“Wise,” remarked Silk. “You don’t want any comeback on account of the tableware.”
“I shall produce Sterling silverware,” said Kendall. “It will be priced low enough to uphold the claim that I made to other manufacturers. I can afford to lose some money on tableware, if necessary. The machine is stamping out coins by the bushel.
“Naturally, the output is greater in total value when half dollars are coined. Quarters are effective, also. We are concentrating on them to gain a reserve supply; then we can punch out dimes when we are somewhat ahead of the game.”
“The outlet,” suggested Silk. “What about it?”
“Perfect,” said Kendall. “You will be surprised, Elverton, when I tell you confidentially that this alloy runs only ten cents to the dollar. Such low cost is possible, due to the present decline of the silver market, which has enabled me to purchase an oversupply.
“I intend to send out one thousand dollars in silver to each of the Kendall Theaters, every Monday morning. The larger houses can be given additional funds. Therefore, I estimate an outlet of twenty thousand dollars. Costing us two thousand, the net profit is eighteen thousand dollars a week.”
Silk Elverton whistled.
“Can the machine keep up with it?” he questioned.
“I intend to install a second machine,” stated Kendall. “Furthermore, I have other forms of outlet. The company stores, various enterprises with which I am associated; these can use silver money. I shall be conservative with them, however. The theaters offer the sure outlet. Through them we will loose a scourge of silver that will spread throughout the country!”
“We can net a million a year,” exclaimed Silk.
“Far more than that,” asserted Kendall, “when I have developed other outlets. The present plan will do for a time, however. I have acted wisely, Elverton. All money from the theaters is to be brought in here in paper. Monday mornings, the theaters will be supplied with silver from my armored truck.
“Presumably, I shall be attending to extensive bank deposits, and receiving silver coins by special order. Actually, the paper money will be deposited in different banks — much of it in other cities. Tim Mecke will superintend the moving of boxes filled with silver coins into my counting rooms here at the plant. Girls will bundle the money into round packages for shipment to the theaters.
“It is very simple. An endless chain which appears quite natural. No one but ourselves will know that the coins themselves come from within the plant. There will be one break in the chain; that break will never be suspected.”
“It sounds perfect,” declared Silk. “It’s so big, though, that it takes my breath away. This is the greatest racket I ever heard of. It’s so good that I’m afraid something can queer it.”
“A wise thought,” observed Kendall.
“Some of your stockholders,” suggested Silk. “Like this Doctor Guyon I met at your house last night—”
“Do not fear upon that score,” smiled Kendall. “There are many stockholders in my enterprises; but they are well scattered. Conrad Guyon is an exception. He has various holdings; but he also has absolute confidence in my business ability. I can take care of Guyon. Do not worry.”
Silk laughed.
“Nevertheless,” resumed Kendall, “there is a danger — one that you have not observed. It involves another man whom you met last night.”
“Which one?”
“Clayton Landow. The governor’s son.”
“How does he figure?”
“As general manager of the theatrical enterprise. He is already puzzled because of my new arrangements in handling the funds.”
“He is going to marry your niece.”
“Exactly. That is why he holds his present job. Nevertheless, young Landow is too honest and too observant. I cannot remove him, and his present position will enable him to cause us trouble.”
“What can you do about it?”
Foulkrod Kendall continued to wear his knowing smile. He tapped the desk thoughtfully as he eyed Silk Elverton. Then, with a motion from his pocket he tossed a key across to Silk.
“What’s this?” questioned the crook.
“I assume, Elverton,” said Kendall, “that you are a man of many capabilities. Did you ever experiment in the craft of forgery?”
Silk grinned and nodded.
“Your task, then,” resumed Kendall, “will be an easy one. Here” — the millionaire produced a slip of paper — “is the combination of the safe in young Landow’s offices. In that safe are books — Landow’s own records, also old books given him by the theater managers.
“Work on the old books. Raise the amount of any entries that seem lower than usual. Leave the totals as they are; but fix them so they appear to be amounts inscribed over erasures. You get my point?”
“I get it,” grinned Silk. “We’ll have the goods on Landow. It will look as though he faked the totals before entering them in his book.”
“Exactly,” returned Kendall. “But when the books are checked, there will be several thousand dollars missing. The theft of that cash can be pinned on Landow.”
“Which will keep him quiet.”
Foulkrod Kendall arose.
“I am going home,” he said. “Clayton Landow will be at my house. You go to his office. Get to work. When he leaves, I shall call you there. He frequently visits the office late at night. My call will give you time to make a get-away.”
THE plotters left by the side door. Foulkrod Kendall went one way; Silk Elverton another. It was precisely ten o’clock when the millionaire reached his mansion to find his niece and Clayton Landow talking in the living room.
Kendall chatted for a while, then went into an adjoining room, where he had a desk. Carefully leaving the door ajar, Kendall could hear Landow’s voice talking to the girl.
There was a window in this ground-floor room. The shade was not drawn; the pane, facing the dark lawn, was nothing more than a black rectangle. Slowly, the window sash began to move upward until a small crack was visible at the bottom. Through that space, keen eyes were peering, hidden ears were listening.
The Shadow had arrived!
Eleven o’clock struck. Kendall heard something from the other room. He arose and opened the door. He spoke to Clayton Landow.
“You’re not leaving, are you, Clayton?” he questioned.
“Very soon,” returned the governor’s son. “I was just telling Miriam that I must stop down at the office tonight.”
“Come in and see me a few minutes before you go,” suggested Kendall.
This time, the millionaire actually closed the door behind him. He seized the telephone and called a number. He heard Silk Elverton’s cautious voice across the line.
“How goes it?” questioned Kendall. “Ah! Excellent… Will fifteen minutes do? Good… He is coming to the office… I can keep him here for a quarter of an hour… Good… I’m glad you can finish it in this one trip…”
Kendall smiled as he hung up the receiver. He arose to go back to the living room to make sure that Landow was remaining. The millionaire noticed a draft; before he could turn to see where it came from, the blackened window sash slid noiselessly into place. The Shadow was gone.
FIFTEEN minutes later, a phantom shape appeared upon the street in front of the building where Clayton Landow’s office was located. The figure of The Shadow came momentarily into view. It turned toward the blackened door of the building, then merged with darkness.
A man was sneaking out from the building. He passed by the spot where The Shadow was standing. Satisfied that no one was in view, the man walked into a patch of light.
His shrewd, handsome face was fully visible. The Shadow knew his identity. The prowler was Silk Elverton. There could be no doubt of that fact.