Terry Barliss had been the first known victim of Compton Salwood’s thievory. Hence he was the logical one upon whom The Shadow might wish a report. Harry had been deputed to keep in touch with Terry; that was the reason why Harry had dropped in tonight.
“SALWOOD pulled these jobs,” declared Terry emphatically, “yet there is no trace of the missing manuscripts. Apparently they have not been sold. They must be somewhere, and it is likely that Salwood placed them in the hands of a man who was really behind the game.”
“Logical,” agreed Harry, “especially since Salwood was bumped off just when he wanted to squeal.”
“Right,” said Terry. “But how is Cardona going about it to get the big man who engineered the game? I’ll tell you. He is questioning other victims like myself. They’ll all give him the same answer, now that the cat is out of the bag. Each one will provide a trail leading to the same end. All will stop at Compton Salwood.”
Harry nodded soberly.
“Salwood is dead,” resumed Terry. “He was killed so he couldn’t talk. The trail beyond has been blocked. Cardona probably realizes it. I think he’s trying to find out who that mob was working for — the crowd that was wiped out in Salwood’s shop. But it may take him a long, long while before he gets a real clew.”
“I can’t see a better system, though.”
“I can. I believe that the man in back of the game is mighty shrewd. Salwood feared him because he was powerful. If Salwood feared him, so would others. Therefore, to reach for the big man, we should first look for some one who has fears. Some one who may be afraid to talk.”
“You’re turning detective, Terry.”
“Maybe so. I don’t have anything else to do at present, and there’s one hundred thousand dollars at stake so far as I am concerned. I don’t know that the game is over, just because Salwood is dead. Salwood was only a tool.”
“Then you think—”
“I think that we should look for some one who may be a prospective victim. We must find some one who has not been robbed as yet; and particularly some one who has fear of being robbed.”
“You talk as though you knew such a man.”
“I do. Eli Galban.”
HARRY uttered a sharp exclamation. The visit that he and Terry had made to Galban’s home came back in vivid detail. Before Harry could make a comment, Terry delved anew into his budding theory.
“When we went to Galban’s,” he said, “we felt woozy because we met that fellow Fawkes. The place looked terrible at the outset. Then we met Mercher; he was odd, but not formidable. Sanyata, the Jap, was a quiet chap. But Eli Galban, himself, was the greatest contrast. A pleasing man, cheerful in spite of failing health.”
“Set in a place of security also,” mused Harry.
“Exactly,” declared Terry. “What’s more, he was mildly subtle in his remarks. He told us that he was somewhat worried about his possessions. Furthermore, I think he minimized their value. In addition to that, he gave us a very definite lead.”
“Wendel Hargate?”
“Yes. His idea that I should take my manuscript to Hargate was an excellent one. Hargate, however, was not pleased about it. In fact, he stalled very openly before he let us see his manuscript.”
“Which turned out to be a fake, like yours.”
“Yes; and after discovering that fact, Hargate suddenly subsided. He wanted to let the matter drop. Why do you think he did that?”
Harry pondered. The question had perplexed him. He had mentioned Hargate’s odd behavior when he had sent in his report to The Shadow. Harry had not, however, discussed the matter with Terry Barliss.
“I’ll tell you why!” exclaimed Terry suddenly, pounding his fist upon the living-room table. “There’s something phony, and Hargate knows about it. Of all the victims in this mess, Hargate is in a definitely different position.”
“Why?”
“Because,” asserted Terry, “there could not be two of the Villon manuscripts. My uncle claimed to own a unique copy of Villon’s Les Rondeaux de Paris containing the Fifth Ballad. So did Hargate claim to own the manuscript. Both my uncle and Hargate were cagey. About the only person called in to see both manuscripts was Eli Galban.
“There can be only one answer, Harry. Both men owned the same manuscript. I know that my uncle was honest. I’m not so sure about Hargate. I am positive that Salwood stole my uncle’s manuscript. I think I know who received it from him.”
“Yes. What’s more, Hargate was ready with an alibi. He owns a fake Villon manuscript — identical with the one I have. He was ready when we landed on him unexpectedly. He showed us the fake and cried robbery with me.”
“And then—”
“He was afraid I’d get to Salwood. There was probably some evidence in Salwood’s office. He sent some mobsters down there to pick it up. Salwood figured they were coming; he was afraid of Hargate once the game was up. So he called Cardona. It was too late. Hargate’s thugs bumped him off.”
Terry was triumphant as he completed this theory. Harry saw definite logic in his friend’s remarks. There could be no question at all regarding the basis of Terry’s statements.
“YES,” agreed Harry, in a meditative tone, “I can see how that fits, Terry. Salwood did Hargate’s decorating. That doesn’t mean that Hargate was a victim.”
“It means that Hargate was the unloading station,” emphasized Terry. “The game worked both ways. Salwood grabbed the stuff and turned it over to Hargate. He has a big house — Hargate has — and there’s no doubt that he could easily have the stolen volumes well secreted.”
“Do you think that Galban suspects it?”
“Positively. He knows the ways of collectors. They are selfish, Harry. In their quest for priceless volumes, they will stoop to other measures when purchase seems impossible. Galban told us some pointed facts that we were too dull to see.”
“Do you intend to give this theory to Cardona?”
“No,” asserted Terry, rising and pacing across the room. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Harry. I’m going to pay another visit to Wendel Hargate.”
“That might be dangerous.”
“Not as I plan it. I’m going there alone. My pretext will be a discussion of the new developments. Since Hargate and I are both in the same boat, it’s only natural that I should seek a conference with him.”
Harry Vincent shook his head slowly. He was anxious to delay action on Terry’s part. Harry wanted to report this matter and obtain an answer from The Shadow.
“Maybe you’d better wait a while,” suggested Harry.
“Not a bit of it,” responded Terry. “I’m going to Hargate’s tonight.”
“Then I’ll go along, too.”
“No, Harry, I’d rather you’d stay out of it. You were with me when I took Cardona. Hargate might think you were a private detective.”
There was no use of further argument. Terry was set on his plan. He showed immediate trend toward preparation to depart for Hargate’s.
HARRY VINCENT was in a dilemma. The Shadow’s agent realized that persistent effort to change Terry’s plan would lead to nothing. In fact, Harry could see where it might lead to a breach between himself and his new friend.
At first, Harry was tempted to go along with Terry as far as Hargate’s home — something to which Terry would probably not object. Then, as an afterthought, Harry realized that this would prevent him from taking the one course that might be of aid to Terry.
It was Harry’s duty to make an immediate report to The Shadow. With such thought in mind, Harry decided to get away as quickly as possible. He changed his tactics on the moment.