Shadowed Millions

CHAPTER XIV LEGIRA PROCEEDS

“MR. LEGIRA to see you, sir.”

The speaker was a watchman at the Baltham Trust Company.

Roger Cody, the quiet-faced representative of John Hendrix, nodded and told the watchman to bring the visitor into the office. Cody sat back quietly in his chair and waited for Legira to appear.

The suave South American entered and bowed, smilingly. Behind him was the stalwart form of his manservant, Francisco.

Legira took a chair at Cody’s invitation and Francisco stood silently in the corner of the little office.

Cody and Legira had met before, so that introductions were unnecessary. To Cody, this evening’s negotiation was no more than a matter of routine. Often, before, he had handled large affairs as representative for John Hendrix.

There was only one point that caused doubt in Cody’s mind. That was the lateness of Legira’s arrival. The clock on the desk showed half past nine.

“I expected you before nine o’clock, Mr. Legira,” said Cody. “I thought you were not coming.”

“I was unavoidably delayed,” returned Legira. “My man here” — he indicated Francisco — “did not meet me as I had intended. I was forced to wait for him a half hour.”

“Ah, yes,” said Cody. “I see. However, it does not matter greatly, Mr. Legira. My instructions are to deliver to you a box which is in my possession. Owing to the nature of its contents, I was also told to have at your disposal a suitable method of transportation — namely an armored car—”

“That is unnecessary, Mr Cody,” declared Legira, in a suave tone. “I am fully prepared to take care of the box in question. That has all been arranged with Mr. Hendrix.

“It also accounts for my delay. I could not well come here without Francisco, as he is my trusted man who will help me with the transportation.”

Roger Cody felt uneasy. He knew the general nature of this transaction. At the same time, he was used to obeying orders received from Hendrix.

The financier had told him specifically that he should deliver the funds to Legira unless he heard to the contrary before nine o’clock. Cody had received no word from Hendrix, though he had supposed that the financier would call to let him know that the deal should proceed.

Cody wondered whether or not he should call back to Hendrix, and was on the point of reaching for the telephone when he noticed the clock.

It was half an hour after the stipulated time. Surely, Hendrix would have called if any change in plans had been made. The financier was a man who demanded obedience to the letter when he gave his orders.

Legira sensed Cody’s indecision. He spoke in a suave, easy tone that served to relieve the man’s doubts.

“I am late, Mr. Cody,” he said. “Suppose we complete this transaction as quickly as possible. I believe that Mr. Hendrix gave instructions to that effect?”

“Very well,” said Cody.

HE went to a safe in the corner of the room and opened the combination. Waving through the glass partition, he summoned the watchman.

The bank attendant, aided by Francisco, drew forth a metal box, which was both bulky and heavy.

“You will sign here, Mr. Legira,” said Cody, extending a paper.

“I signed a paper for Mr. Hendrix before—”

“Yes, of course. This is simply my record.”

Legira signed the paper. Cody produced a letter that bore the consul’s signature and compared both in a methodical manner. He nodded and looked inquiringly toward Legira.

“Where do you wish the box to go?” he asked.

“I have a car outside,” declared Legira. “I shall attend to it. Thank you, Mr. Cody.”

The men shook hands and the South American led the way through the side door of the bank where another watchman stared at the short procession.

A sedan was parked on the side street, with a driver at the wheel. Legira opened the rear door. Francisco and the watchman hoisted the box into the back of the car Legira entered and sat down. Francisco joined the driver. The watchman went back into the bank.

As he neared the office where Legira had conferred with Cody, the watchman noted that Cody was telephoning. He heard the conversation.

“Hello — hello—”

Cody’s voice seemed excited. Evidently he did not recognize the person who was talking from the other end. A puzzled expression came over his face.

“This is Mr. Cody calling, from the Baltham Trust Company—”

There was momentary pause. Cody’s face turned white.

“You mean — you mean that Mr. Hendrix is dead — killed—”

Cody dropped the telephone. He leaped to his feet and beckoned to the watchman. Without waiting for the man to enter, Cody dashed through the door of the office.

“Hurry!” he exclaimed. “See if they have gone! We must stop them! Mr. Hendrix has been murdered!”

Both men rushed to the side door of the bank. When they reached the street they found it empty. Legira and his companions had driven away during the brief interval.

“I should have called him before,” moaned Cody. “I didn’t realize that this might have happened. He may even have been dead long before nine o’clock!”

Cody stood in a daze, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. He was perturbed, despite the fact that he had followed instructions as they had been given. The only lulling thought in his mind was the fact that, after all, the transaction had probably been concluded as Hendrix had intended it.

Cody stared along the deserted street, seeking vainly and hopelessly to see some sign of the departed car.

IN that very car, some blocks away, Legira, leaning forward in the back seat, was speaking to the driver in a low, tense voice.

“We must hurry, Desmond,” he said. “You made a great mistake in being late tonight—”

“I had to be careful,” growled Desmond, who was at the wheel of the car.

“You told me not to be conspicuous while waiting for you at the corner. A cop ordered me to move along so I had to. Thought I better give you plenty of time. Then I got caught in a traffic jam. That’s why you had to wait for me.”

“Well, it’s all right now,” responded Legira. “Just the same, a man is generally on time when he has a transaction involving mill—”

The consul stopped abruptly. It was not his policy to reveal any more of his plans than necessary. Frank Desmond was a useful man to Legira. Much of his usefulness depended upon the fact that he knew very little of what Legira was doing. Legira was depending on Desmond’s help now, chiefly because he needed an undercover agent whom his enemies could not possibly suspect.

“I am nervous, Desmond,” remarked Legira in a more friendly tone. “You have no idea of the problems which have confronted me. People up here in New York can go about their affairs in a simple manner. That is not possible in Santander. I am of Santander and I must do as they do in my country. You understand?”

“Certainly,” replied Desmond. “Sorry I caused you trouble, Legira. You can depend on me to help you from now on. Just so long as I get what’s coming to me.”

“You will receive full payment tonight,” said Legira. “We shall go to the house immediately,” he added in a commanding voice. “You are sure that everything is safe out there?”

“Absolutely,” declared Desmond, full of assurance. “I was out there this afternoon. It’s the best spot on Long Island; no one around; no neighbors to bother you.”

“I chose the place long ago,” declared Legira, “and I chose it with a purpose. Since I have conducted all negotiations through you, Desmond, there is not the slightest possible chance that any one should know of my connection with the house. I shall not be there long.”

The car was swinging rapidly uptown. Desmond flung a glance over his shoulder. He could see Legira’s face, white and drawn. Desmond chanced a suggestion.

“I am going to stop at my apartment,” he said. “It would be best to make sure that all is well. I can call Lopez from there if you wish?”

“Do not telephone to Lopez!” exclaimed Legira. “I have told you to hold no communication with him. It is all right for him to call you and leave a message for me. I instructed him in that, by telephone. Stop at your apartment, by all means, but only find out if Lopez has called you.”

Desmond grumbled an affirmative response. He piloted the car silently, and drew up before a tall apartment building. He parked the machine near the entrance. He left the car and entered the building.

Legira was alone with Francisco. The consul, nervous and worried, seemed a changed man. In his hand he held an automatic. He waited impatiently for Desmond’s return. It was several minutes before the man arrived.

“Message from Lopez,” announced Desmond, as he took the wheel.

“You did not call him?” quizzed Legira, sharply.

“Of course not,” rejoined Desmond.

“All right, then,” said Legira. “Let us move along, Desmond, there is no time for delay of any sort.”

The car pulled away from the curb. It sped toward the nearest corner, swerved and swung into the light of an avenue. Hardly had it departed, before another car was in motion.

This was a coupe, that had been lingering in the darkness, parked beside the apartment house. It picked up the pursuit as it reached the avenue. It kept a respectable distance in the rear of the speeding sedan. The big car crossed the Queensborough Bridge and headed eastward on Long Island. Still, the coupe followed it.

Alvarez Legira, with ten million dollars in his possession was hastening toward a spot of security, confident that no one in all New York could know his destination, save those two who accompanied him.

Yet, hard on the heels of the fleeing men, another was following. Legira could elude his enemies. He could evade the forces of the law.

But he could not escape The Shadow!