The Wealth Seeker

CHAPTER XVI. WESTON ORDAINS

COMMISSIONER RALPH WESTON used a Manhattan apartment as his town residence. It was here that he took Joe Cardona and Lamont Cranston. The place was quiet, for the servants had retired.

Weston led the way into a little office. He seated himself behind a desk.

There was something in Weston’s air that indicated the solution of a problem. The ride through the crisp night air of Long Island had evidently stimulated the commissioner’s thoughts. He waved his hand toward the telephone as he spoke to Lamont Cranston.

“We shall not be long,” stated Weston. “If you wish to call the Cobalt Club and have your car come here, you are welcome to do so, Cranston.”

“Never mind,” came the reply. “I can take a cab to the club. I am glad, however, that you will not require me for long. I am going away to-morrow and I have matters to which I must attend before I leave.”

“Another big game hunt in Africa?”

“No. A quiet sojourn on Easter Island, among the prehistoric monoliths.”

Commissioner Weston smiled indulgently. He knew that Cranston had a penchant for visiting strange, out-of-the-way spots. It seemed a touch of irony that the globe-trotter who looked everywhere for adventure should have found it in New York.

Weston wondered if Cranston had welcomed the excitement. Apparently not; Cranston’s present mood seemed one of annoyance. Nevertheless, Weston knew that Cranston possessed coolness and that his opinion of conditions at Satruff’s was apt to be a good one. It was upon this subject that Weston voiced his present questions.

“Cranston,” he asked, “how did you come to learn that Folsom Satruff was Dorand?”

“Satruff told me his identity,” returned Cranston.

“How long ago?”

“After the night when the first raid occurred.”

“Ah. I see. You aided him on that occasion. Who else knew then that Satruff was Dorand?”

“McEwen knew; so did Doctor Harlow. The old chap, Okum, was also in Satruff’s confidence.”

“Riggs?”

“No. He knows nothing. You understand, commissioner, that I am simply repeating what Satruff told me. He asked my advice regarding his circumstances.”

“I understand. What about this man Vincent? How does it happen that he knew nothing at all about Dorand’s identity?”

“I can explain that quite completely.” A smile appeared thinly on Cranston’s lips. “Satruff, when he decided not to inform the police, did, however, determine to take a new man into his employ. That was against McEwen’s advice. Satruff, in order to obtain a man whom he could trust, asked me to recommend one. I chose Vincent.”

“I see. Then Vincent did not meet Satruff until after the first raid.”

“Exactly. What is more, Satruff soft-pedaled his Dorand activities for the present. Vincent went there purely to be on hand in case of an emergency. I can vouch for him; what is more, I can assure you that he had never even heard of Folsom Satruff until I arranged matters for him to enter Satruff’s employ.”

“Cranston,” declared Commissioner Weston, rising and extending his hand, “your information has cleared matters. I can visualize the situation at Satruff’s much better now. There is no need to detain you further, and I wish you an enjoyable excursion among the monoliths at Easter Island.”

While Cardona remained seated, Weston accompanied Cranston to the outer door of the apartment. He bade his friend good-by, closed the door and returned to his little office. So far as Commissioner Weston was concerned, Cranston had departed and would not come back.

THE commissioner would have been astounded, however, had he been able to view Cranston’s actions in the hallway. As soon as the apartment door had closed, the millionaire globe-trotter produced a blackened pick and applied it to the lock.

A click. The door opened. Lamont Cranston returned to the dim light of Weston’s living room. With long, silent strides, he moved across the floor toward the office. There was something sinister in his step.

Lamont Cranston was a transformed being.

He had not resumed the cloak and hat of The Shadow. Those garments had been discarded somewhere for the night. In manner and method, however, Cranston was The Shadow. His face seemed lost in gloom, as his back turned toward the light. His shape was followed by a long gliding patch of darkness that trailed across the floor.

Shadowlike, he arrived at the door of Weston’s office. His hand turned the knob. The door opened, so imperceptibly that it could not be noticed. A burning eye peered through the crevice. Watching and listening, The Shadow was here to learn what passed between Weston and Cardona.

The commissioner, leaning back in his swivel chair, was eyeing the detective with a smile. The Shadow could hear the words that Weston uttered; they mingled commendation with criticism.

“Cardona,” declared Weston, “I have all confidence in your ability as a practical detective. In fact, I consider that the services which you render are unique. At times, however, I am forced to admit that you lack perspicacity.”

Cardona was puzzled by the term. Weston continued to enjoy his indulgent smile.

“In other words,” he stated, “you lack clear-sightedness. I do not doubt that you have gained a very good idea regarding the possible source of the trouble at Satruff’s, particularly as you told me you had obtained some important data bearing on the case.

“But that is just the reason why you should have been more subtle. I do not ask you to play dumb; that would not be a wise part. You should, however, exert some form of strategy. Turn to another issue when there is one which should be reserved for later discussion. Do as I did to-night.”

Cardona sat dumfounded. He had not yet caught the full drift of the commissioner’s remarks. Weston made his explanation clear.

“My mind,” said the commissioner, “was considering the same question as yours: we had learned why the raiders for the underworld came to Satruff’s. We learned that when Satruff told us he was Dorand. What we wanted to know was how they discovered that Satruff was Dorand.

“That was a subject to keep to ourselves because of the people who were there. So I turned the conversation to a different matter; namely, my concern for the safety of Satruff’s wealth. The trend turned toward the decision that I wanted: to have Satruff keep his incognito and to hold his money where it is.”

“Leaving it open for more trouble,” objected Cardona.

“Trouble for which we will be prepared,” stated the commissioner. “I saw the very thing that you saw, Cardona. I knew that these men from the underworld must have learned of Satruff’s identity through some leak.

“I counted five men present besides Satruff. Any one of them could have passed along the word regarding Dorand. I did not want you to even indicate that fact. I could not talk to Satruff himself; I did the next best thing. I talked to the one man who I knew would not be concerned even indirectly with ways of crime.”

“Lamont Cranston.”

“Yes. I brought him here to learn what he might know because I was sure that his information would be reliable. I did not mention any suspicions that were in my mind. I merely prompted Cranston to tell me facts. He did.

“We know that there is a link between the two gang raids. We must find a connection between one of the men in Satruff’s confidence and the raiders themselves. Cranston, of course, is eliminated. He has definitely given Vincent a clean bill of health. That leaves us exactly four men who could have betrayed the fact that Satruff is Dorand.”

“Three,” corrected Cardona. “McEwen, Okum, and Harlow.”

“I am including Riggs,” announced Weston. “Satruff never took the servant into his confidence. Yet Riggs has been a part of the household. He may not be so ignorant as he pretends.

“You see, Cardona, we must never eliminate a possibility. I have included every individual — four in all — who could possibly have betrayed Satruff. We must concentrate upon those four. From four, we may be able to study one.”

A TRIUMPHANT gleam appeared upon Cardona’s face. Weston saw it. His smile faded. The commissioner loved to show his superiority in reasoning; yet at times, Cardona had a trick of turning the tables. This was coming now.

“You want one?” Cardona laughed gruffly as he spoke. “All right, commissioner. I’ll name one man for you.”

“One of those four?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“Doctor Wesley Hallow.”

Commissioner Weston leaned back in his swivel chair. He tapped the desk with his fingers. He put a question as he eyed the ceiling.

“Reasons, Cardona,” he ordered.

“Harlow was there at the first raid,” asserted the detective. “He had gone outside before the trouble began. He showed up in back of the raiders. Said he saw people prowling about the house.”

“Perhaps he did.”

“When he came in,” continued Cardona, “he plugged Pug Hoffler. Killed the man just as Pug was going to spill something.

“Now comes the second raid. Again, Harlow went out. This time he came through the house. He piled on Rabbit Gorton just as Rabbit was going to talk.”

“But he didn’t shoot Rabbit.”

“No. He couldn’t. He was wise enough not to have a gun because that looked bad before. He tried to grab Rabbit’s gat, though, and I’ve got a hunch that he would have plugged Rabbit with the guy’s own revolver.”

“Then you think that Harlow is the tipster behind these gang raids?”

“Yes.”

Weston continued to tap the desk. He still eyed the ceiling and his words became reflective.

“Some one is working from Satruff’s,” declared the commissioner. “I see your reasoning, Cardona; namely that the inside man might be ready to kill his gangster accomplice before the fellow could talk when cornered.

“But we can apply good reasoning to any of the others concerned. First of all, Okum. He let the gangsters in both times. Harlow saved him the trouble of killing Pug. It was Okum, though, who shot Rabbit.

“I’ll go further. We might figure McEwen as the tipster; a man staying completely away, letting events take their own course; or, for that matter, Riggs might be our quarry. His part has been so passive that it could well excite suspicion.”

A smile appeared upon Cardona’s lips. Weston did not see it. He was still looking toward the ceiling, smiling in his turn.

“All four must be watched,” decided the commissioner. “I grant you that Harlow is a prime case; at the same time, I think I have established the fact that Okum is quite as possible an undercover crook as Harlow. Until you have more evidence, Cardona, you should not be so sure of yourself.”

“I agree with you,” stated Cardona, in an emphatic tone. “You are right, commissioner. Yet I still pick Harlow.”

THIS thrust brought Weston’s eyes from the ceiling. The commissioner stared at the detective and caught the triumphant gleam in Cardona’s face. Weston looked for an explanation and received it.

“I’m working on more than a hunch, commissioner,” announced Cardona. “I’m working on evidence. I picked my man — Harlow — and I’ve been watching him. I’ve got what I wanted.”

“You mean that Harlow is linked with Pug and Rabbit?”

“I figure it that way. I’ll tell you why. I watched Harlow’s office early to-night and I saw a guy that I knew come there to see him.”

“A gangster?”

“Yes. A fellow named Tex Lowner. A mighty tough bimbo, Tex. I followed him.”

“Where?”

“To the Club Madrid. A blind trail. Tex was laying off to-night. I thought I would have to wait a while before I could figure more about Harlow; but this trouble out at Satruff’s clinched the game.”

“But if this fellow Tex Lowner was not concerned in it, you have no tangible evidence on Harlow.”

“Haven’t I? Listen, commissioner. There were two tough babies who hated each other worse than poison. One was Tex Lowner. The other was Rabbit Gorton. They were the biggest enemies of all the crooks in New York.

“Pug Hoffler fits into their feud. He worked for both of them. When he came out of stir, it was a sure bet he’d go and get in right with one or the other — not with both. But it was a sure bet that the one he didn’t see would be watching him like a hawk.”

“Good reasoning, Cardona,” nodded Weston approvingly.

“All right,” resumed the detective. “Pug Hoffler raided Satruff’s. I thought he was working on his own — he could have been at the time, for all I knew. Then along comes Rabbit Gorton to tackle the same job. That makes it look like Pug was teamed with Rabbit. They were in the know. Somebody must have tipped them.”

“And you think it was Harlow.”

“Sure. That’s where Tex fits in. He was watching Pug and he knew that the guy was back in with Rabbit. He would be watching Rabbit closer after that. I figure Rabbit sent Pug ahead to do the job while he kept laying low. Then, when Pug flopped, Rabbit took the job himself.”

“Then Tex—”

“Tex couldn’t talk to Rabbit. But he was watching Rabbit’s game and he must have found out somehow that Harlow was in on it. So he went to Harlow— maybe to threaten him — maybe to get him away from Rabbit.

“Let’s go back to the first raid. When Pug got trapped, he said he was going to squeal. That’s why Harlow plugged him. When Rabbit got trapped to-night, he may have figured that Harlow had been talking to Tex. He was going to squeal, too. So Harlow jumped on him. I’m not saying that Harlow was a double-crosser. I’m just saying that Pug and Rabbit may have thought they were double-crossed.”

COMMISSIONER WESTON linked his hands and rested his chin upon them. He was all interest in what Cardona had just told him. Yet he saw vague thoughts in the detective’s theory.

“If Harlow is linked with Tex,” decided Weston, “it could have been to get rid of Pug and Rabbit — or to clear the way for Tex to get at Satruff’s vault. Yet that seems a purposeless plan. It would be folly to create a stir at Satruff’s and then follow with further raids.

“Yet these underworld characters are desperate. It may be that some new scheme is in the offing. We know only that two raids have failed; that some one could have let word out to gangsters; that — from what you have just told me — Harlow is the likely offender.

“So far, results have been disastrous to the invaders. It may be that none will dare a new attempt. We must beware of a more subtle possibility — some one from the inside working out, instead of some one from the outside working in.

“We know that the focal point is Folsom Satruff’s strong-room, so long as he keeps his money there and intends to continue his Dorand philanthropies. Therefore, the spot to watch is Satruff’s.”

“You have men out there now,” observed Cardona.

“Yes,” said Weston, “and so long as they are there the villains will not show their hands. We have no shred of evidence that can absolutely take in those who are behind the game or prove that Harlow is the traitor that we want.

“To-morrow, Satruff’s will be unguarded. The place will be open for the new scheme to be tried. But from to-morrow on, there will be absolute protection so far as we are concerned. One capable man, properly stationed, will be all that we require.

“You will go to Satruff’s, Cardona. Stay there, unknown to any, save Satruff and Vincent, whom we know that we can trust. Keep behind the scenes. Explain yourself to Satruff. When crime comes again, should it come, it will be your part to handle it.”

The commissioner arose and clapped Cardona on the shoulder. The commendation brought elation to the detective. He arose to leave the office. He shook hands with Weston before departing.

During that brief interval, the door of Weston’s office closed completely. A stealthy, elongated figure crossed the floor of Weston’s living room. It passed through the outer door and moved rapidly to the stairway that led below.

A soft laugh came from the lips of Lamont Cranston. It was the laugh of The Shadow. The master sleuth had listened to theories and had heard plans. Locked in his thoughts were facts that the speakers had not considered.

Where Commissioner Ralph Weston and Detective Joe Cardona resorted to speculative plans, The Shadow had formed his own campaign, based upon the hidden knowledge that he had gained!