The Wealth Seeker

CHAPTER XIII. THE SECOND RAID

HARRY VINCENT, agent of The Shadow, was seated in Satruff’s upstairs living room. It had not taken Harry long to acclimate himself to this environment. An immediate friendship had grown between this young man whom Lamont Cranston had recommended and the gray-haired philanthropist who called himself Dorand.

So far, Harry had found matters uneventful. Folsom Satruff had detailed him to secretarial duties. These had consisted purely of correspondence which Satruff had neglected. Not once had Satruff revealed himself in the guise of Dorand.

Yet the millionaire had warned Harry that he had hired him to be on hand in case of trouble. He had told Harry of the attack on the strong-room in which Pug Hoffler had been slain. At Satruff’s advice, Harry went armed with a revolver.

There was something in Harry Vincent’s manner that seemed to inspire Folsom Satruff’s confidence.

Harry was a clean-cut young chap, always alert. That impressed Satruff, particularly because the millionaire had previously relied entirely upon his old and lethargic companion, Bartlett Okum.

It was nearly eleven o’clock. Harry had finished going over notes which Satruff had given him. As he looked up, Harry noticed his employer gazing at him across the room from the fireplace.

“Finished, Vincent?” questioned Satruff.

“Yes,” returned Harry.

“Excellent,” decided Satruff. “It’s good to find some one who can get things done in a hurry. Okum is all right, but he’s getting old and absentminded. He never remembers anything I tell him. He even loses notations when I write them down for him.”

Satruff’s brow furrowed as the millionaire paused. It indicated that the man was displeased with something. At last, he spoke his trouble.

“Okum,” he said, “is a creature of habit. He can hardly be blamed for that. Yet he is stupid. The night that gangsters entered here, he meekly opened the strong-room door when he heard the bell. He acted exactly the same as if some delivery truck had come to that entrance in the middle of the afternoon.

“I have told Okum to notify me if he hears any one at that door. He is liable to forget my instructions.

That is why I have been keeping an eye on him. While you were at your notes, I strolled downstairs and up, just to see what Okum was doing.”

Harry nodded. He recalled that Folsom Satruff had made two or three excursions from the room.

“By the way,” remarked Satruff, changing the subject, “did you send that letter to Tobias McEwen?”

“I did,” answered Harry.

“Good,” rejoined Satruff. “I want to see him. He’s a sulky sort, McEwen. Generally, he comes out here at intervals; but when he feels out of humor, he waits until I summon him. Right now, he’s a bit peeved.”

“Why?”

“On your account.”

“On my account?”

Satruff smiled and nodded as he heard Harry’s puzzled question.

“Yes,” chuckled the millionaire, “McEwen was annoyed because I asked Lamont Cranston if he knew of a young man who could enter my employ. McEwen seemed to think that Okum was the only secretary I needed.

“Sometimes I become disgusted with McEwen; but he has handled my affairs for so many years that I would be very foolish to intrust them to another attorney in his stead.”

Satruff turned toward the doorway as he heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Riggs. The servant entered to make an announcement.

“Doctor Harlow is here, sir,” he stated.

“This late?” Satruff’s face clouded impatiently. “I don’t want to see him.” Then, with a gesture, he added:

“I suppose I shall have to talk with him. Come on, Vincent, we’ll go downstairs.”

THE two walked from the living room. Satruff put a question to Riggs on the way.

“Where is Okum?” he asked.

“Somewhere about the house, sir,” responded Riggs.

“Take a look for him, Vincent,” ordered Satruff, “but not until after I have talked with Harlow and sent him on his way. I don’t feel like a long chat to-night.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs to find Wesley Harlow. Riggs departed in the direction of the kitchen. Satruff introduced Harry to Harlow.

“Glad to see you, Harlow,” said Satruff warmly. “Sorry, though, that I can’t ask you to stay. I have to go over a few business matters with Vincent; after that, I’m turning in for the night.”

“I’d like to talk with you” — Harlow’s tone was nervous — “even if it’s just for a few minutes—”

“Not to-night,” interposed Satruff firmly. “Come around, again, Harlow. To-morrow if you wish; but come earlier.”

Harlow threw a nervous glance in the direction of the stairway. It was evident that the physician wanted to confer with Satruff in the living room above. Satruff forestalled further suggestion. He clapped Harlow on the shoulder and showed the young doctor to the direction of the door.

“Good night,” said Satruff in a firm tone.

Harlow smiled; but Harry could see a fierce display of anger on the thin lips beneath the trim mustache.

Satruff opened the door; Harlow walked out. Satruff closed the door in mild fashion, turned about and went up the stairs.

Harry, glancing about for Okum, saw no sign of the old secretary. After a few minutes, he started up the stairs to report to Satruff. It was then that he heard the ring of a bell.

He would not have caught it had he been above; he realized suddenly that it must be the door on the other side of the house — the entrance to the strong-room which Satruff had mentioned.

Looking over the banister, Harry caught a glimpse of Okum. The old secretary had evidently been in the disused library, a small room on the ground floor. Okum’s stride was hasty; the cadaverous old fellow was heading in the direction of the strong-room.

“Okum!” Harry called the name in a warning tone. Okum did not appear to hear it.

Hurrying down the steps, Harry reached the hallway just as Okum disappeared in the passage to the strong-room.

With quick decision, Harry knew that it would be better to forestall Okum than to rush upstairs to Satruff. Gaining the passage, Harry pressed through to the door of the strong-room and opened, it.

He was just in time to witness a startling occurrence. Okum’s hand was still on the wall switch which controlled the outer door. He had already unlocked the inner door. Before Harry could make a move, the inner door swung open and a pasty-faced, scrawny mobster shoved a gun in Okum’s ribs.

As the invader laughed, the secretary raised his hands and backed across the room, under pressure. A pair of armed henchmen followed. Harry, staring, realized that the menace had come again. A new corps from the underworld, picking the spot where Pug Hoffler had failed, were here to burst the vault that housed Folsom Satruff’s wealth!