gold Mine. At two cents on the dollar. That, Mr. Brodford, would mean a net profit to you of four-thousand dollars.”
REX stared. He was trying to figure the game. Jubal’s smile widened. Sudden understanding came to Rex. He started to speak. Jubal interrupted him.
“You see it,” chuckled the swindler. “I thought you would. I told you a few minutes ago that I have found the Chalice mine stock a dead item. I need a new offering — one that can give me a chance to use high pressure.
“Stock in the old Quest mine would fill the bill. Customers would grab at it. That mine once operated, even though we have no proofs that it ever produced. You are getting four thousand dollars for old paper, Mr. Brodford, while I—”
“While you,” interrupted Rex harshly, “are planning new trimmings. You want me to aid you in an enterprise which in your opinion is worthless.”
“I am a promoter—”
“You are a swindler! I shall be no party to your scheme, Jubal.”
Rex arose as he spoke. He glanced at the clock. It showed quarter past ten. He smiled grimly.
“You came early, Jubal,” stated Rex. “You will leave early. Firth” — Rex turned toward the door as he called; Firth appeared — “get Mr. Jubal’s hat and coat. He is leaving.”
Firth went out into the hall. Jubal was defiant, scowling. On his feet, he thrust his leering face toward Rex Brodford.
“You fool!” snarled the swindler. “You will regret this action! I offered you a chance. To stay here — to make a profit. I brought you opportunity—”
“And I refused it,” broke in Rex. “My plans have been made, Jubal, and you can not change them. I am closing this house tonight. I am leaving for Michigan.”
Firth arrived with Jubal’s hat and coat. Muttering curses, the swindler donned the garments, glaring at Rex as he did so. Straightening, he issued a last statement.
“Think this over, Brodford!” exclaimed the swindler. “It is for your own good. Postpone this trip of yours until—”
“Firth,” interposed Rex, “show Mr. Jubal to the door.”
Firth opened the curtains. Still muttering, Jubal turned about and strode through. Rex remained in the library, listening to the swindler’s departure.
Mutterings from the hall. Jubal was probably delivering an outburst to Firth. Then came the slam of the front door.
FIRTH returned. He reached the curtain to find Rex standing in the center of the library. The young man was wearing a fixed smile. He looked toward Firth.
“Everything is packed, sir,” stated the servant. “Shall I call a cab? You should allow ample time—”
“Yes,” interposed Rex, “I would like to reach the Grand Central well ahead of train time. It would allow me time for sandwiches and coffee. What about yourself, Firth?”
“I am all packed, sir. I shall close the house directly after you leave.”
“And where will you go then?”
“To visit relatives, sir. I shall send my address to Mr. Witherby. If you require my services later, sir—”
“I shall communicate with you, Firth.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall call the cab at once.”
Firth stepped into the hall. He picked up the telephone from the table. Rex, pacing the library, heard the old servant use the dial. But he did not observe the actions that followed.
Immediately after dialing, Firth pressed down the receiver hook. Holding the telephone, he waited; then began to speak, as if to someone at the other end. Rex heard Firth’s voice, inquiring for the Intercity Cab Company. But the curtain hid his view. He had no idea that Firth was faking the call.
The servant appeared in the doorway, hanging up the receiver. He bowed and stated:
“The taxi will be here in ten minutes, sir.”
“Good,” returned Rex. “Bring down my bags, Firth.”
The servant departed. As he walked through the hall, his face showed the same evil gleam that it had betrayed the night before. Firth had played a new part as a tool in some insidious scheme.
Two blocks away from the Brodford mansion, James Jubal had entered a drug store. The swindler was in a phone booth, making a call of his own. His final words sounded:
“Be there with the cab. Pull up when the old flunky gives the high sign.”
It was James Jubal who had actually ordered a taxi to Rex Brodford’s home. Firth had teamed with the swindler. Jubal, as he left the drug store, wore a vicious leer.
A clock was chiming half past ten — the time originally set for Jubal’s appointment with Rex Brodford. The promoter had come early; he had left early. Half past ten had become the time for a different action.
James Jubal defeated in his efforts to purchase Rex Brodford’s stock at two cents on the dollar, had launched a different plan to block the young man’s trip to Michigan.
CHAPTER V. A DETOUR ENDS
AT the very moment when James Jubal was leaving the drug store two blocks away, a taxicab was rolling into the secluded street which harbored the old Brodford mansion. This was not the cab that Jubal had ordered; the vehicle which the swindler had called for could not have arrived so soon. This cab was one that brought a passenger.
The driver was slackening speed as the cab approached the Brodford house. A sharp hiss came from the darkness in the rear of the taxi. In response to the command, the man at the wheel brought the conveyance to a stop one dozen doors before the Brodford house.
The door of the cab opened. The passenger moved out into darkness. Like a gliding phantom of gloom, he edged across the sidewalk and reached the blackness of building fronts. The Shadow had arrived at his objective. The time was approximately half past ten.
The glow of a lamp from across the street showed the crafty, pointed face of the taxi driver who had remained at the wheel. He was staying in readiness. This driver was Moe Shrevnitz, who served as an aid for The Shadow.
Moe had been chosen for special duty on numerous occasions. Saved from death by The Shadow, he had later been singled out by his mysterious benefactor. The Shadow had seen the advantages of having a worker like Moe in his service.
The independent cab that Moe drove was actually owned by The Shadow. It was Moe’s job to have it at appointed spots whenever so ordered. Tonight, Moe had been in readiness. The Shadow had mysteriously stepped aboard and had ordered Moe to bring him to this district.
The Shadow’s present purpose was unknown to the taxi driver. In fact, Moe caught no sight of the cloaked figure as it emerged from the cab. He knew that The Shadow would probably return shortly.
When a new command came, Moe would follow it.
MEANWHILE The Shadow was approaching Rex Brodford’s home. He knew that it was the address where he would probably uncover James Jubal; for it was now the time at which the swindler’s appointment had been set. Stealth was the method that The Shadow had selected on this occasion.
The Shadow wanted to look in on this secluded house; to catch Jubal in the perpetration of some swindle. By The Shadow’s analysis, Jubal was a rogue who dealt in schemes, not one who could be pictured as a dangerous party unless backed by actual killers.