Shadowed Millions

CHAPTER II LEGIRA ANSWERS QUESTIONS

THE silent group of financiers listened with intense interest while Alvarez Legira spoke persuasively. The soft, purring voice of the South American carried a convincing tone.

With keen eyes watching his auditors, Legira unfolded a large map and spread it upon the table. All eyes followed his finger as it indicated the territorial divisions that Legira had marked upon the chart.

“The state of Santander,” explained the consul, “has always been regarded as an important territorial division of the Republic of Colombia. It has at times been practically an autonomous government; at other periods, it has been merely a province of Colombia. It bears a close relationship to bordering territories of Venezuela, leading to Lake Maracaibo, which provides outlet to the Caribbean Sea.

“The Spanish conquerors swept past this district when they drove southward. It was also a scene of strife during the campaigns of Simon Bolivar, the Liberator. Thus the natural resources of Santander have always been neglected.

“We, of Santander, had great hopes that through trade with the United States, we could develop the tremendous mineral wealth that has not, as yet, been touched. Unfortunately, the controversy between Colombia and the United States that followed the affair of the Panama Canal produced a prejudice throughout Colombia.

“Now, through the work of important men in Santander, we have virtually established a new republic, an offshoot of Colombia, with a territorial grant from Venezuela. We have managed to curb the factions that have demanded violent revolution.

“The Republic of Santander is organized for peaceful development and stable government. With the payment of indemnities to Colombia and Venezuela, we shall take our place among the nations of the world.”

As Legira completed his remarks, his face took on the expression of the zealous patriot — a complete change from the air of an intriguing schemer. His quiet, effective tones produced nods of approbation from the listeners.

Legira sensed that he had gained results. He paused and waited for a full moment. Then, in an easy manner, he added:

“We require ten million dollars to assure the independence of Santander. In return for that amount, we shall grant full and exclusive concessions to the American interests which you represent. You have already been presented with the details of the plan. I have summarized my proposal. I await your answer.”

Legira resumed his seat at the end of the table. His languorous assurance returned. He replenished his cigarette holder and leaned back in his chair, puffing away. He was expecting questions; and one came from John Hendrix, the spokesman of the financiers.

“YOUR proposal has been carefully considered,” declared the portly man. “It appears bona fide, Legira. I may add that we have discussed it — confidentially, of course — with certain men well acquainted with affairs in South America. They have spoken in its favor.”

Legira smiled in confident manner.

“In fact,” resumed Hendrix, “we have obtained opinions from certain South Americans, themselves. One man in particular — Rodriguez Zelva — studied the proposal in detail.”

Legira’s eyes opened suddenly at the mention of the name. He stared intently toward Hendrix; then quickly resumed his air of indifference. Only the sharp clicking of his teeth against the stem of the cigarette holder indicated Legira’s momentary perturbation.

“Mr. Zelva,” continued Hendrix, “is a prominent Venezuelan, who is at present in New York. He spoke highly of the Santander plans, and gave us full assurance that the newly formed government would abide by its agreements.”

Legira’s surprise turned to perplexity; then his face assumed an expression of pleased confidence. He smiled as he looked about the group. Then his features froze as he encountered the cold stare of a man seated at the side of the table.

Until now, Alvarez Legira had considered these men as a group, not as individuals. It was with both surprise and alarm that he discovered this one man who was different.

Legira saw a face that was firm and impassive, a countenance as rigid and as impenetrable as his own. The eyes that peered from the masklike visage were inscrutable in their glance. Legira realized that those eyes were searching, watching him with hawkish attitude.

Who was this stranger, so different from the other financiers? What was the meaning of his inscrutable gaze?

Legira was ill at ease. He knew that he had met a man who was more than his match. Was the man a friend or an enemy?

The voice of John Hendrix came in tones that seemed far away to Alvarez Legira. The South American shook himself from the hypnotic stare that had so amazed him, and managed to look toward Hendrix.

“The chief question,” Hendrix was saying, “concerns the manner of these negotiations. Frankly, Legira, the secrecy upon which you have insisted has raised doubts in our minds. You asked me to arrange this meeting at this unusual time, and in this unusual place. We want to know why you have insisted on that point.”

Legira regained his suavity with an effort. He looked about him, taking care to avoid the glance of the hawk-faced man at the side of the table. He spoke with polished dignity.

“Gentlemen,” he declared, “the sum of ten million dollars is vital in the affairs of Santander. All is settled; all is waiting. It is the desire of the new republic’s officials to call an expected meeting of sworn delegates from Colombia and Venezuela; and to pay them in full at that time.

“Talk of negotiations, discussion of money that is on the way — these are elements that might lead to changes of policy on the part of our neighbors. Hence I, alone, have been entrusted with the obtaining of the necessary funds.

“All that has been covered in the proposal given you, although it has not been stated in so many words. It is our desire to bring the final arrangement into the hands of two men — myself as representative of Santander; yourself, Mr. Hendrix, as representative of the American interests.

“There are two vital points that I can put as questions. First, are you convinced that the Santander proposal is genuine? Second, are you convinced that I am the authorized agent of my country?”

“We feel that both those points have been established,” replied Hendrix.

“That should be sufficient,” announced Legira, boldly challenging. “Hence I feel justified in asking for your decision. Are you willing to make the payment of ten million dollars?”

“We are,” declared Hendrix.

Legira smiled triumphantly. From now on the situation was in his hands. He saw that Hendrix was about to ask another question. Shrewdly, Legira took action to forestall it.

“You are worried about the arrangements,” he said. “There is no cause for alarm. As accredited representative of Santander, I can avoid all difficulties. It now rests between you and myself, Mr. Hendrix.

“To avoid all complications, the proposal is that you should have the entire amount in your possession, ready for delivery when I request it. Once it is given to me, your responsibility ends and mine begins.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Legira,” interposed a puffy-faced man near the head of the table. “It’s the irregular way of giving you the money—”

“Do you have confidence in Mr. Hendrix?” queried Legira promptly.

“Certainly,” said the puffy man.

“Are you confident that my government has full trust in me?” was the consul’s next question.

“Yes,” came the reply.

Legira simply shrugged his shoulders. Better than any words, the action carried home his thought. Nods of approval came amid a buzzing murmur. It was clear that Legira had good reason for reducing the transaction into terms of individuals.

“When Mr. Hendrix has the money,” purred Legira, “all will be in his capable hands. I, in turn, shall know the proper time to send the millions to Santander. Then, quietly, with avoidance of publicity, I shall obtain the money from Mr. Hendrix, and see to its safe delivery in my native land. When the world learns that great American interests have supported Santander, the entire deal will have been consummated.”

Looking from face to face, Legira knew that he had triumphed. One by one he studied his companions, and saw agreement on every countenance.

Then, at the end of his inspection, he once more encountered the hawk-faced man, who was sitting with folded arms. Legira and this individual locked in a silent stare.

“Unless there are further questions” — Hendrix was speaking to his companions — “we can now give Legira our decision—”

Legira scarcely heard the words. He was watching his adversary, knowing that here was one, at least, who by a single question could ruin his plans. The consul’s assurance began to fade as he saw the lips of that impenetrable face move.

“I have a question.”

The voice was cold. Although the words were spoken to the entire group, Legira knew that they were meant for him, alone.

“A question,” announced Hendrix, rapping the table. “A question from Lamont Cranston.”

LAMONT CRANSTON!

The name was known to Alvarez Legira, although he had never met the man before. He knew that Cranston was a man of great wealth, one who had taken considerable interest in foreign affairs. He had heard Cranston described as a cosmopolitan, whose home was everywhere.

Instinctively, Legira knew that success was no longer in his own hands. It depended entirely upon what Lamont Cranston might have to say.

Legira’s hopes seemed to fade. He dreaded the question that was to come. It could shatter his plans in one moment. He tried to affect an air of indifference as he waited.

“My question is this.” Cranston spoke in slow, emphatic monotone, staring directly at Legira. “Will you give us your absolute word, Mr. Legira, that this entire sum will be utilized for the express purposes which you have stipulated?”

“Positively,” answered Legira.

“To the government of Colombia,” continued Cranston, “to the government of Venezuela; and to the treasury of the new Republic of Santander?”

“For those purposes, and none other,” affirmed Legira.

Lamont Cranston’s eyes were gleaming as they pierced the gaze of Alvarez Legira. The consul waited, his spirit sagging, for he felt that another query was about to come. Then, Lamont Cranston did the unexpected. He turned away and faced John Hendrix.

“I approve the plan,” he said. “I have no further questions.”

Legira gasped in amazement. In one brief second he had been raised from what seemed tragic failure to sure success for his plans. Lamont Cranston, on the verge of ruining his hopes, had suddenly become his stanch supporter!

Before the surprised consul could recover, John Hendrix had rapped the table and called for a vote. Legira heard the chorus:

“Aye!”

There was not a dissenting voice. Legira found himself shaking hands with John Hendrix and accepting the congratulations of others. He affixed his signature to a signed document. The last detail had been arranged.

Ten million dollars!

Alvarez Legira had fought for that stake, and he had won. He gradually regained his composure. He looked about for Lamont Cranston, the man who had furnished the dramatic climax to these negotiations. But he saw no sign of the calm-faced millionaire.

The other men were leaving. Soon, Alvarez Legira was alone with John Hendrix. They talked for a few minutes. Hendrix would have the money within forty-eight hours. Legira could call and make arrangements for its shipment to Santander.

“Jermyn!”

When Hendrix gave his summons, the melancholy secretary appeared from the other room. He was the only one who remained beside the two negotiators. Jermyn was a man who had the confidence of Hendrix. He had been appointed usher at this secret meeting.

“Mr. Legira is leaving, Jermyn,” said Hendrix. “You may show him through the other room.”

Legira shook hands with Hendrix. He took his hat and cane, and left the suite. In the corridor, alone, he glanced in both directions; then headed for the stairs that led to the roof garden. Upward he strode until he reached the top of the final flight.

THERE, Legira peered cautiously from the head of the stairs. With quick, deft movement, he stepped into the lobby. Standing by the wall, he lowered his head, but looked shrewdly about him while he inserted a cigarette in his holder.

Legira saw no one watching him. He lighted his cigarette, strode toward the elevator, and joined a group of people who were leaving the roof.

As he entered the car, Legira’s back was directly toward the stairs that he had left. A sudden sensation gripped him — the feeling that now some one was watching him. He turned; but too late. The door of the car had closed.

Only a split second prevented Alvarez Legira from seeing what he had suspected. Two eyes were burning from the darkness of the stairway — eyes that Legira would have recognized. They were the same eyes that had viewed him so closely during the conference — the eyes of Lamont Cranston.

Now, those eyes had disappeared. No sign of a man was visible. Down through the semidarkness of the stairway, only a swishing sound betokened the descent of a living being. The stairway ended in a side passage on the ground floor, a spot which at this hour was deserted.

There, a tall figure came into view — a strange, silent figure that was seen by no one. A tall man, clad in black, his cloak dropping from his shoulders, his features hidden by the brim of a slouch hat, stood motionless. Had Alvarez Legira been there to see that phantom shape, with the eyes that gleamed from beneath the hat brim, he would have been astounded.

For this mysterious man possessed the eyes of Lamont Cranston, yet he was a totally different individual. In all New York, there was only one who appeared in this strange, fantastic guise. That one was The Shadow — man of the night, whose very name brought terror to the hearts of evildoers.

A soft laugh came from the hidden lips. The black cloak swished and revealed a flash of its crimson lining. Then the man of mystery was gone. Moving swiftly through the door at the end of the passage, he had vanished into the night.

Where crime and danger threatened, there did The Shadow appear. Tonight, he had been present to learn the plans of Alvarez Legira. Evil work was afoot, and The Shadow was prepared to thwart it.

Why had Lamont Cranston questioned Alvarez Legira? Why had he ceased his questioning at the very moment when the consul had expected him to resume his quiz? What was the mystery behind the strange negotiations which Legira had managed to conclude?

The only answer to these problems was a low, uncanny laugh that echoed along the outside wall of the Hotel Corona. Some one, invisible in the darkness, had uttered that weird laugh, and the eerie mirth bore unfathomable foreboding.

It was the laugh of The Shadow. He had observed the secretive actions of Alvarez Legira. Ten million dollars were at stake. Others had been lulled into believing that the money was safe. They did not suspect that a mighty plot was on foot to rob them of immense wealth.

That fact was one which Alvarez Legira had shrewdly avoided mentioning. He believed that his suave speech had produced full confidence, and that none who had heard him tonight could possibly suspect his plans.

In that, Legira had been mistaken.

The Shadow had been at that secret meeting!

The Shadow knew!