The Unseen Killer

CHAPTER II. FROM THE CONFERENCE

A GROUP of men was gathered about a long conference table. Situated in an office high in a Manhattan skyscraper, they commanded a complete view of the Times Square district. Dusk had settled over the metropolis. Blinking signs flashed their intermittent glow into the ruddy sky above the city. But the sight meant nothing to these men. They were concerned with the misfortunes of the Centralized Power Corporation.

At one end of the long table was a solemn-faced, gray-haired man. Benign of countenance, he held an attitude of friendship. Glumness, however, was imprinted upon his features. He could not shake off the pall of gloom that had captured him. This was Findlay Warlock, president of the corporation.

Stockholders — represented by men seated on both sides of the table — had once looked to Warlock as master of their fortunes. But that had been before the advent of disaster. Warlock, no longer a leader, had been supplanted by the man who now sat at the other end of the conference table. This was Marryat Darring, recently appointed as executive secretary.

In contrast to Warlock, Darring was a man of rugged vigor. Black-haired, keen-eyed, dynamic in every action, the executive secretary was tracing the events that had led to the crash of Centralized Power.

Stockholders listened while he spoke; their nods showed their unanimous approval of Darring’s findings.

“Centralized Power,” the black-haired man was saying, “was an ill-advised project. Its very inception predicted its ultimate failure. The company planned the building of a huge dam in a district where there was no concentration of population.

“Mr. Warlock, as president, advised the step in the belief that the region would expand once the power project had been completed. We all agree that Mr. Warlock is a man of vision. In this instance, however, he was a man of too much vision.

“He looked ahead to the establishment of industries; to the growth of cities — all produced by the magic of power development. Instead of following the old rule of producing a supply to fill a demand, he adopted the policy of believing that a demand would arise as a result of the supply.”

Darring paused; he looked about at the approving nods which continued. Even Warlock had joined in the approbation. The president was admitting the truth of the statements which the executive secretary had made.

“Despite those mistakes,” resumed Darring, in a modulated tone, “Centralized Power might have achieved its organizer’s hopes. It is not my province, gentlemen, to make too severe a criticism. I say that the project was ill-advised. I do not state, however, that it was impossible of attainment, so far as the basic idea was concerned.

“The real mistake came when Mr. Warlock, convinced that his dreams would become realities, advised the purchase of land that was offered at outrageous prices. He also bought out the options and rights of smaller concerns that had gained claims upon that territory.

“Then, as the colossal blunder, he permitted the award of contracts that were set at war-time figures. In brief, he allowed the expenditure of several million dollars that could very well have been saved. Am I correct, Mr. Warlock?”

“You are,” responded the gray-haired president, in a wheezy voice. “I must state, however, that the estimates proved that these extravagances would be repaid eventually—”

BURSTS of indignation came from stockholders. Warlock slumped pitifully in his chair. Accusing voices sounded in his ears. It was Darring who silenced them with a powerful rap upon the end of the table.

“One moment, gentlemen!” roared Darring. “This is no time for spitefulness. Accept Mr. Warlock’s statement at its true value. He admits extravagances, but” — Darring’s tone eased as his eyes moved about the silenced group — “he also states a fact when he declares that the heavy expenditures would have been absorbed by the completion of the project.

“In a nut-shell, gentlemen, Mr. Warlock is free from condemnation. His were errors of omission, not of commission. He believed — he still believes — that his expenditures would have been justified. We can not take issue on that point.”

Warlock smiled gratefully as he heard these statements. Antagonism faded as the stockholders were swung by Darring’s persuasion. Though their faces remained glum, they gradually began to coincide with Darring’s assertions.

“The real failure of Centralized Power,” resumed the executive secretary, “lies in the matter of riparian rights. As I said a moment ago, Mr. Warlock’s error was one of omission. He neglected to obtain full information on a subject that was vital to the success of Centralized Power.

“A few months ago, certain directors of this company became alarmed by the high expenditures that Mr. Warlock had instituted. They urged my appointment to the position of executive secretary. I went into all matters in detail I must say, gentlemen, that Mr. Warlock spared no effort to aid me in my investigation, even though it was a reflection upon his handling of the company management.”

Warlock nodded approvingly. Stockholders, toned down by Darring, looked sympathetically toward the president. They recalled that Warlock, himself, was a heavy stockholder in the company. He, too, was losing a fortune.

“Thanks to Mr. Warlock’s cooperation,” declared Darring, “I was able to make a thorough study of matters as they stood. Aided by my experience as receiver for certain defunct power companies, I went deeply into the entire affair. In fact, I started from the beginning. I wanted to learn about the water supply that the great Centralized dam was to hold.

“Every one else — Mr. Warlock included — had taken the riparian rights for granted. I took nothing for granted. Almost at the start of my survey, I uncovered the astounding fact that all the streams from which Centralized Power expected to store up water were controlled by other interests.

“There we had it. A huge dam, half built. Contracts calling for equipment. New property options to be exercised. All for a project that was doomed to failure because the one needed element, water, was not obtainable. There was but one course to take. Empowered as executive secretary, I suspended further construction of the dam.

“Since then, I have been actively engaged in my investigation. I find that we are confronted by an absolute dilemma. We must either abandon our entire enterprise, calling it a complete loss, or we must buy out all the companies that hold riparian rights. That would mean a cost that could never be absorbed.”

THE truth of Darring’s statements seemed obvious. Haggard-faced, the stockholders looked from one to another and shook their heads.

There was only one who seemed unperturbed by the situation. This was a tall, silent personage who was seated midway at the table. Turning toward Darring, he spoke.

“Let me introduce myself,” he said, in a quiet tone. “My name is Lamont Cranston. I have but recently returned from abroad, to find that my broker had purchased shares of Centralized Power securities.

Though my holdings are not proportionately large, I am as interested as any one present regarding the ultimate fate of this corporation. What do you propose, Mr. Darring, as the best solution?”

Darring faced the speaker. He observed a keen, chiseled countenance that was almost masklike in appearance. An aquiline nose, steady, burning eyes— these were the predominating features of Lamont Cranston’s visage. Marryat Darring recognized that he was dealing with a person of importance. He spoke frankly.

“There is no exact solution,” admitted the executive secretary. “But of the two courses that I have mentioned, I should suggest the first. A petition for bankruptcy would be our method to abandon the enterprise.”

“No! No!” exclaimed Warlock, coming to his feet. “We must raise more money, gentlemen! Enough to buy out the other interests—”

“And to burden ourselves,” put in Darring, “with expenditures that would certainly result in even greater loss.”

Warlock subsided. Cranston again took up the matter with Darring.

“The newspaper reports,” stated Cranston, “mention the names of three promoters who profited heavily through the formation of the Centralized Power Corporation. Suppose, Mr. Darring, you give us a statement of their present status.”

“I shall,” responded Darring. “The three men in question are Nathaniel Hildon, Peters Amboy and Wallace Norgan. They are the ones who sold property to Mr. Warlock. They also turned over the stock of the subsidiary companies that Centralized Power absorbed. They had options on many contracts.

“Unquestionably, those three have profited heavily through Centralized Power. By suspending operations, I have stopped their gain. If we go into bankruptcy, our remaining funds will be required to make them further payments.

“If we continue, we will require more money to meet the debts that Hildon, Amboy and Norgan have saddled on us. Such payments will have to be made before we can begin to buy out the companies that hold riparian rights. All that means further loss.”

As Darring paused, Warlock arose. The gray-haired president was trembling with suppressed anger. His wrath, however, was not directed toward Darring. Warlock’s fury had been fanned by the mention of the three promoters.

“They were swindlers!” cried Warlock. “The three of them. Hildon, Amboy and Norgan! Those parasites have fattened themselves with the funds that we have invested in Centralized Power!”

“But you met their demands,” reminded Darring.

“I met them in good faith,” declared Warlock. “Despite their exorbitant terms, I believed that we could make our project pay. It is this question of riparian rights that has ruined us; and I am convinced that those scoundrels are in back of it. Another scheme to bleed us!”

“Yet you advise our continuance?” questioned Darring.

“Only if we can first bring those rogues to justice,” returned Warlock. “Make them disgorge their ill-gotten millions. Regain the funds that are rightfully our own—”

“ONE moment,” interposed Darring, with a wave that curbed Warlock. Then, to the stockholders:

“Gentlemen, if we could prove these accusations against Hildon, Amboy and Norgan, our case might be different. But it is impossible to show actual conspiracy on their part.

“I have visited them, with Mr. Warlock. All have denied any knowledge in this matter of riparian rights. All of their sales and contracts were legal. None of them involved the matter of water supply. Moreover, they take the stand that if the president of Centralized Power knew nothing about the situation that existed, why should they be expected to have such knowledge?

“I argued with them from another angle. That of exorbitant charges on property, options and contracts. There, again, I was balked by the previous actions of our president. Hildon — Amboy — Norgan — all three pointed out that Mr. Warlock had invested in turbine motors that had proven worthless. Hence his payments to them — for actual property and materials delivered — were not out of keeping with his system of management.

“No, gentlemen, the most that I can hope to do is to induce Hildon, Amboy and Norgan to waive certain claims which they still hold upon our company. That, at least, would benefit the stockholders. But I can not accomplish such a result while Mr. Warlock insists upon denouncing them as scoundrels.”

A momentary silence. Then a stockholder made a motion that Marryat Darring be empowered to treat with the three promoters on the matter of waiving the existing claims. The motion was seconded and carried. Then came a motion for adjournment. It passed; the meeting ended. Warlock approached Darring.

“You were right,” said Warlock to the secretary. “I have been tactless in my dealing with those three. You know as well as I that they are thieves; but you have sense enough not to mention it.”

“Exactly!” replied Darring, with a smile.

“But their reference to Lessep was uncalled for,” resumed Warlock. “I made an appropriation for his turbines, I admit. But the money was for experimental purposes. Had the turbines proven practical—”

“Unfortunately,” interrupted Darring, “Professor Lessep has a bad record so far as his inventions are concerned. He, more than the promoters, can be said to have swindled you. I saw those turbines, Warlock. They were hopeless. You have made a great mistake, Warlock, in giving credit to the ideas of an eccentric inventor like Melrose Lessep.”

“You are wrong, Darring. Gentlemen” — Warlock turned to the departing stockholders — “I call you to witness! Would it restore some of your faith in me if I proved that Professor Lessep is a capable inventor?”

“Yes,” came a reluctant response.

“Very well,” announced Warlock. “To-night, at his laboratory, Professor Lessep intends to perform an experiment in the devisualization of solids. I intend to witness it. I feel that Mr. Darring and others should be present.”

“It does not concern the corporation,” objected Darring. “I told you that long ago, Warlock, when you first mentioned this new invention of Lessep’s. Devisualization of solids has nothing to do with turbines.”

“But Lessep’s success to-night can justify my belief in his inventive genius. It will prove that I was not unreasonable in spending money on his turbines.”

“What do you think, gentlemen?”

Darring’s question brought nods from the stockholders. They seemed to agree that Warlock needed vindication. Darring turned to the president.

“In response to your request,” he said, “I shall attend to-night’s experiment. I would suggest, also, that two of the stockholders be present in addition to myself. Two — or more—”

One man volunteered. The others, however, pleaded previous engagements. It was then that Lamont Cranston stepped forward, just as Findlay Warlock was making another remark.

“The police commissioner will be there,” Warlock was saying. “I have invited him in the belief that Lessep’s experiment may be of use in crime solution. If any one else—”

“I shall be present,” came Cranston’s quiet interruption.

The impromptu meeting adjourned. Stockholders went their separate ways. Warlock and Darring departed together, intending to have dinner; then to go to Lessep’s. They invited Cranston; but he declined, stating that he would meet them at the laboratory.

ON the street, Lamont Cranston hailed a taxi. He ordered the driver to take him to the exclusive Cobalt Club. As the cab rolled along, Cranston leaned back in the cushions of the rear seat and laughed softly through immobile lips.

A strange whisper, that repressed mirth! Yet it told a story of its own. It revealed the true identity of this personage who wore the masklike countenance of Lamont Cranston; it marked a secret purpose— a design of The Shadow!

For this was not the real Lamont Cranston. The actual man who held stock in Centralized Power was still abroad. Guised as Cranston, The Shadow had attended the stockholder’s meeting to gain first-hand information of the swindle that he knew must lie behind the corporation’s failure.

As Cranston, he had heard something that interested him as The Shadow. Professor Lessep’s experiment — one that involved crime solution — was a project that might concern The Shadow in the future.

Police Commissioner Wainwright Barth dined nightly at the Cobalt Club. Barth was a friend of Cranston’s. He would be pleased to learn that Cranston had returned from abroad; glad to know that his friend was also invited to the affair at Lessep’s. They would go there together, once they had met at the Cobalt Club.

Wainwright Barth considered The Shadow to be a myth. That was the occasion for The Shadow’s laugh.

For to-night, the police commissioner would have the honor of accompanying The Shadow — in person — to an event that promised unusual developments.

Yet even The Shadow, at this moment, did not suspect the strange doings that lay in store. Chance was leading him to a happening that was destined to have amazing consequences. The Shadow was approaching the beginning of a trail that would bring astounding crime!