PAGET apparently was in no hurry. He walked several blocks; then turned toward Broadway. He stopped once or twice in front of different restaurants, and Harry loitered well behind.
At last one eating house caught Paget’s fancy. He entered and went to a table at the end of the room.
Harry lingered outside until Burke arrived.
“We can go in without being noticed,” whispered Harry. “Paget is not facing the door. We can take a table near the front.”
The two men entered the small restaurant and ordered dinner. Facing each other by the front window, they could both observe Paget’s back while the clubman was dining. Paget appeared to be in no hurry with his meal.
“P-s-st,” signaled Harry.
Clyde looked to the left without moving his head. He noted that Paget was rising from the table at the end of the room.
The man had turned slightly so that his profile was visible. He drew a watch from his pocket and noted the time. Then he surveyed the restaurant in a curious way. Neither Harry nor Clyde made a suspicious movement.
Paget paid the waiter and looked about him. Then he strolled to the back of the room.
“He’s telephoning,” whispered Clyde. “There’s a booth in the corner. I can just see the edge of it.”
Harry nodded.
Minutes dragged by. Harry became uneasy. He glanced toward the back of the room. Then he leaned across the table.
“That’s a long phone call,” he whispered. “I’m going back there to look up a number.”
He arose and went to the back of the restaurant. Clyde saw him as he stepped beyond the booth. Then Harry’s face turned suddenly toward the table, where Clyde Burke was sitting and the newspaperman observed a look of profound amazement on his friend’s features. He arose in response to a signal from Harry.
“Look!” exclaimed Harry, when Clyde reached him. Vincent was pointing to the telephone booth.
Clyde Burke was too astonished to reply. They were in the extreme corner of the restaurant, in an obscure spot flanked by plain, painted walls. Before them, its entrance toward the back of the restaurant, was the telephone booth. It was absolutely empty.
Rodney Paget had disappeared!
CHAPTER X. THE SILENT SEVEN
A MAN appeared in the lobby of an old apartment house just off Broadway. The place was deserted. It was antiquated in appearance, and showed signs of having once known better days.
The man opened the solid door of the automatic elevator. He entered, closed the door behind him, and pressed the button marked with the figure four. The elevator, its mechanism groaning, moved slowly upward.
The man placed his forefinger upon the red button marked “Stop.” He watched the door of the elevator and noted the number designating the third floor.
The instant the bottom of the elevator reached the top of the door that led to the third floor, the man pressed the stop button. The elevator came to a halt between the third and fourth floors.
The passenger turned to the back of the elevator. It consisted of two metal panels with a vertical division between them. The man placed his hand upon the division and pushed it upward several inches. Pressing his hand against the panel on the right, he moved it to the left.
An opening appeared in the back of the elevator. Beyond it was a narrow doorway cut through the brick masonry of the elevator shaft.
The man stepped through the opening. He closed the panel of the elevator behind him. Something clicked; the mechanism of the elevator began to grind as the car descended.
The lobby downstairs remained deserted for a few minutes. Then a side door opened, and Rodney Paget emerged. He stepped out of the old storeroom through which he had come.
He looked cautiously about the lobby. The street door was solid, and no one could be seen from outside.
Paget glanced at his watch. It registered five minutes past eight.
The clubman moved across the lobby in a stealthy manner. He hastily opened the elevator door and slipped through. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pressed the button by the figure four.
Like the man who had gone before him, Paget kept his finger upon the red stop button. He was tense, waiting for the proper instant. He had the air of one who has embarked upon a dangerous adventure.
When the elevator had cleared the third floor, Paget pressed the stop button. He turned and his hands trembled slightly as he found the movable panel and opened it. The darkness of the passage through the wall momentarily discouraged him. He hesitated on the brink; then, with a sudden effort, he stepped through the opening.
He closed the panel behind him and released a catch which he discovered by feeling in the darkness. He stood in a listening attitude while the car descended to the first floor.
PAGET walked straight ahead, through impenetrable darkness. His hands were outstretched before him.
At last they encountered a smooth wall.
Feeling to the right, Paget sensed a turn in the passage, but he did not follow it; Instead, he moved his hands to the corner of the wall. There his fingers discovered a tiny crevice! In it was a small, almost unnoticeable projection.
He pressed the projection, and the smooth wall slid back. It revealed a room lighted by a dim red light.
When Paget entered, the wall closed behind him.
The room was small and barren. In one corner lay a dark mass of cloth. Paget stopped and lifted a dark-blue robe, topped by a cowl. He donned the garment and stepped to the wall opposite the spot where he had entered.
He tapped the wall seven times. A momentary silence; then seven answering taps were heard. Paget tapped five times. A portion of the wall slid open.
Paget entered a larger room where four cowled men were standing. One of them approached him. The room was filled with a dim, weird light.
“Seven,” came a whispered voice. The word was uttered by the cowled figure that stood before Paget.
“Silence,” whispered Paget, in reply.
“One,” came the next challenge.
“Five,” was Paget’s response.
“Our name.”
“The Silent Seven.”
“Our sign.”
Paget raised his hands to the front of his robe. The fingers of his right hand were spread; two fingers of his left hand were extended.
The gesture signified the number seven. It satisfied the challenger.
“Our amulet,” came the next request. Paget held out his left hand, palm down. There, on his third finger, rested the scarab ring which had once been worn by Doctor George Lukens.
The hooded challenger leaned forward to inspect it. He showed his approval by stepping backward.
Paget, without noticeable hesitation, took his place near the wall beside the three hooded men who stood there.
An ominous silence hung over that group of strangely clad men. The suspense chilled Rodney Paget.
They were waiting, and no motion was made by any one. At length, seven light taps were heard.
The hooded chief stepped forward and tapped the sliding door seven times. Six knocks came in reply.
The wall moved to the side and another hooded man entered. He answered the challenges that had been given to Rodney Paget.
The only difference was in the reply given to the word “One.” Paget had responded “Five.” The newcomer answered “Six.”
There was a prolonged wait after the sixth man had been accepted by the challenger. Then came another tapping. The new entrant replied “Seven” to the word “One.” He was accepted.
The challenger walked backward to the far side of the room and raised both hands. Paget followed the example of the others as they sat on stools near the walls of the room.
“WE are the Silent Seven,” said the central figure, in a low-pitched voice. Every word was audible; some peculiar acoustic condition of the room gave the tone an awe-inspiring sound.