Shadowed Millions

CHAPTER XX DESMOND SCHEMES

WHEN Joe Cardona had looked at the columns in the evening newspaper, his interest in the paragraph that spoke of foreign negotiations had been merely a passing one. Such vague references were of no account, in Cardona’s mind.

Yet that passage in the report had found a keenly interested reader elsewhere. Seated in his comfortable office, Frank Desmond, pretended employment manager, was reading it over and over again.

Desmond laid the newspaper aside. He had read full accounts of the murders in the morning journals and had gone through the evening edition out of curiosity. This minor angle of the case — one that had not appeared in the morning newspapers — had startled Desmond.

As Desmond pondered, the telephone rang. The pudgy man answered it. He heard the voice of Alvarez Legira, speaking in low, careful words.

“All is arranged,” said the consul. “I am leaving at nine o’clock tonight. The Cordova is off the Long Island coast. Have you communicated with Lopez?”

“Yes,” returned Desmond, briskly. “Called him this morning. Told him he would hear from me later.”

“Tell him to wait until after nine o’clock,” ordered Legira. “Then he may arrange to escape or to call the police. You understand?”

“Yes.”

Desmond hung up the telephone and became thoughtful. He picked up the newspaper and again read the paragraphs that had interested him. A shrewd, evil look flickered over the pudgy face.

Frank Desmond was thinking of that box which he had helped Legira transport from the Baltham Trust Company to the secluded house on Long Island. Legira had admitted that the box contained money. Whatever the amount might be, it was sufficient for Legira to pass over an additional thousand dollars for services which Desmond might willingly have performed without extra payment.

DESPITE his innocuous appearance, Frank Desmond was a schemer of parts. Now, he was reviewing the past events of his career with Alvarez Legira and his thoughts were directed particularly to the episodes of last night.

Three men had been murdered. They were dead, at the hands of a person unknown. One of the murdered men was John Hendrix, wealthy and influential financier. Already connection had been made between Hendrix and affairs in South America. Desmond smiled maliciously. He fancied that Alvarez Legira might be very closely connected with the dead financier.

Desmond had met Legira not far from the home of John Hendrix. The man from Santander had been in a great hurry to get to the Baltham Trust Company. He had also shown great anxiety to be away from New York, secluded on Long Island, waiting there for a sure way to leave the country unobserved.

Why had Legira placed a substitute in his own position?

Desmond had helped him to get Perry Wallace for the job. Legira had given no reason for the substitution. Smiling, Desmond pictured the entire chain of events as he imagined they should be fitted together.

Alvarez Legira feared certain enemies. Of that, Desmond was sure. But Desmond also saw a shrewd, clever scheme on the part of the South American. With Perry Wallace planted at his residence, Legira had been free to visit the home of John Hendrix — to slay — and to thus assure the success of a shady swindle which had enabled him to obtain a large fund of money at the Baltham Trust Company.

Frank Desmond continued to smile. He saw Legira as a hunted criminal — a man about to get away unscathed, leaving others to bear the brunt.

So Wallace and Lopez were to flee? Of course! That was an effective part of Legira’s plan, as Desmond saw it. Sleuths would trail the false Legira. The real man would be far away before the imposture was detected.

Desmond laughed harshly.

Well, Legira had made one mistake. He had thought Frank Desmond a fool who would obey orders blindly for a few thousand dollars! Since that was the game, Legira would learn differently.

Nine o’clock tonight — then Legira would be on his way. Nine hours to go — and in that time, Desmond, blind and obedient, would be responsible for Legira’s successful escape.

Two could play at a game like this, thought Desmond. At last he understood what was behind Legira’s complicated plotting. Desmond’s mental process became involved; but through it all, one picture dominated. That was the recollection of the money which Legira now had in his possession.

It must be great wealth to justify the desperate game. Of that wealth, Desmond desired a generous portion. How was he to get it?

Demand more money from Legira?

That could be done; yet it would probably meet with refusal. Desmond could make threats. They would amount to naught.

To declare that he would tip off the police to Legira’s whereabouts was the only threat that Desmond could make. Legira would laugh at such a statement. Police intervention would kill Desmond’s chance for a share of the money.

While he hesitated and pondered, Desmond decided that the first step was to ignore Perry Wallace and Lopez. Something might be gained by leaving them where they were. As matters now stood, they would remain at Legira’s residence until told what to do.

Desmond had satisfied himself with a reason why Legira wanted the pair to leave. They were to divert suspicion while Legira took to flight. Yet why — this came to Desmond on second thought — should Legira want them to leave so promptly?

Midnight, tomorrow — that time would come soon enough. In considering this question, Desmond came to the prompt conclusion that Legira’s apprehension of hidden enemies was well-founded.

YES, that was it. Legira did not fear the law alone. Others were already on his trail. Who were they?

South Americans, without a doubt.

Desmond picked up the newspaper and again read the vital paragraphs. The name of Rodriguez Zelva stood out.

Desmond smiled. Alone, he could not hope to cope with Alvarez Legira. Backed by others, who knew the man’s deceptive ways, the situation would be different.

Frank Desmond was prompt to act. He picked up the telephone directory and looked for the name of Zelva. He found it promptly. The man had a private telephone at the Goliath Hotel.

Desmond called the number. A deep, accented voice answered. Desmond thought quickly as he phrased his conversation.

“Mr. Zelva?” he questioned.

“Yes,” came the reply.

“I have business that I should like to discuss with you,” said Desmond, calmly. “This business concerns South American affairs. I need information.”

“Can you state its nature?”

“Not over the telephone.”

“Your name, please?”

“Desmond.”

There was a pause. The name meant nothing to Zelva. Desmond realized that. He added other words of explanation.

“My business, Mr. Zelva,” he declared in a cautious tone, “concerns an important matter in the country of Santander. Not knowing much about that country, I felt that I would do well to talk with some one who knew South American affairs. It is very urgent, Mr. Zelva.”

A short wait. Then Zelva replied in smooth, friendly tones.

“No one knows a great deal about Santander,” were his words. “I am afraid I cannot give you much information. However, Mr. Desmond, I should be glad to grant you an interview. It happens that I am not busy at present. If you wish, you may come here now.”

“Fifteen minutes,” rejoined Desmond promptly.

“Very good,” said Zelva.

Desmond hung up the phone and indulged in a satisfied grin. He fancied that this meeting with Rodriguez Zelva would bring unusual results.

Picking his hat from the rack, Desmond left the office. Visions of wealth danced before his eyes as he strode along. Desmond felt that he had done the unexpected.

The fact that he was willing to play the traitor meant nothing to Frank Desmond.