Mardi Gras Mystery

CHAPTER XIII. THE FINAL MOVES

HARRY VINCENT, in planning an emergency call, had known that he could reach The Shadow at Lester Hayd’s. The Shadow had gone to the loan president’s home; he had informed Harry that he would remain there throughout the evening.

Time had passed lazily for The Shadow. He and Hayd were together in the latter’s library. In the leisurely fashion of Lamont Cranston, The Shadow had just completed the long task of examining Hayd’s collection of old New Orleans literature.

Surrounded by shelves of massive books, The Shadow gazed approvingly as he lighted a cigar that Hayd had proffered him. Pamphlets and loose documents did not represent Hayd’s only collection. Hayd was a book fancier as well; and the many first editions in his library were proof that he had spent a small fortune on his hobby. Hayd had gone in for luxury along with his collecting of rarities. His home was a huge mansion that had been modernized some years before. He owned several automobiles and kept a personnel of well-trained servants, including chauffeurs, butlers and footmen. The Shadow had seen several of these servitors during dinner and the hours following.

“What else do you collect?” asked The Shadow.

“An interesting question,” laughed Hayd, in rumbly tone. “What made you think that I have other interests?”

“The completeness of your arrangements,” explained The Shadow. “For a collector, you are methodical; yet not deeply familiar with your hobbies. That points to a variety of interests.”

“I collect odd weapons,” stated Hayd. “Come with me, Cranston, and I shall show you the room. It is at the back of the house, in what was once the old kitchen. You will find everything from Indian arrowheads to blunderbusses.”

They went from the library, through the hall, to a door which Hayd unlocked. When the light was turned on, The Shadow saw a most extensive array of curious instruments. About the walls were swords and cutlasses; Zulu spears and European lances. One corner was filled with antique pistols; another had racks of muskets, fusils and rifles.

Glass display cases contained the smaller items — the arrowheads of which Hayd had spoken; also knives of various sorts — poniards, bolos, machetes. The Shadow walked along and observed a Malay creese among the swords. Then he examined a magnificent scimitar that had once belonged to some sultan’s guard.

“A regular arsenal,” remarked The Shadow.

“Yes,” affirmed Hayd, “and with modern weapons as well. Cranston, these trophies are something of a protection. They would serve well, in case burglars entered.”

“How so?”

“All my servants have keys to the room. Keys that will unlock any one of the three doors. They are trained for emergency. I should like to see rogues enter here, as they did at Blouchet’s last night. My men would make short work of them.”

“Blouchet?” The Shadow spoke the name as though recalling it. “Wasn’t he the young fellow who came into your office the other day? The one who had been gambling?”

“That was Blouchet,” assured Hayd. “Humph! I wonder what he has been up to. I can not understand how he raised a thousand dollars so easily. I wonder if he has been mixing into doubtful activities.”

“According to the newspapers, he had no money in the place.”

“So I understand. Yet he must have had some money, or those scoundrels would not have attacked him. We know, of course, that he did have one thousand dollars. Blouchet must have spent some considerable sums, previously.”

“He has wealthy friends?”

“A few, I believe. Let me see; what was the name of that chap who endorsed his note. I have it — Randon. Carl Randon. That chap has a fair-sized fortune, I understand. I had never heard of him until he was mentioned by Blouchet. But our investigators checked on Randon’s financial status.”

“Do you investigate all loans?”

“We have to do so. Cranston, my life is a most tiring one. I stay home every night, just because of calls that keep coming from the office. Reports on the credit of so and so. Questions to be answered about endorsements. Sometimes” — Hayd shook his head and smiled — “sometimes I wish that anything would break loose. Just so that the humdrum of life would end. Every time the telephone bell rings it means some question has perplexed the office. Three times this evening, I had to answer such calls.

“Every time a visitor arrives — that is, an uninvited visitor — it concerns the matter of a loan. Some persons are referred to me personally, you understand. Those who can offer better than ordinary credit.”

“Do you grant them loans yourself?” inquired The Shadow.

“Frequently,” replied Hayd. “That is why I have to be on guard. It is a fairly well-known fact that I keep money here in the house. I used to live in constant fear of raids by crooks. Right now, I think that I would welcome one.”

“Because you are prepared for it?”

“Yes. So well prepared that the first attempt would be the last. If those rogues had only come here instead of to Blouchet’s, I would have corralled the lot of them.”

“Blouchet didn’t do so badly.”

“That is true. Yes. I must admire the young man for a fighter, even though he is a gambler as well. You see, Cranston” — Hayd pointed across the room — “this arsenal, as you term it, can be reached from three portions of my house. From the hallway, on the front; from the wing, on the right; from my study, on the left. In case of any alarm, my servants would respond. They know which of these guns are loaded. They know how to handle firearms.”

A telephone bell dingled while Hayd was speaking. The big man uttered an annoyed grunt; then opened the front door of the room. He called to a servant who was approaching the telephone in the hall.

“Never mind, Craylon,” rumbled Hayd. “It is probably a call for me. I shall answer it in the study.”

UNLOCKING a side door of the room, Hayd stepped into a square-shaped apartment which looked like an office. A desk was in the center of the room. A huge safe occupied the far wall. The windows of the room were barred. Hayd picked up a telephone from the desk, answered the call; then handed the instrument to The Shadow, who had followed him into the study.

“For you, Cranston,” he stated. “Your hotel is calling.”

The Shadow took the telephone. He heard Harry Vincent’s voice. He spoke in leisurely fashion.

“A telegram from New York?” he questioned. “Open it, please… Yes… Read it to me… Certainly, you have my permission to open it… Yes… Yes… Proceed… So they want an answer… Very well, I shall attend to it when I reach the hotel… Yes. Hold the telegram until I arrive…” In his faked conversation, The Shadow was receiving the report from Harry. The agent had put a final question: Should he be ready at Andrew Blouchet’s? The Shadow’s statement to hold the telegram meant that Harry could expect a return call.

Hanging up the receiver, The Shadow sat down in a chair. A worried look appeared upon his disguised countenance.

“Bad news?” inquired Hayd.

“Not exactly,” replied The Shadow. “Just word that a friend of mine is coming into town. A chap named Silford. He’s coming by plane from Florida. He wired New York to learn where he could reach me here. They told him; then wired me.”

“You don’t want to see him?”

“No. He wants to borrow money. I cannot lend it to him.”

“He would give you no security?”

Hayd’s tone denoted that he was keenly interested. The Shadow was completely covering the actual details of Harry’s call. This was good policy; for The Shadow was keeping his connection with Blouchet a secret.

“Silford is all right,” explained The Shadow, “but he is a nuisance. He has money, plenty of it, but he totally ignores the necessity of establishing credit when he travels. He comes in on his friends and wants a few thousand dollars. He is offended if they refuse him.

“Look at my position. I have only a few thousand dollars with me. If I give the money to Silford, it will mean inconvenience, getting more. Worst of all, the bounder has a habit of almost demanding money from you. He offers to pay interest on it. According to his view, anyone should jump at the chance.”

Hayd rumbled a chuckle; then spoke:

“Too bad you are not in the loan business, Cranston.”

“I wish sometimes that I followed such a profession,” said The Shadow, gloomily. “Silford is not the only wealthy pest that I have encountered. I run into them everywhere. Shanghai, Cairo, Bombay. Friends who have thousands of dollars in New York, but no cash in their pockets. I should like to find a remedy for such persons.”

“I can supply one in the case of Silford,” remarked Hayd. “When he comes in tomorrow, send him to my office.”

“No, indeed.” The Shadow shook his head. “If Silford saw that sign of yours, he would be through with me forever. It would be a cure, though. Hm-m-m. No — I cannot afford to lose a friend like Silford. He has good points as well as bad.”

“Tell him to come here in the evening,” put in Hayd. “I can arrange a loan for him, at the normal interest rate charged by local banking houses. Providing, of course, that he has either security, or your endorsement.”

“Maybe it would be better if I sent him to Durflee, the banker I met at the Delta Club. I would prefer that, Hayd. When Silford arrives tomorrow evening—”

“Durflee’s bank will be closed.”

“I had not thought of that. Very well, Hayd, I shall send him to you.”

THE SHADOW glanced at his watch. He decided that it was time to go back to the hotel. Hayd pressed a button and summoned a servant named Luder. He told him to have Allan bring the sport coupe.

Hayd and The Shadow strolled from the study through a living room; then out into the hall. The telephone rang. Hayd answered it. The Shadow looked inquiringly toward him.

“From the office,” chuckled Hayd. “Not for you this time, Cranston.” Then, across the wire, he added:

“Yes… What is it?… A false endorsement?.. Glad you found it out… Suppose you attend to it… Yes, tonight. It would be unwise to delay in such a matter… Good… Yes, that will be satisfactory…” The car was arriving at the front door. Hayd hung up and joined The Shadow. The loan company president grumbled as they walked out to the large portico that fronted the mansion.

“They try every trick to beat us,” asserted Hayd. “That’s the trouble with the loan business. The office just uncovered a case where a man falsified an endorsement. A criminal offense, if we cared to press it.

“That reminds me of something, Cranston. If you send Silford out here — or anyone else — be sure to call me beforehand. You are a man of wealth. Your signature may be known to forgers. But these scoundrels seldom have the nerve to fake a telephone call. I can recognize voices. I shall know yours when I hear it.”

The Shadow joined Allan in the coupe. The car rolled townward, speeding along streets where traffic was thin.

Fifteen minutes later, The Shadow stepped from the car. He was outside the hotel where Hayd had stopped for him before dinner. Entering the lobby, The Shadow found a telephone booth. He dialed a quick call to Andrew Blouchet’s apartment.

Tonight, The Shadow had learned facts that pleased him. He had gained double opportunity. First, through events at Blouchet’s; second, through observation at Hayd’s. He had found a way to halt the moves of crooks; to hold them inactive and uncertain until the morrow. Then, when the time for a showdown had arrived, he would have the place to meet them. A spot where men of crime would meet with opposition that they did not anticipate.

The final moves would be finished soon. This telephone call would assure that fact. In a sense, it would complete The Shadow’s preparation, even though there were more details to be handled within the next hour. Those, however, were deeds that The Shadow could accomplish with routine swiftness.

Persons who figured in the game had become unwitting pawns upon The Shadow’s board. Innocent or guilty, he intended to move them as he chose. Then would the stage be set for the final outcome. For The Shadow knew the issue.