“Yes. I recall it.”
“Since then,” continued Griscom, “the situation has become more acute. The merger is even more necessary than before. We must float our loan.
“At the same time, the vague suggestions made by the representative of the Cooperative Association have become tangible activities.”
“In what way?”
“In malicious attempts to harm our theaters,” declared Griscom. “In one outlying theater, the cashier was held up and the box office robbed. In another larger house, an unexplainable accident occurred in the projection booth. It nearly caused a panic.
“There have been other troubles which have been hurting our business. Yesterday, for the first time, we were able to apprehend one person who appears to have been a trouble-maker. He was observed entering the theater by a manager who happened to be there.
“The manager recognized him as having been present the night of the trouble in the projection booth at the Eagle Theater — which was where the accident had occurred.
“An usher watched this suspicious character, and the man realized that he was under observation. He left the theater hurriedly and was pursued.
“He was trying to throw something away when he ran around the corner. He was captured after a chase of several blocks.”
Stanley Wilberton exhibited a slight sign of curiosity, as he gazed at Griscom.
“What did he have?” he questioned.
“Nothing,” replied the theater owner. “We took him to the police station. He was searched. His pockets contained nothing but small change, a package of cigarettes, a wallet, and a few other ordinary items.
“Whatever he tried to dispose of was gone. We searched thoroughly over the path which he followed. We found nothing. We were forced to let the man go.”
“A mistake, evidently,” Wilberton concluded.
“I DON’T think so, Mr. Wilberton. The man gave his name as Tony Peretti, although he did not look to be Italian.
“We were able to trace his actions before he entered the theater. He had been in the Turin Cafe, a small Italian restaurant downtown, for lunch. He had spent the afternoon in another theater — a ticket stub in his pocket indicated that fact.
“When we questioned the proprietor of the Turin Cafe, he said that he knew the man’s face — that Peretti came there nearly every day, and always ate alone at a corner table.”
“What kind of a place is the restaurant?” questioned Wilberton sharply. “Do racketeers frequent it?”
“No,” replied Griscom. “It has an excellent reputation—”
“It is a very fine restaurant, sir,” interposed Crowley, the secretary. “I go there occasionally. In fact, I expect to eat lunch there to-day. The Turin serves the best Italian food in New York. That is my opinion.”
Stanley Wilberton laughed dryly.
“Well, well, Crowley,” he said. “I am glad to see that you have some interest other than your work here.
“Perhaps you may be able to help Griscom in his dilemma” — there was a touch of ridicule in Wilberton’s voice — “perhaps you have seen a man named — what was that name, Griscom?”
“Tony Peretti.”
Crowley shook his head methodically.
“I never recall meeting such a person, sir,” he said.
Stanley Wilberton laughed good-naturedly at the seriousness of his secretary. He turned again to Howard Griscom.
“This is a very trivial matter,” he said.
“No, Mr. Wilberton,” protested Griscom. “It can be very serious. Business has been badly hit at the Eagle Theater since the accident in the projection booth. We had been having capacity audiences — now the theater is only half filled.
“It has had a slight effect upon other theaters of our chain, and any similar occurrence would be disastrous. The Paladrome — our largest theater, you know — would be badly hit if any trouble started there.
“There is no doubt about it, Mr. Wilberton. We are being subjected to a systematized form of terrorism — and we are virtually helpless.”
“Have you been able to link the Theatrical Owners Cooperative Association with these disturbances?”
“No. It appears to be a one-man organization. The representative, Maurice Belden, is manager, also. He has a small office — we have had detectives watching it. He seems to be working alone — independent of the disturbers.
“He is too wise for us. He has made his position secure by actually signing up a few independent theaters. He is running what appears to be a legitimate business. We cannot touch him!”
“He must be controlling it all,” declared Wilberton. “He’s the man to watch.”
“He is not the man to watch.” The statement came from Lamont Cranston, hitherto silent. “I have told Mr. Griscom that there is some one higher up. He is right when he states that Belden is working independently.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Wilberton impatiently. “These racketeers are all alike. Clever, but all for themselves.”
“That is incorrect,” declared Cranston. “The most important rackets are controlled by some one above.
“You should recognize that fact, Mr. Wilberton. You — a great financier — control many enterprises because they are profitable. Rackets are profitable enterprises. There is some one who controls them.”
Wilberton laughed contemptuously.
“This is indeed enlightening!” he exclaimed. “A racket syndicate! A wonderful idea, Mr. - er — Mr. Cranston. Something that exists — in your mind, only. I advise you to follow up that idea. It might mean millions.
“Meanwhile” — he looked at Howard Griscom in an annoyed manner — “I have too many important matters to concern me to spend time discussing the minor problems of the theatrical business!”
“One moment, please, Mr. Wilberton,” pleaded Howard Griscom. “I have told you this, simply to find out if you would still consider that loan — if we should satisfactorily end our present difficulty.
“If this thing keeps on — particularly if we have trouble in a theater such as the Paladrome I shall have to yield to the persuasion of the Theatrical Owners Cooperative Association. The interests of the stockholders will compel me—”
WILBERTON interrupted him with a wave of his hand. Griscom became silent while the financier turned to speak to Crowley. The secretary was standing by in a deferential manner.
“I shall not need you any longer, Crowley,” remarked Wilberton. “You may leave now. Do not return until after lunch — and be sure to take care of those matters I mentioned this morning. We had not quite finished with our discussion, but I think you now understand what should be done.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Crowley solemnly.
He bowed and walked from the room. Lamont Cranston had been eyeing the inscrutable face of the secretary. He watched Crowley as the man left.
“I did not wish Crowley to be here,” said Wilberton. “He attends to detail work for me, but knows nothing about my plans.
“Regarding the loan, Mr. Griscom, I can assure you and Mr. - er” — he motioned toward Cranston — “your friend here, that I am quite willing to furnish the money when you have settled the menace that now threatens your business.”
“Ballantyne is the stumbling block,” replied Griscom. “I see the menace now; he refuses to see it. I cannot act until Ballantyne is willing. But, perhaps—”
“Perhaps,” supplied Wilberton, as Griscom paused, “new troubles may cause Ballantyne to become less obstinate. I sympathize with him and with you, Griscom. These rackets are bitter pills to swallow, and I cannot blame you for your stand.
“I agree with opposing them, in theory; but it is impossible to oppose them when they become facts. It is an outrage, but—” He shrugged his shoulders in completion of the sentence.