It was after nine o’clock when Harry walked out with the porter. The young man locked the door of the room behind him. He went down to the lobby and paid his bill, but kept the key in his possession. As though by afterthought, Harry returned upstairs. He opened the door of his room.
When Harry had departed, he had left one light burning — the lamp on the writing desk. That illumination had not been disturbed. Nevertheless, a change had taken place. Harry, in leaving, had placed his two envelopes directly beneath the lighted lamp.
Those envelopes were gone.
Harry smiled. His time calculation had been precise. The airplane overhead; Landow’s statement regarding taxi service in from the airport — both explained the reason for the missing envelopes.
Some one had come in from the airport, to visit Harry’s room, unlocking it with a master key. Harry knew who that personage was. The Shadow!
A telegram from Rutledge Mann had given Harry these instructions. Harry’s work in New Avalon was ended. The Shadow was here, and in possession of all the facts that Harry Vincent had gleaned.
From now on, budding plots in New Avalon would be under the surveillance of the master sleuth. Beginning with Harry’s reports, The Shadow, unseen and unknown, would take up the work against developing crime!
CHAPTER XII
CROOKS CONFER
FOULKROD KENDALL had spoken the truth when he had stated that he was going to his factory. The millionaire was a man who lived on business. He frequently went to the plant in the evening. It was not an unusual practice.
Hence, Clayton Landow, at dinner with Harry Vincent, had mentioned Kendall’s whereabouts when the millionaire’s name had been brought up. Kendall’s plan for the evening had gone into Harry’s final report to The Shadow.
Before The Shadow had received that report, however, Foulkrod Kendall was already stationed in his factory office, awaiting the arrival of a special visitor. A rap at the side door of Kendall’s sumptuous office told the millionaire that the expected man had arrived.
Kendall opened the door. Silk Elverton entered. The smooth crook smiled as he approached the millionaire.
“That side door is a great idea,” he remarked. “I didn’t have any trouble finding it.”
“I left it open for you,” returned Kendall. “It is my own private mode of entry. It will serve you as well. Here is a duplicate key to the door for future use.”
“How’s the work coming along?”
“Come. I shall show you.”
Kendall led the way through an empty outer office, then down a deserted side corridor. The factory had various ins and outs; Silk realized quickly that Kendall could follow a course through here without encountering watchmen or workers.
The dull rumble of machinery was in evidence. Kendall explained that the factory was engaged in night work.
Silk smiled. Whether this was legitimate business or subterfuge did not matter. Some activity in the plant would be useful at nights. That was the time when the hidden workers were employed.
Kendall stopped at an obscure door. He unlocked it with the same key that fitted the special entrance to his office. He gave a low explanation to Silk Elverton.
“This is an experimental room,” said the millionaire. “Only myself and those workers whom I delegate are allowed to enter. It has long been accepted as an institution in this plant. Moreover, it has its own storeroom, which is well supplied with the alloy, and which will be replenished.”
Kendall rapped quietly at an inner door. It opened. Silk accompanied the millionaire into a compact workshop. The room had no windows; it was well illuminated. Its occupants were three men who waved a prompt greeting to Silk Elverton.
CYRUS BARBIER, Tony Cumo, Tim Mecke — these formed the trio. Barbier, in overalls and goggles, was standing by a heavy machine, set up for use. Cumo was also attired in working clothes; Mecke wore a chauffeur’s uniform.
“What do you think of it?” questioned Kendall.
“Great,” responded Silk. “You’ve handled my men with good effect. Let’s see the wheels run.”
Cyrus Barbier grinned at the suggestion. He mumbled toothless words, and Tony Cumo went to his post. Tim Mecke joined Kendall and Elverton. At a command from Barbier, Tony drew a lever. Machinery began to thrum and grind.
Silk Elverton watched in elation as the heavy arm of the stamping machine pounded out its work. Shining metal disks dropped in rapid succession, clattering as they fell into the receptacle below. Barbier was controlling the machine; Tony Cumo was feeding it.
“I had the equipment,” explained Kendall. “Disk cutters, stamping machines, and all. They supplied the dies. The metal — well, that’s the real secret.”
The millionaire dipped his hand among the falling disks, and scooped out a handful. He poured shining silver half dollars into Silk’s eager hinds. The smooth crook rang them; he weighed them. He tossed them back into the receptable and thumped Kendall on the back.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed in enthusiasm. “Look at them fall! Say — those will stand the test!”
“Come into the storeroom,” suggested Kendall.
Silk followed the manufacturer. They reached a large, solid-walled room, and there Silk observed huge stacks of silver strips. He examined one of the ribbonlike articles, and noted its thickness.
“For half dollars,” stated Kendall. “These others are rolled in quarter and dime thicknesses. We do all that kind of work here in the plant. Nobody is wise.”
They went back into the room where the stamping machine was pounding out its flow of coinage. Kendall showed Silk bins in which sample coins were in evidence. He picked up a handful of dimes, and pointed to one feature.
“Old dates,” remarked the millionaire. “Not too shiny, either. You found me a prize, Elverton, when you sent this man Barbier here. From now on, the manufacture of silverware will be a joke. Here is the money.”
Silk ginned. The statement was doubly correct. Then the smooth crook pointed to the coins, and put a pointed question.
“You’ve arranged to unload it?” he asked. “You know my idea — to travel around and pass the queer—”
“Later,” interposed Kendall. “We’re going back into the office, Elverton. I’ll tell you everything there.”
The plotters departed. They left Barbier and Cumo at the machine. Tim Mecke was stacking coins at a bench. The throb and pounding of machinery was no longer audible after Kendall and Silk had passed the outer soundproof door.
IN his office, Kendall motioned Silk to a chair. In a quiet tone, the millionaire began to outline the plans as they now stood. His first reference was to the disposition of the men.
“It will be wise,” said Kendall, “for you to make only occasional visits to my home. In fact, it would be best for me to say that you have left New Avalon, but are expecting to return after a short trip about the country.”
Silk Elverton nodded.
“Barbier and Cumo are working at night,” Kendall went on. “They are only two of many employees in my factory. They have a remote house on the outskirts of the little settlement located here.
“Tim Mecke is living there also. He will prove valuable. I have made him one of the men working on the armored car that I use to carry pay rolls. His only duties, however, will be in connection with distribution of silver money.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Silk. “You have the plan all worked out?”
“Yes,” said Kendall. “But before I come to that, let me tell you about our potential output. I was ready to flood the market with Kendallware of low silver content — the alloy which will stand up as Sterling. I have invested thousands of dollars in that material. It will be used exclusively for coinage.”