“But you must depend upon them to—”
“If I can find one man who will tell me what I want to know, I shall offer him inducements in return for information. One is all I ask.”
“How will you find him?”
“That has already been done.”
“Through whom?”
“Through the man with whom I just conversed by telephone. Luis Santo is his name. He is an investigator whom I sent from Mexico City. He has learned the identities of certain individuals who can give me information. Santo is going back to Mexico. The rest remains for me to accomplish.”
“With my aid?”
“With your aid — when needed.”
There was a pause. Harland Mullrick folded his map of Mexico. He lighted a cigarette, and his lips formed a hard, stern smile. Jerry Herston showed a knowing grin. The ex-detective believed he knew how he could be of aid to Mullrick.
“Come!” Mullrick arose suddenly and led Herston to a doorway at the side of the living room. “Here is where you are to stay. I want you to listen to my interview with Santo. Give me your opinion later on.”
The living room was momentarily empty. It was then that the figure of The Shadow appeared. Swiftly, the black-clad listener came in from the entry. He glided to a spot beyond the telephone table. His figure dwindled until it melted with the wall.
Hardly had The Shadow stationed himself at his new post before Harland Mullrick came back into the living room. He had placed Jerry Herston in a vantage point; now he was accompanied by Pascual.
“When Senor Santo arrives,” said Mullrick, speaking in Spanish, “bring him in here. You understand, Pascual?”
“Si, senor,” replied the servant.
“You may come in and out,” continued Mullrick. “Santo will expect that. He knows that you are my servant—”
Mullrick’s sentence ended. Someone was rapping at the door. With a gesture to Pascual, Mullrick dropped into a chair and lighted a cigarette. Pascual started toward the door as the knocking was repeated.
Harland Mullrick smiled. He would converse with Luis Santo. The Mexican investigator would not know that someone was listening in to the talk. Mullrick was thinking of Jerry Herston’s presence.
Not for an instant did it occur to him that another unseen listener might be here! Whatever Jerry Herston might overhear at this important interview would be known to The Shadow also!
CHAPTER III
THE SECRET LIST
WHEN Pascual opened the door, a slender, dapper man entered. He was swarthy in complexion; his pointed mustache, black as his hair, gave him a foreign look. This was Luis Santo, the Mexican investigator.
Santo bowed and extended his hand as he approached Harland Mullrick. The American returned the clasp and motioned Santo to a chair. Seating himself, Mullrick uttered a single word:
“Begin.”
Santo threw a nervous glance toward Pascual. He looked at Mullrick inquiringly, doubting the advisability of talking over important matters before the servant.
“Speak English,” suggested Mullrick. “Pascual does not understand the language sufficiently to follow it.”
“Very good,” purred Santo, in perfect English. “Your language will serve our purpose, Senor Mullrick. I have been using it exclusively since my arrival in New York.”
Mullrick remained passive. It was obvious that Santo did not suspect the real reason why Mullrick had decided that English should be used. Jerry Herston, listening from the other room, would not have understood Spanish, had he heard it.
“I have made good my promise, senor,” announced Santo proudly, his face gleaming with a smile. “In Mexico City I told you that I, with my knowledge of government affairs, could locate those who were in Durango during the regime of Porfirio Diaz. I have found them, senor. They are four.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Mullrick.
“Their names,” continued Santo, “are here. This list tells all of them. Each you will see, senor, is from a different walk in life. For instance—”
Mullrick held up his hand. He took the sheet of paper and studied the names, which bore notations under them. He nodded as he read.
“I have given you the names,” remarked Santo. “I have given you the addresses where they can be reached. More than that, senor, I have told you how each came to be in Mexico.”
“I am reading it, Santo,” reminded Mullrick. The Mexican remained silent, watching Mullrick’s rigid face. As he looked at the list, Mullrick held it close in front of him and studied it word by word. The list read:
ROY SELBRIG, Commander Apartments, New York City. Former soldier of fortune. Served as officer with troops commanded by General Alvaro Obregon during suppression of Villa insurrection of 1915. Later deserted to revolutionary group. Fled from Mexico in 1916. Living on small income left him by legacy.
BURTON BLISSIP, 96 °Calaban Avenue, Buffalo, New York. Retired mining engineer. Located in Mexico until 1911. Went to South America after overthrow of Diaz government. Returned to United States two years ago. Limited income.
SIDNEY COOPERDALE, Kewson, Long Island. Archeologist. Spent several years in Mexico prior to fall of Diaz regime. Later joined expedition in the East. Eccentric person.
DONALD GERSHAWL, New York City. Millionaire financier. Holder of concessions under Diaz regime. Interests in mining and mineral developments. Lives in penthouse on Solwick Tower when in New York.
DELIBERATELY, Harland Mullrick folded the list. He looked at Luis Santo. The Mexican smiled. He could see the question that was coming.
“Without mentioning these names,” remarked Mullrick, “may I ask why you have placed them in the order given. Why did you not start with the final name — which is obviously the most important?”
“Because, senor,” returned Santo, “I have put them as you should see them. If you have a proposal to make to one of these men, you should begin with the first; then the second—”
“Agreed,” interrupted Mullrick. “I see your point, Santo, and it is a good one. You are sure that all these men are familiar with Durango?”
“Absolutely,” responded the Mexican. “All of them spent some time in the Sierra Madre Mountains. I am sure, also, that they do not know of each other.”
“Why not?”
“Because those of the Diaz regime would have kept Americanos apart. He was a great man, Porfirio Diaz; great because he had wisdom.”
“You have spoken to any of the four?”
“No, senor. I was clever not to do that. I learned about them secretly. Remember, senor, I come from Mexico, a land of intrigue and cabal. You have paid me well.”
“Yes,” agreed Mullrick, “and you have rendered the service I required. Your work is ended, Santo. When do you return to Mexico?”
“Tomorrow, senor,” answered Santo. “I go as passenger on the steamship El Salvador, sister ship of the Yucatan, upon which I presume you arrived tonight.”
“Very good,” commented Mullrick. “You have obtained suitable accommodations?”
“Stateroom 45, on Deck B,” returned Santo.
“Excellent,” remarked Mullrick, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I wish you a most pleasant trip.”
As he finished speaking, Mullrick calmly tore the folded list. Luis Santo, exclaiming in sharp surprise, half arose from his chair in protest. Mullrick, smiling, continued the tearing process.