Shadowed Millions

CHAPTER XI HENDRIX DECIDES

JOHN HENDRIX was sitting at the big desk in the office of his apartment, the clock beside him showed twenty minutes after eight. The financier was making a notation on a sheet of paper when Jermyn entered.

Hendrix did not appear to notice Jermyn until the man stood directly in front of him. Then the financier glanced up with an inquiring expression on his face.

“He has gone, sir,” announced Jermyn in a low voice.

“You made sure that he went downstairs?” asked Hendrix.

“Positively, sir,” replied Jermyn.

Hendrix leaned back in his swivel chair and glanced at the clock again. For the first time he appeared restless and nervous. He began to drum upon the desk with his flabby fist. He made no comment, and Jermyn stood by, a perfect figure of a mechanical man. Jermyn was always calm and expressionless.

Hendrix became more restless as seconds ticked by. One minute passed; then two. Hendrix was watching the clock.

A short ring interrupted his drumming. He looked up quickly and spoke to Jermyn.

“Answer the door, quickly, Jermyn,” he said, “that must be Powell, now.”

Jermyn was methodical even as he hurried. Hendrix watched him impatiently as he crossed the room.

The financier’s nervousness continued until Jermyn reappeared, followed by Martin Powell.

In the light, Martin Powell made a square, chunky figure. His face was fine and chiseled. He looked toward Hendrix with a keen, knowing glance. The financier motioned to a chair, and the investigator calmly seated himself.

“SORRY I’m a trifle late, Mr. Hendrix,” said Powell. “After I received your message to be here at eight fifteen, I went up to Legira’s place to take another look. I figured it would take me about twenty minutes to get here. I didn’t allow for a taxi delay.”

“You were at Legira’s?” questioned Hendrix quickly.

“Outside of his house,” returned Powell. “It was a worth-while trip, too—”

“Ah! You learned something?”

“Nothing definite. The point is this, Mr. Hendrix. My job has been to watch the people who visit Legira, as well as keeping tabs on the man himself. You’ve only heard from me occasionally, because everything has appeared to be regular up there.”

“But tonight?”

“Well, there was a man went in to see him about twenty minutes of eight. That would have been regular, in my opinion, but it happened to be the same man who showed up there before. It was the fellow who called on him the night that Legira came in so late, about ten days ago.”

“I remember,” said Hendrix, nodding. “You’ve been watching for that man, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir. He’s no crook, but he doesn’t look right to me. So when he showed up tonight, I stayed around to see what happened.”

“And then—”

“Well, he was still there when I had to leave to come here.”

“I see,” mused Hendrix. “By the way, Powell, your duties have been quite light during the past several days. Your reports have all been uniform. I take it that you have kept a very close check on Legira.”

“Yes, sir. As much as necessary. You know that my main work was ended, more than a week ago, when you said that Legira had been approved.”

“Of course. I simply kept you on because of that one visitor who came after midnight. I thought it best for you to continue with your work. I am glad now that you did remain on the job. Tell me, Powell, when did you last see Alvarez Legira?”

“Between seven fifteen and seven thirty tonight, sir. I was watching him—”

Powell paused in surprise as he noted the look of complete amazement that had come over the financier’s face. The investigator waited for Hendrix to speak.

“Where did you see Legira?” came the eager question.

“Entering his home, sir—”

“Shortly before seven thirty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are mistaken, Powell!”

“Not at all, sir.”

Hendrix turned and beckoned to Jermyn.

“Jermyn,” he requested, “tell Powell where Legira was at seven thirty tonight.”

“Dining with you, sir,” replied Jermyn seriously. “Here in this apartment, sir.”

IT was Powell’s turn to register bewilderment. He looked from Hendrix to Jermyn as though completely doubtful of their veracity. When he realized that both were serious in their statements, a puzzled frown furrowed the investigator’s forehead.

“There’s something phony here!” declared Powell. “I trailed Legira and that man of his, Lopez, from the time they left the consulate office. They had dinner together, at a hotel near Legira’s house—”

“You saw Legira with Lopez?” demanded Hendrix. “Impossible!”

“I saw him this morning,” responded the investigator. “I was hanging around his office up until five o’clock. It was nearly five when I called my place and got the message to get in touch with you. Appointment here after eight fifteen. So I followed Legira—”

“Powell,” said Hendrix seriously, “I brought you here to ask your advice. Now, I am doubly glad that you have come. I suspected that Legira might be playing a double game. Now, I am sure that matters are not as they should be.

“Legira came here to-day. He behaved in strange fashion, and asked me to maintain secrecy regarding his visit. He demanded the delivery of certain funds to which he is entitled. I made the arrangements.

“Now, he has left, after spending several hours here. He stated that he had not been at his residence for the past few days. Yet you tell me.—”

“Legira has been there!” blurted Powell angrily. “I have seen him, right along. You have been deceived by an impostor!”

“Perhaps,” said Hendrix thoughtfully. “There is also a possibility that you have been deceived.”

“Maybe,” said Powell reluctantly. “But it seems more likely to me that some fellow is trying to put one over on you. Coming here as Legira—”

In reply, Hendrix lifted two papers from his desk. One was an agreement signed by Alvarez Legira. The other was the receipt which the consul had signed. The two signatures were identical.

“Legira signed one of those nearly ten days ago,” remarked Hendrix. “He signed the other here, this afternoon.”

“It’s got me beat,” admitted Powell, in a puzzled tone.

“It settles everything in my mind,” remarked Hendrix quietly. “There is no need for us to discuss the matter further. Legira is guilty of duplicity. Fortunately, I have made arrangements to prevent the delivery of the funds.”

The financier glanced at the clock. It showed quarter before nine. John Hendrix smiled wisely. He turned to Jermyn and noted that the man had assumed a listening attitude. Seeing Hendrix glance in his direction, Jermyn snapped from his reverie.

“Is anything the matter, Jermyn?” quizzed Hendrix.

“Nothing, sir,” replied the man, in an abashed manner. “Just imagination, sir. Thought I heard the front door open.”

“It would be wise to look, Jermyn.”

When the man had gone on his errand, Hendrix spoke solemnly to Powell.

“If the man who came here is a pretender,” he said, “I must stop him at once. If he is the genuine Legira — as I feel convinced he is — it shows that the man is engaged in some illicit enterprise. Otherwise, he would not have some person taking his place during his absence.”

“Why not call his residence?” suggested Powell.

“Not yet,” returned Hendrix. “I have a full fifteen minutes in which to notify Cody at the Baltham Trust to suspend all negotiations with Legira.”

Jermyn returned as the financier finished speaking. He shook his head to indicate that he had found nothing amiss.

“The door was closed, sir,” he declared. “I suppose I merely fancied that I heard some one enter.”

“Very good, Jermyn,” said Hendrix. “Pass me that telephone. I have an important call to make immediately.”

Jermyn obeyed the order. With the telephone in his hand, Hendrix paused long enough to make another statement to Martin Powell.

“Alvarez Legira is playing a game,” declared the financier. “He has pretended that his schemes are legitimate. Actually, he has been angling to obtain the sum of ten million dollars.”

“Ten million dollars!” cried Powell.

“Yes,” continued Hendrix, “that is the amount at stake. Everything has been arranged for Legira to receive it upon demand. Yet the funds have not been actually delivered to him. I am the only one who can frustrate his schemes. When I lift this receiver, it means the beginning of the end.

“As matters now stand, Legira has access to the millions. When I have completed this telephone call, the schemer will find his chances ended. It will be an impossibility for Alvarez Legira ever to obtain the money.”

HENDRIX was speaking dramatically. His flabby face registered triumph. Portly and lethargic, Hendrix had none of the appearance that denotes a clever man. Nevertheless, he was about to score a victory over the shrewd Legira.

The ticking clock showed ten minutes before the hour. Hendrix smiled. There was ample time. He enjoyed this triumph in which he was playing the principal role, with Powell and Jermyn as awestruck spectators.

The financier looked at Powell; then at Jermyn. There, his gaze froze. Hendrix noted that Jermyn’s face had paled; that the man was not listening to what his master was saying; that he was staring wild-eyed toward the door of the office.

Martin Powell caught the change in the financier’s expression. He saw Hendrix glance toward the door; instinctively, the investigator did the same.

The hallway beyond was dark, due to an unlighted turn that led into the office. Some one was standing in that hall — a man whose face was indistinguishable in the gloom. But it was not that fact that interested the gazers.

The man’s hand was in plain view. It held a shining revolver. The weapon was directed toward John Hendrix, threatening death, should he make a single move!