The Road Of Crime

CHAPTER XVII MISGAINED MILLIONS

HARWIN DOWSER’S office was located in a building near the Southwark courthouse. As Graham Wellerton and his companions climbed the stairs to the lawyer’s headquarters, the reformed crook felt more than ever that he was about to encounter the unexpected.

Of all the men whom he had met in Southwark, Dowser had impressed Graham as the most sanguine. The lawyer, a political figure in this county, possessed unusual qualifications. Where Ezra Talboy had accumulated wealth by usurious practices, where Ralph Delkin had gained much by straightforward business dealings, Harwin Dowser had reached a state of importance by practically monopolizing legal affairs in this vicinity.

The adviser of every person of prominence, a man whose influence had direct effect even upon old Justice Schuble’s decisions, Dowser was one whose friendship could be powerful, and whose enmity could be a tremendous obstacle. Even now, it seemed as though Sheriff Taussig was no more than Dowser’s errand boy.

In fact, the sheriff’s presence and behavior were most unusual. If the man had come to arrest Graham, why had he not done so? If nothing but a private conference between Graham and Dowser was the matter at stake, why had the sheriff been deputed as the lawyer’s messenger?

Considering these questions, Graham entered the office and found himself face to face with Harwin Dowser. The elderly lawyer, sharp-featured and keen-eyed, arose to receive the young man with an air of gravity. Solemn as a British barrister, Dowser waved Graham and the other visitors to chairs.

“Graham Wellerton,” announced the attorney, “you are the nephew of Ezra Talboy, deceased. As legal representative for your late uncle, I have important matters to discuss with you. The presence of these other witnesses is not material. My words will be brief, and there is no reason why others should not hear them.”

GRAHAM sensed at once that Ezra Talboy, before he died, must have held a conference with Harwin Dowser. He realized that the lawyer was about to make a revelation. The presence of the sheriff became ominous.

If Dowser intended to brand Graham Wellerton as a crook, Ellis Taussig, the bluff representative of the county law, would lose no time in leaping to action.

“Ezra Talboy,” announced Dowser, “was a peculiar man. I state that as a simple fact. His will, which he made many years ago, was a most unusual document, in that it made no provisions for any person who bore a relationship to Ezra Talboy, nor did it include any philanthropic clauses.”

Graham Wellerton smiled sourly. This reference gave a plain analysis of his uncle’s mean and avaricious tendencies. Graham could picture Ezra Talboy, alive in the past, worrying over the disposal of his ill-gotten gains.

“Before his death,” continued Dowser, “Ezra Talboy called for me. At his request, I brought his will. At his order, I destroyed the document. In its place, I prepared a new and simple will which states all of Ezra Talboy’s final bequeathment in a single clause.

“Ezra Talboy’s entire estate, freed from any other provisions, is left to his nephew, Graham Wellerton. Young man” — Dowser extended his hand — “I congratulate you as the recipient of a fortune which may be conservatively estimated at ten million dollars!”

Graham Wellerton was staggered. This unexpected turn came to him with the suddenness of a blow. He stared at the other men in the room, observed the solemnity of their faces, and wondered if he were in a trance. Then, as his senses became composed, a horrible doubt swept over him.

Ten million dollars.

How had Ezra Talboy accumulated that sum? There was but one answer. The old skinflint had wrenched his wealth from suffering men. Among those millions was Graham Wellerton’s own patrimony — money that should have come to him from his father — but with it were other sums that rightfully belonged to other persons. Forgotten men, who could never now be located, were the real owners of those usurped millions!

Graham looked toward Ralph Delkin. He caught a cold expression upon the manufacturer’s face. He knew what Delkin was thinking. Had Ezra Talboy had his way, Delkin’s factory would be part of those ill-gotten assets. Graham realized that in his own pocket he had money that he owed to Delkin. He recalled the discussion at Delkin’s home, when he, Graham Wellerton, had announced his intention of going straight.

Would it be straight to take these millions? No. He had branded his own uncle as a crook worse than himself. A man who took money gained by evil measures was lower than a thief. As Graham looked at Ralph Delkin, he thought of Eunice.

What would she think of this turn in Graham’s fortunes? Graham knew. He realized that if he profited by his uncle’s death, the girl would at last have cause to regard him with contempt.

Then came a flare of hatred — a survival of the past. Graham understood why his uncle had left him this money. It was not through gratitude for Graham’s attempt to save his life. It was because Ezra Talboy had gained fiendish delight in the fact that he had found his nephew to be a crook.

With Ezra Talboy, possession of wealth had been an outlet for evil. Dying, the old man had gained a wicked joy to know that he could place his entire fortunes in the hands of a nephew whom he considered as evil as himself.

That burning thought, together with Graham’s regard for Eunice Delkin, caused the young man to make an astounding decision.

“Ten million dollars,” pondered Graham aloud. “A great deal of money, gentlemen. The amount, however, is quite immaterial. My uncle had the privilege of leaving his money to me. I, in turn, have the privilege of refusing it. Since he bequeathed it without proviso, I shall reject it in the same spirit.”

GASPS of amazement came from the other men. Even Ralph Delkin seemed astonished. Graham Wellerton smiled wearily and glanced at his watch as he turned to Sheriff Taussig.

“I thank you for your trouble, sheriff,” he said. “Unfortunately, you have caused me to miss my train. That involves the necessity of my remaining in Southwark a few hours longer.”

“One moment, Wellerton,” insisted Harwin Dowser sharply, as Graham was turning toward the door. “Are you serious about this matter?”

“Why should I be otherwise?” retorted Graham.

“Because,” declared Dowser, “this plan — if you go through with it — will cause many complications. As administrator of the estate, I shall have many problems with which to deal.”

“You can’t force the money on me, can you?”

“I cannot do anything else with it.”

“How does that concern me?”

“In various ways,” decided Dowser. “For instance — are you married?”

The abruptness of the question startled Graham. He was on the point of giving an affirmative reply; then, as Dowser eyed him keenly, he took an evasive course.

“Suppose I did happen to be married,” he said thoughtfully. “Would my wife have the right to a share in my estate?”

“She would have cause for objection,” stated Dowser, “if you refused the bequest. Moreover, if the money should be held in trust, or administered in your behalf, she would be entitled to a share, at least, in the event of your death.”

“Hm-m-m,” responded Wellerton. “Marriage is an odd thing, isn’t it? I’ve often considered matrimony. It’s a problem. You see, gentlemen” — he paused to look at Delkin and Taussig — “the thought of possessing great wealth annoys me. I had intended to tramp around a bit — perhaps as a vagrant.”

Graham smiled as he made this subtle reference to his homecoming in the town of Southwark.

“However,” added Graham, “the problem of marriage brings me to a dilemma. What would you do” — Graham was looking directly at Delkin as he spoke — “if you were in my circumstances?”

THE question was an excellent one, in consideration of the facts which Delkin knew about Graham, as told today. Indeed, Graham’s mention of Carma had placed Delkin in full knowledge of the most important fact. Graham waited patiently for the manufacturer’s answer. It came.

“I should accept the legacy,” announced Delkin.

Sheriff Taussig muttered an agreement.

It was Delkin’s decision alone that decided Graham. The manufacturer would tell the entire story to his daughter, Graham felt sure. Eunice would know how Graham had deliberately refused to accept tainted millions; then had changed his decision due to circumstances which involved the woman who had forced him into crime. Moreover, Delkin would mention that Graham had left the question up to him.

Graham Wellerton turned to Harwin Dowser and stared squarely into the old lawyer’s shrewd face. Graham’s mind was thinking quickly. The young man realized that, with wealth, he could do good to balance the evil committed by his uncle.

“I accept,” decided Graham.

“Good,” returned Dowser, smiling.

Graham Wellerton sat down and lighted a cigarette. He realized that great work lay ahead. Simultaneously, he could undo Ezra Talboy’s evil work by turning misgained millions into funds spent for philanthropic purposes.

With the same joy, Graham knew that be could frustrate Carma’s claims for wealth. The woman did not know he was in Southwark. By the time she had located him — if that time should ever come — the wealth could be diminished by Graham’s own efforts.

THUS did Graham Wellerton begin his new career. Instead of becoming a wanderer, he had gained tremendous wealth. Only two persons of the past could block him. One, Wolf Daggert, was a fugitive; the other, Carma Urstead, did not know what had become of Graham Wellerton.

There were two others who knew the truth regarding Graham Wellerton. The young man thought of them as he sat alone with Harwin Dowser. Those two were Ralph Delkin and his daughter Eunice. They would never reveal what he had told them, Graham felt sure.

Strange that Graham Wellerton forgot one other! Oddly, his mind failed to consider The Shadow. Dazed by thoughts of wealth, Graham’s brain no longer dwelt upon the unseen stranger who had saved his life the night that Ezra Talboy had been mortally wounded.

Potentially, Graham Wellerton was a crook with millions at his disposal. Although he planned to use his wealth for good, it might reasonably be judged that he would spend the hoarded coin for evil — by any who knew his past.

The Shadow knew Graham Wellerton’s past. The master of darkness had seen the young man’s present, here in Southwark. The Shadow, bound on other errands, had left this vicinity, but his agent, Harry Vincent, still remained, a temporary resident in the town.

An amazing future lay ahead of Graham Wellerton — a career now on the balance point, ready to swing toward evil or good as Graham himself might decide. That fact would not escape the watchfulness of The Shadow!

For The Shadow, master of justice, was one who remained ever vigilant. His hand was one that aided those who strove for right; his same hand was one that struck down all who favored evil.

Well would it be for Graham Wellerton if he persisted in his determination to devote another’s misgained millions to affairs of restitution. Woe to him should he weaken in his mission.

The Shadow knew the past; The Shadow would know the future!

The Shadow always knows!