“I summoned no physician. That was for your own sake. Had questions been asked, I should have had to stand up for Fawkes. He had performed a duty that was within his rights. You were a trespasser; I would have had to turn you over to the police.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” said Harry, picking up a piece of buttered toast.
“I felt,” declared Galban, seriously, “that you would prefer to explain your unwarranted behavior to me rather than to a magistrate. When your delirium began to decline, I had Mercher give you an opiate. You slept after that. We kept you here for observation. You look well now that you have awakened.”
“I feel weak, though,” admitted Harry, “weak and dopey.”
“That is to be expected,” declared Galban.
There was an interval of pause. Eli Galban made no comment as Harry drank his coffee. The Shadow’s agent, however, sensed the situation. Galban was awaiting an explanation; yet he was too courteous to demand one. Harry fuddled with the coffee while he planned a story.
SO far as Galban was concerned, Harry decided that the truth would be the best resort. But circumstances made it unwise for The Shadow’s agent to discuss facts too fully. That was something which Harry seldom forgot, no matter how badly he might fare. He had pulled himself out of some real dilemmas in the past. Here, with a friendly man like Galban, the task was not particularly difficult.
It would be easy, Harry knew, to tell Galban that danger threatened. The old man, however, might demand specific details that Harry could not furnish.
It was essential, above all, to mention nothing that might indicate Harry to be the agent of a powerful investigator such as The Shadow.
“I owe you thanks, Mr. Galban,” declared Harry, in his frank manner, as he placed the coffee cup upon the table. “I must admit that my prowling here two nights ago was a most suspicious procedure. In fact, it was hardly justified at all; yet I am willing to explain the reasons in back of it.”
“I should be glad to hear them,” returned Galban.
“It goes back to my visit here with Terry Barliss,” explained Harry. “After we left you, we called on Wendel Hargate. He brought out his Villon manuscript; then declared that he, like my friend Terry Barliss, had been robbed.
“Later, a man named Compton Salwood was killed in his interior decorating shop. A detective — Joe Cardona — unearthed evidence to show that Salwood had been committing robberies on a wholesale scale — stealing books and manuscripts.”
“I have read the newspapers,” nodded Galban. “The name of Salwood was unfamiliar to me at first until I recalled that I had once received a letter from him in which he offered to make an estimate on redecorations for this mansion. I replied that I was not interested.”
“That was wise,” assured Harry. “Both Barliss and Hargate stated that Salwood had been present in their houses. He visited the Barliss home when Terry’s uncle, Shattuck Barliss, was alive. Naturally, Terry felt that he had been robbed by Salwood. He figured, too, that Wendel Hargate was in the same boat. So he decided to visit Hargate.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Galban. “When was that?”
“The night before I came here,” returned Harry. “Terry Barliss went alone to Hargate’s. He promised to inform me what happened there. He did not call me at my hotel. Terry is a friend of mine. I naturally worried when he did not return. I was much disturbed.”
“I see.”
“It occurred to me then that Terry might have decided to pay you another visit, since you were the one who had given him Hargate’s name. So I came here. I saw no signs of a visitor. I was worried. I did not like to call on you alone, because I had come here with Terry Barliss.
“My impulse was to leave; my worry over Terry compelled me to stay. Realizing that I had an ulterior motive in my visit, I decided to take a closer look at the house. It was a mistaken notion, I admit—”
“Apologies are unnecessary,” interposed Galban, with a pleasant smile. “I can appreciate your feelings. However, Mr. Vincent, much though I believe in your sincerity, I must be cautious. Therefore, I must insist upon one point.”
“What is that?”
“You must remain here as my guest, for a limited period. You must subject yourself to a certain amount of surveillance. I can assure you that such is necessary. I have so much at stake that I must be cautious at all cost.”
Galban paused; then delivered his explanation in a frank and serious tone.
“I have enemies,” asserted the old man. “I do not like to name the man whom I suspect; but I am afraid that he may attack me at any time. I can only tell you that the one I fear is the same man who was in back of the robberies committed by Compton Salwood.
“I do not know the fellow’s game. I know only that he is dangerous. He envies my possessions. He may attempt to gain them by desperate robbery. I do not care to inform the police. To do so would require charges against the man whom I suspect. He is too wealthy and too crafty to lay himself open to detection.
“Therefore, I am waiting. I have three faithful servants who will stand by me. The invasion may come at any time. Fawkes thought it had begun when he encountered you. After he saw your face, he was not sure whether you were friend or foe.
“I consider you to be a friend. Yet there is the possibility that I may be deceived. If — by some chance — you should actually be an enemy, it is my part to keep you a prisoner, as I have no desire to harm you.
“If, on the contrary, you are the friend that I believe you to be, it is my duty to see that you do not encounter danger. You can understand my predicament. If I let you leave here, I may be making a grave mistake. If I keep you, I must assure you proper treatment.”
“I think that you have done that already.”
“I have, while you were in a helpless state. Your recovery has changed the situation. Fortunately, it has occurred on what may be the eve of trouble. I want you to remain here only until the crisis is past.”
“I shall be glad to aid you.”
“No. I do not ask that, Vincent. I would be uneasy. If you should turn out to be an enemy, my cause might be lost. As the friend which I credit you with being, you would encounter danger that would make me feel even more at fault.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I have a very simple plan. I shall ask you to remain as my guest, in a room on the second floor. The door will have to be locked. However, I shall send Sanyata there at intervals to see that you are all right. I can assure you that you will be quite comfortable.”
“How long will this last?”
“Until tomorrow. If nothing occurs tonight, we can discuss the future in the morning. However, I know that you require healthful sleep; hence I am not imposing a real hardship upon you.”
The sincerity of Galban’s tone was obvious. As Harry considered it, he realized that the old man had given him a very fair proposition. The only policy was to accept. Otherwise, Galban’s suspicions would be immediately aroused. Harry arose from the table.
“Very well,” he said. “I agree to your terms, Mr. Galban. What is more, I thank you for your fair consideration of my case.”
Galban beckoned to Sanyata. The Japanese approached. At Galban’s order, he opened the door of the elevator. Harry entered the lift; the servant followed. The door shut and they descended to the second floor.
THE opened door revealed a hallway. It was part of a square passage, formed by halls and stairs, that went around the elevator shaft.
Alone with the Japanese, Harry saw a possibility for a mad struggle and an escape down the stairway. Such a course, however, would not only be damaging to Harry’s cause; it would also lead to an encounter between Harry and Fawkes, who was probably below. Unarmed, Harry had no relish for a conflict with the huge brute who served as Galban’s watchdog.