“Exactly,” declared Waddell, with emphasis. “I cannot understand why my daughter tolerates that young upstart. He hounds us wherever we travel. It annoys me, Parker, especially as we are about to have another display of his interloping.”
“You mean he is going to Europe?”
“Yes. We sail on the Galathia before the end of the week. Now I learn from Betty that Tholbin has engaged passage on the same boat. His itinerary will be the same as ours — in all probability—”
“He wants to marry your daughter.”
“Yes; and it annoys me.”
“He has some money of his own,” said Noyes speculatively. “At least so I understand. I imagine he is spending it freely, however.”
“He is squandering,” declared Waddell, in a positive, angry tone. “He is splurging away in hopes that he may marry my daughter. I shall oppose him constantly, unless he can prove to my satisfaction that he has resources commensurate with his ambitions.”
“Which means that he must have about—”
“At least a quarter of a million in his own right.”
“Which is exceedingly unlikely,” laughed Noyes.
Tobias Waddell nodded. Then he changed the subject gruffly.
“Sorry you can’t stay for the evening, Parker,” he said. “I enjoy having you here. My only objection is that you receive too many telephone calls from your office.”
“They have been disconcerting,” replied the lawyer, with his characteristic smile. “It seems as though every time we begin a chat, the footman arrives to say that I am wanted on the telephone. Well, business comes first always — when one is an active attorney, and not a retired millionaire.”
Scarcely had Noyes paused before a liveried servant appeared at the door of the sun porch.
“A telephone call for you, sir,” said the footman, addressing Parker Noyes.
The lawyer laughed and arose from his chair. He went into the house, and entered the little room where the telephone was located. There, he carefully closed the door before approaching the telephone.
FREDERICK FROMAN was at the other end of the wire. Noyes recognized his voice instantly.
“You have made arrangements?” Froman’s voice was anxious.
“Yes,” returned Noyes, in a low, quiet tone. “Helmsworth is coming to see me this evening. Everything will be final after I talk with him.”
“Where will he see you?”
“At my own apartment. Ten o’clock. I shall call you before eleven.”
“Good. I am anxious to hear what he has to say. It all depends upon him now.”
“Exactly. In the meantime” — Noyes spoke with a slight trace of caution — “do not call me either here or at my apartment. Your call this morning was sufficient. You have succeeded in your work. The less said the better.”
“I understand,” agreed Froman.
“I had the office call Helmsworth,” added Noyes. “They arranged the appointment. I am leaving here shortly after eight o’clock.”
The conversation ended, Parker Noyes quietly left the room and returned to the sun porch. His benign countenance and sparse gray hair belied the fact that he was an abettor of the cruel methods used by Frederick Froman.
“More business?” inquired Waddell jokingly, as Noyes made his appearance.
The lawyer laughed at the comment and nodded.
Dusk was gathering when the lights of a big car loomed up the drive. The two men on the side porch saw a tall figure alight beneath the porte-cochere. It was Lamont Cranston. Both Waddell and Noyes left the porch to welcome the guest.
The three men returned to the porch to await dinner. While they were seated there, the footman again appeared. Noyes arose, only to learn that the inevitable telephone call was not for him. Lamont Cranston was wanted.
The tall, quiet-faced guest entered the telephone room in the same manner that Parker Noyes had displayed. Like the lawyer, he closed the door behind him and spoke in a low, guarded tone.
“Burbank,” came the voice from the other end.
“Report,” said Cranston.
“Marsland reports no suspicious action on the part of David Tholbin,” announced Burbank. “Vincent reports continued watch at the home of Frederick Froman. No one has entered or left.”
Cranston hung up the receiver and sat in quiet speculation. Marsland and Vincent were capable men.
They were watching two individuals who were under suspicion only because Marcus Holtmann had made a strange and unsuspected disappearance.
The vigil had begun shortly after midnight. Its continuance had brought no results. Only one other man remained, who might possibly have had some interest in the affairs of Marcus Holtmann, inasmuch as he had talked with Holtmann last night.
That man was Parker Noyes, least suspicious of all; for he was quietly biding his time as the guest of Tobias Waddell. Nevertheless, The Shadow, following his keen sense of intuition, was leaving nothing to chance. Himself a guest in Waddell’s home, he was able to observe Parker Noyes at close range.
WHEN Cranston appeared on the porch, Waddell indulged in a brief laugh.
“You have a competitor, Parker,” he remarked. “Cranston is using my home for a telephone booth, too.”
“My office has been bothering me all day,” explained Noyes, turning to Cranston. “Mr.Waddell seems to have been amused by it. However, I do not think I shall be annoyed further. The office is closed now, and there is no reason why I should receive calls. Unfortunately, I must go in to the city early in the evening, as I expect a visitor at my apartment around nine o’clock.”
“That saves me from an embarrassing situation,” returned Cranston, “I was just wondering how I could manage to get away shortly after eight, as I must be at the club, not long after nine. I am sorry that I have to leave early, also. However, it will give me the privilege of taking you in to the city with me.”
“I shall be delighted to accompany you,” said Noyes. “You may regard the invitation as accepted.”
The three men went to dinner shortly afterward; They dined alone, as Betty Waddell was absent. It developed she was in New York with a group of friends, and that she was going to the theater, escorted by David Tholbin. This explanation, by Tobias Waddell, was the beginning of a new tirade of deprecating remarks directed against Tholbin.
Shortly after eight o’clock, Parker Noyes remarked that it was about time for him to leave. Cranston’s car was summoned, and the two men started for New York. They arrived at the lawyer’s apartment house well before nine, and Cranston accepted an invitation to come up to the apartment.
They entered a room which Noyes called his office. It lived up to that name. The room was equipped with desks and typewriter, while large bookcases were filled with long rows of buckram-bound legal volumes.
Lamont Cranston, leisurely in manner, did not seem greatly impressed by this home workshop. Parker Noyes smiled indulgently, classing Lamont Cranston as a man of idleness and wealth.
Noyes had a secret contempt for members of the idle rich, and he included Cranston among them.
Nevertheless, it was good policy to be friendly to persons who might some day be desirable clients.
Before the clock on the lawyer’s desk had reached nine, Cranston suddenly recalled his almost forgotten appointment at the Cobalt Club. He said good-by to Noyes, and was ushered from the apartment by the lawyer’s manservant.
Parker Noyes gave no further thought to Cranston. The gray-haired lawyer sat at his desk, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
LAMONT CRANSTON was out of the lawyer’s mind. But he was still very much concerned with the affairs of Parker Noyes. In the dim hallway outside the apartment, a strange transformation was taking place.
Cranston, when he had left the limousine, had carried what appeared to be a hat and coat upon his arm.