The Garaucan Swindle

CHAPTER VI. BANKERS MEET

EVENING. A line of cars were drawn up in front of an old but pretentious mansion that stood like a landmark of Nineteenth Century New York. This residence, located near Seventy-second Street, was the home of Tobias Hildreth, President of the Founders Trust Company.

Guests were in the spacious living room. Most of them were of the younger set — friends of Claire Hildreth, the banker’s niece. A group of older persons — all men — was stationed near the wide door to the library. Here Tobias Hildreth was talking with men of prominence.

The discussion concerned Garaucan bonds. The afternoon had brought a new and sensational development. That had been the announcement, by Dunwood Marrick, that he had been a heavy purchaser of the South American issue. Hildreth’s guests were anxious to learn his opinions of Marrick’s statement.

Half severe, half smiling, Hildreth was brushing off his questioners. Portly, with a fat, broad face and partly-bald head, Hildreth seemed a man of conservative nature. His statements also indicated his character.

“One cannot count strongly on what Marrick says,” asserted Hildreth. “The man is an upstart. His methods of investment are radical. This may be one of his sensational measures.”

“But he was caught with the bad bonds,” insisted a guest. “He showed them to newspaper reporters. His announcement is unquestionably a correct one.”

“Let me discuss the matter later,” smiled Hildreth. “I expect another guest — one who is anxious to gain my exact opinion.”

“A banker?”

“A former banker. I refer to our new police commissioner, Wainwright Barth.”

A buzz of surprise swept through the group. This statement promised interesting developments. Tobias Hildreth turned the subject and others followed his lead. Yet an eager tenseness came upon the group.

NEAR the front of the living room, a girl was speaking to a uniformed butler. This girl was Claire Hildreth. She was an attractive blonde, well-featured and of likable appearance; but her face showed definite annoyance.

“Did you call Mr. Wilking, Lowdy?” Claire was questioning. “Again, as I told you?”

“Yes, Miss Hildreth,” replied the menial. “There was no answer.”

“You are sure you called the right number? Margate 8-2943?”

“That was the number I called, ma’am.”

“Call again in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Another girl approached and smiled as Claire turned in her direction.

“Wally still among the missing?” questioned the second girl.

“Yes.” Claire pursed her lips and frowned. “It’s just like him — always undependable.”

“The case with most fiances.”

“I guess you are right. Ever since our engagement, Wally has been less thoughtful about appointments. Of course, his conduct is somewhat excusable.”

“Why?”

“Because Uncle Tobias does not like him. He says Wally is a spendthrift, a ne’er-do-well.”

“Is he right?”

“I am afraid so. Of course Wally is always promising to settle down; but Uncle says that promises are merely pretences. Really, I am almost ready to call quits with Wally—”

Claire broke off suddenly. A new guest had arrived. A young man, handsome but lethargic, had strolled into the living room. Perfectly attired in evening clothes, a long, ornate cigarette holder between his lips, he appeared as a typical man-about-town. It was Wally Wilking, Claire’s fiance.

“Well, Wally,” questioned Claire, as she approached her fiance. “What’s to-night’s excuse?”

“Business, my dear,” responded Wally, in an affable tone. “Sorry to be late, but I had a very important appointment. Very.”

“Business,” echoed Claire, scornfully. “I wish you had some business, Wally. Drawing money from your trust fund seems to be all you worry about. It makes Uncle very indignant.”

“Poor old Uncle Toby,” sneered Wally. “Well, he’s paid for managing trust funds. Reminds me — I want to speak to him. I’ll be back with you a little later, Claire, after I’ve broken in on that conclave there by the library door. Say — look who’s here.”

“Where?” questioned Claire.

“Coming in the door,” answered Wally. “The tall hombre with the frozen face and the one with his head stuck forward like the prow of a ship.”

“One is Lamont Cranston,” stated Claire. “He’s a millionaire globe-trotter — a very remarkable man. The other must be Wainwright Barth, the new police commissioner.”

“Jolly, eh?” laughed Wally, as he watched the two arrivals meet Tobias Hildreth. “Well, well. I’ll have to make their acquaintance. See you after a bit, Claire.”

Strolling over, Wally Wilking joined the group by the library door. He stood in the offing, applying a new cigarette to his holder and listened in to the conversation that was beginning. Minutes drifted by; all the while, Wally made no effort to speak to Tobias Hildreth.

THE head of the Founders Trust was discussing Dunwood Marrick. That appeared to be of considerable interest to Wally Wilking. Though apparently indolent, the young society man did not miss a single word.

“Some one backed the Garaucan bond swindle,” asserted Hildreth. “That some one put up a definite sum — say ten millions — and received a bond issue valued at least twice the amount. Then came the sale. Big blocks to big buyers. Double profits to the crooked backer.

“When Birafel scampered from Garauca, some began to unload. The sudden flurry of bonds started Weston on the war-path. Most of the original buyers are caught — as Marrick is caught. However, he was in very deeply — so deeply, in fact, that he could not afford to leave the bonds in the trust funds where he planted them.”

“So he took the loss himself,” put in a member of the group. “That was a commendable action.”

“Commendable!” jeered Hildreth. “He did it to save his scalp. He was afraid to have people find out that he held two millions of those bad bonds.”

“Precisely,” asserted Commissioner Barth, peering wisely through his pince-nez. “I see your point, Mr. Hildreth. There is every reason to believe that the financier who backed the crooked bond issue would have a large amount still in his possession.”

“Certainly,” assured Hildreth. “Time was too short for a complete clean-up. Our friend Marrick” — he laughed scornfully — “is noted for his wild-cat transactions. He did not care to have it rumored that he held large blocks of those bonds. People might well have supposed that he himself backed the crooked enterprise.”

“I see,” nodded a listener. “So he cleared himself of such suspicion by announcing that he had the bonds. It was a wise move, but an expensive one.”

“Marrick,” added Hildreth, emphatically, “preferred to be branded as a dupe rather than as a swindler.”

There was a brief pause. Wally Wilking sensed a tenseness as he lighted another cigarette. Several men seemed on the point of asking a question. All thought better of it. The question, however, came— voiced by the one man most fitted to ask it: Wainwright Barth.

“Tell me, Mr. Hildreth,” demanded the new commissioner, “would you class Dunwood Marrick as the type of banker who would become a dupe?”

Nods. Wise exchange of glances. Every one looked at Hildreth. The conservative banker seemed loath to reply. However, Barth was waiting for an answer.

“I should class Marrick,” said Hildreth, slowly, “as anything but a dupe. I must admit that I was amazed by his announcement that he was a heavy purchaser of Garaucan bonds.”

“The issue seemed sound,” said some one.

“Too sound for Marrick,” commented Hildreth. “Understand, gentlemen, the teeth of this swindle lay in the solid appearance of the Garaucan bonds. Conservative investors might well have been attracted by the issue. I feel sure that many reliable bankers bought reasonable amounts of Garaucan bonds.

“To speculators, however, such an issue would not have been attractive. Marrick is as great a speculator as the banking laws permit. The only answer that I can give is that he must have tried to stabilize his speculations by purchases of solid securities. That may be the reason for his acquisition of the Garaucan bonds.”

Another pause. The tenseness still existed. This time, Commissioner Barth put a statement — not a question.

“You are very fair to Marrick,” said Barth to Hildreth. “You are giving him the benefit of a definite doubt. I, however, am no longer a banker. I am police commissioner. It is my duty to follow up suspicions.

“I hold a suspicion, so far as Dunwood Marrick is concerned. Your statements, Mr. Hildreth, confirm my suspicion. Gentlemen, what I have to say is in confidence. To me, Marrick’s action looks like a bold gesture to cover up the truth.

“I hold to the belief that Marrick could be the man behind the fraudulent bond issue. He could have placed two millions into the trust funds under his personal jurisdiction, taking out bona fide securities in their place.

“Two millions of easy profit. Investments that he could have explained later, because they looked good at the time he made them. But Weston’s investigation — the suicide of Sigby Rund — Weston’s departure for Garauca— all those facts were damaging.

“Presuming that Marrick backed the swindle, he has made the best stroke possible to cover up his work. He is pretending to take a loss of two millions — in unselfish fashion — and all the while he is merely sacrificing bonds that cost him nothing!”

Awed silence followed Barth’s denunciation. Even Tobias Hildreth, the conservative who disliked Marrick as a radical, seemed too strained to speak. Barth’s statement bore all the ear-marks of a direct accusation against Dunwood Marrick.

THE new commissioner realized that he had been precipitous. As the silence continued, he decided to temper his remarks. He turned to Hildreth as a beginning.

“You must understand,” declared Barth, “that what I have said was merely a presentation of possibilities. My remarks were inspired by your own. You seemed to lean backward in your effort to be fair to Marrick. So I went to the opposite extreme.

“I wanted to show that Marrick’s action to-day could be other than an unselfish effort to make amends for a mistake and to save an honest reputation. It would be the work of a clever schemer, choosing a shrewd way in which to bury a skeleton of the past. I do not intend to accuse Dunwood Marrick. I do intend to watch him.”

The tenseness was relieved. The group began to buzz. Hildreth, nodding his agreement with Barth’s statement, put a fair and definite statement to the commissioner.

“You are wise to watch Marrick,” he declared, “because his methods are radical. He is a man who has sustained losses — almost always through speculative enterprises — but he has a way of pyramiding to make good what he has lost.”

“Ah! You think, then, that if he has really lost two millions he will produce some scheme to recoup that sum?”

“I know that he will do so. If he sits back, contented, your suspicions will be justified. But if he rallies, you will know that he is making good a misfortune.”

“An excellent point, Mr. Hildreth. One that I shall remember. Of course, there is one factor that you have seemed to ignore.”

“What is that?”

“If Marrick is crafty, he will try to recoup simply to make it look as though his loss was genuine.”

“I believe you are right.” Hildreth nodded solemnly. “That did not occur to me, commissioner. Well, then, I must confess myself unable to advise you.”

“You have advised me enough,” smiled Barth, in crafty fashion. “Your remarks brought out my own opinions. Though you seemed unwilling, you were forced to agree that I might be right regarding Marrick. The man will bear watching.”

“I agree heartily on that point.”

Conversation lulled. Wally Wilking stepped forward and spoke to Tobias Hildreth. The banker frowned.

“To see me regarding money?” he questioned. “I have told you, Wilking, that you are over-spending. You have not reduced the amounts you borrowed.”

Wilking mumbled a few words more; Hildreth still frowned, but nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “If you really think you will be able to manage better, I shall talk to you.”

“To-night?”

“Well — for a short while. A little later.”

“Suppose I go in your study and wait there?”

“Very well.”

Hildreth seemed loath with his “very well,” but he was anxious to get rid of Wally for the present. The young man strolled off through the library, lighting another cigarette. Among the guests, one man had keenly noted his speech with Hildreth. This observer was Lamont Cranston.

A few minutes later, the tall visitor drifted toward the hall. There he noted a passage toward the rear of the house. In strange, uncanny fashion, he headed in that direction. Not one of half a dozen persons saw him blend with the darkness of the passage.

LAMONT CRANSTON became a gliding figure. Though still in evening attire, he was virtually The Shadow in appearance and action. He came to an obscure door. He turned the knob. The barrier opened imperceptibly. The burning eyes of The Shadow peered through a narrow slit, into Tobias Hildreth’s study.

There was a closed door at the front of the room. This led into the library. The far wall had windows with closed iron shutters. The rear wall showed the heavy door of a small vault. In the center of the room was a massive desk. It was beside this that Wally Wilking stood.

The young man had laid aside his cigarette holder. Smoothly, yet swiftly, he was going through the contents of a desk drawer. The Shadow watched him complete an examination of papers. Wilking began upon a second drawer. Suddenly, he slid papers out of sight, closed the drawer with his knee and picked up cigarette holder. He was lighting a cigarette when the door from the library opened.

It was Claire Hildreth. The girl seemed angry and reproving. Wally protested that he had business with her uncle; that Tobias Hildreth was coming here to see him. At last, he yielded to the girl’s persuasion.

They prepared to go back through the library.

The Shadow’s door had closed. When Wally Wilking and Claire Hildreth appeared in the living room, Lamont Cranston was strolling in from the hall. He saw Wally stop to speak to Hildreth. He caught the young man’s words.

“Sorry, sir,” said Wally. “I can’t see you to-night, on account of Claire. I’ll drop in at the bank to-morrow afternoon.”

“Can’t see me!” snorted Hildreth, when Wally had walked away with Claire. “Humph! I didn’t want to see him. He wanted to see me. These young upstarts, with their snippy ways!”

Shortly afterward, Lamont Cranston and Wainwright Barth departed from Tobias Hildreth’s. They were going to the exclusive Cobalt Club, where both were members. As they rode along in Cranston’s limousine, the new commissioner talked effusively.

He was pleased with Hildreth’s opinions. He felt that he had learned something to-night. As he chatted, he expressed the belief that he would soon get at the root of the swindling enterprise which had marked the short history of the Garaucan bonds.

Lamont Cranston made no comment. His lips wore a thin, knowing smile. For he — as The Shadow — was the one who had made a real discovery; not through discourse, but through observation.

The Shadow had spotted Wally Wilking. He had seen purpose in the society man’s indolence. He had watched Wally Wilking at work. The Shadow — not Wainwright Barth — was the one who had gained a trail.