When Imam Singh reappeared in Rajah Brahman's seance room, to indicate that the last of the visitors had gone, the seer arose from his throne and cast aside his resplendent turban.
"It all went smooth to-night, Tony," he said. "Good work, boy!" With his assistant's aid, the mystic divested himself of the remainder of his Hindu garb, and drew the package of cigarettes from his trousers pocket. While he smoked, Tony brought in the basin, towel, and jar of cold cream. Rajah Brahman laid his cigarette aside and attacked his make-up. Smooth-faced, and several shades lighter in complexion, he stretched his arms and laughed. Then he went to the tall table that stood in a corner of the room — the same table that Imam Singh had brought forward for the slate writing.
The transformed seer turned the table upside down. From a rack like slide, he removed a blank slate.
"I knocked that nephew goggle-eyed, didn't I?" he asked. "This is a sweet stunt, the way I work it now, Tony. I pulled out the message slate with one hand, while I slid the blank into the slots. That was the time I didn't get the message."
He paused and laughed.
"They sure fell for it," he added. "Neither the dame nor her nephew had an idea that she was writing her name on top of a slate that already had the message! I let her handle it alone from then on. I thought that copy of the old man's writing would knock them dead."
Tony, no longer wearing the solemn countenance of Imam Singh, was grinning as he carried the garments of the rajah into the adjoining room. The unmasked Hindu made a brief inspection of the cabinet at the side of the room, then joined his assistant.
Picking up the jacket of his Hindu costume, Rajah Brahman felt among its folds. Not discovering what he sought, he turned to his companion.
"Where did you put the phony watch, Tony?"
"It must be there still."
"I can't find it. Sure you didn't take it out of the secret pocket?"
"No."
"That's funny," declared the rajah. "I shoved it there when I yanked my hand away from Castelle — just before I gave you the word to turn on the lights."
"Maybe that's it," said Tony, pointing to an object on a table in the corner. "I don't remember putting it there, though."
Rajah Brahman picked up a watch that was lying on the table. He placed the stem to his lips. He blew a puff of air, and the watch itself slid away along a noiseless telescoping rod that stretched its slender length a distance of six feet.
Gripping the stem beneath his teeth, the rajah puffed slowly, and the front of the watch opened. A balloonlike form came into view— appearing more like a toy than a spirit — for there was light in this room.
The mystic shook his head. He sucked in his breath. The balloon flopped into the watch. Rajah's head went back, and the bulk of the fake watch slid down the telescopic rod. The rajah locked it with a click of the stem, and laid the watch on the table.
"That's the old one," he declared. "I had it out to-night, before the seance. I was using the new one — it makes a spook twice as big as the other, so it's more effective.
"Take a look around the seance room, Tony," he added with a touch of worry. "It would be a bad thing to have that lying where someone might pick it up."
Before the assistant could start forth on his search, a buzzer sounded.
"That's Martin Slade," declared Rajah Brahman. "Show him in, Tony." A minute later, a cool-faced man entered the sanctum and smiled as he viewed the shirt-sleeved rajah. The mystic looked toward his visitor.
Martin Slade was a man of good appearance. Quietly dressed, faultlessly attired, he presented himself well. Only the slight shiftiness of his eyes betrayed the manner of a crook.
"Hello, Bert," greeted Slade, In a smooth, convincing voice. "The chief told me you wanted to see me."
"I do," said Rajah Brahman. "Sit down. I've got a couple of jobs for you, right here in New York. You're going to stay here for a while."
Slade nodded and took a chair.
"First of all," declared Rajah Brahman, "we must clinch the Garwood proposition."
"I cleaned that up for you, Bert," responded Slade. "You know how I worked it down in Philadelphia. The old man's out of the way—"
"Yes," interrupted the rajah, "but there's another trouble now. Mrs. Garwood has come to New York, as Anita Marie told her to do. But she has brought her nephew along with her. A fellow from Texas, named Dick Terry. He was here to-night at the seance."
"Did he try to queer your act?"
"No. On the contrary, I fooled him completely. But I've sized him up, Slade, and he's going to be a tough customer. It would be best to have him out of the picture."
"That's easy, here in New York. You know how I stand with Barney Gleason's mob. They don't know my racket. They'll do what I tell them — cheap."
"All right. Keep that in mind. But remember — it's got to be done so the old lady won't suspect anything is wrong. Fix it so the nephew disappears, and is in wrong with his aunt. Think it over, Slade. See me about it later."
"I'll do that, Bert. What's the other job?"
"An easy one for you, Slade. I've added a new sucker to the list— an easy play if I can get the story. Jacques left a complete report on him. He was here to-night. Tony!"
The last word was in a louder tone. The white clad form of Imam Singh entered the sanctum.
"Get me the dope on Telford," ordered Rajah Brahman.
The assistant went away, and returned with a sheet of paper. Rajah Brahman smiled as he consulted the document, holding it close to the light so he could read it more readily.
"Here's the dope, Slade," he said. "Telford is a wealthy man from New Orleans. We don't have a psychic circle there, yet, or we probably would have landed him direct.
"However, Telford had a row with his only son, several years ago. The son ran away. The old man heard from him in New York. He learned that the son— James — had gone to sea. He thinks that the boy drowned in a ship that sunk off the coast of Virginia.
"Telford has been living in a house on Long Island, hoping that he might trace poor young Jim — if the boy is still alive.
"Lately, he got the idea that maybe if his son was dead, the spirits could be of help. That's how he happened to get in touch with Professor Jacques.
"So far, the information is meager, but Jacques has learned one thing that is going to help. Telford has accumulated everything pertaining to his son— letters that young Jim wrote; a diary that he kept; newspaper clippings; photographs and what not."
"Did Jacques see any of them?" questioned Slade.
"No," replied the rajah. "That's the best part of it. The old man has them all in a safe out on Long Island. He's living alone in a small home. An old housekeeper is there, but she's a bit deaf. Jacques talked to her on the telephone once."
"So my job is—"
"To crack that safe some night when Telford is away. Find out all you can — but don't leave any traces. Telford said something about going up to Boston to-morrow to see an old seaman who was on the same boat with his son.
"Get this: the old man talks about his grief, but he's cagey. That's why I like it. When I begin to give him specific information, he will fall like a ton of bricks."
"If he's going to be away," said Slade thoughtfully, "I may be able to bring the stuff in here, and take it back after you've looked at it."
"Great!" exclaimed the rajah. "If you can work it that way, so much the better."
"That means I'll have to stay in New York," said Slade. "Well, the other jobs can wait. St. Louis is all right. So is Cleveland. The Chicago job is off for the present, anyhow. Madame Plunket is working there, now, instead of Cincinnati.
"The chief and I talked about it, this afternoon. She has most of the members of the old psychic circle, and it isn't a good idea to work on her customers so soon after the Dykeman job."
"That settles it, then," said the rajah. "Go after Telford right away. Then look over the Garwood proposition. I want that fellow Terry out of the way."
Rajah Brahman paced slowly back and forth across the room. He was an incongruous figure, now, in his shirt sleeves.
He was thinking about something of importance — a matter which he wished to discuss with Martin Slade. But he was doubtful of the advisability. At last, he stopped and put his first statement into the form of a question.
"What else did the chief have to say?" asked the rajah.
"He talked about the copper stock," said Slade. "It's going great guns. He's letting it out as fast as the brokers call for it. He says if it keeps on the way it's going now, he'll unload completely and start on another line."
"He'd better be thinking about it pretty quickly, then," declared Rajah Brahman. "When he dropped Consolidated Timber and started an Coronado Copper, it took a couple of months for the suckers to switch.
"They were still crying for the timber stock. That means a switch all along the line. Little Flower can't begin to change her tune overnight, and there's a flock of mediums working her overtime right now."
"He's going to speak to you about it," said Slade.
"Did he mention anything else?" questioned the rajah.
"Nothing of importance."
"Maybe he thought it would be best to keep quiet," said Rajah Brahman, "but it's up to me as well as to him. So I'm going to let you in on it, Slade.
"I was talking with the chief the other night. We were discussing that affair up at the Dalban. We thought — only thought, mind you— that maybe The Shadow was mixed in it."
"The Shadow!" exclaimed Slade.
A change came over the man's calm face. He glanced about him as though expecting a sinister form to emerge from the curtains of the anteroom. Rajah Brahman eyed his confederate closely.
"Did you ever see The Shadow?" he asked.
"No," returned Slade. "I don't want to see him, either! I've kept clear of him for a long while, Bert. They say he's uncanny — that he can be everywhere at once. I don't like it, Bert, if he's in it—"
"Don't talk foolishly, Slade," argued Rajah Brahman. "We're only discussing possibilities. It looks like The Shadow, and it doesn't look like him. That's enough, isn't it? All it means is to keep your eyes open."
"I'll do that, Bert! If I get the least suspicion that The Shadow is wise to anything, I won't be asleep a minute. I work smooth, Bert, and there's only one man in the country who could get on my trail if he ever went after it. That's The Shadow himself!"
"It doesn't concern you, at present," said the rajah quietly. "The Jacques affair was a mistake. It's not linked with any of your doings. I'm only telling you, because you're working in New York, right now. The Shadow doesn't fool around the sticks. Cincinnati — Philadelphia— all the rest of them. The Shadow isn't in those places."
"That's right, Bert," said Slade, in a relieved tone.
"I'm the one who must be careful," declared Rajah Brahman. "And I'm not worried about The Shadow. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind meeting him. If he's as slippery as they say he is, he'd be a, good assistant to use in the spook cabinet."
The tone of derision made Martin Slade grin. His momentary qualms were ended. He spoke reassuringly.
"You don't have to worry," declared Slade. "What if The Shadow should find out that Rajah Brahman was Bert Clutten? You've never been mixed up in the killings, directly. Neither has Tony."
"I said that I was not worrying," responded Rajah Brahman. "But I'm on the lookout, just the same. If The Shadow took a shot at the seance Jacques was giving, he may try the same with me. That's all."
"He can't do it, Bert," declared Slade emphatically. "From all I hear, it's beginning to leak out that the police are after a stranger who was at the Dalban seance. The rumor is that they think an unknown man killed Harvey. So that bird — whether he's The Shadow or not— will have to lay low for a while."
"That's what the chief and I decided," said Rajah Brahman. "But I have a different idea about it, now. I wouldn't be surprised if The Shadow should pop into my seance room any night. You know who's handling the Harvey murder, don't you?"
"Sure. Joe Cardona," Slade answered.
"Right. Where is he?"
"There's talk about him being away on leave."
"Right," the rajah responded. "Did you stop to think that this is an odd time for him to be away?" Slade became slightly nervous.
"You don't mean" — his voice was tense — "that Cardona might have got wise to the other rings—"
"Not a bit of it!" laughed Rajah Brahman derisively. "That flatfoot couldn't get wise to anything. At the same time, I'd rather have him here in New York than away."
"Why?" questioned Slade, in surprise.
"Because Cardona loves to kick up a fuss," Rajah Brahman explained. "If The Shadow is in this, playing a waiting game, he can't do much while Cardona is in town. Cardona would come blundering on the job as soon as The Shadow started anything. That's why I think there's a reason for Cardona's absence."
"You mean The Shadow?"
"Yes. I mean The Shadow may have decoyed Cardona somewhere. Unless — which is only one chance in a thousand — Cardona has really got a clue. But he can't get far with it if he has. It's The Shadow I think about — not Cardona-"
"I get you, Bert."
"If Cardona moves," the seer continued, "he gives himself away a week beforehand. But you can't tell how The Shadow works. I've heard enough about him to know that. So I'm keeping my eyes open.
"You do the same," he cautioned. "Watch yourself when you come in here. Watch when you go out." The men strolled into the anteroom, Rajah Brahman repeating his admonition. The tall, temporarily smooth-faced mystic was calm and at ease, but Martin Slade was still dubious as he glanced suspiciously about him. Noting the man's manner, Rajah Brahman pressed his lesson home.
"Come only when necessary," he said. "The chief is staying away except when he can come without anybody suspecting who he is.
"Jacques is out altogether, keeping quiet, and not coming near here. He shipped his paraphernalia over here, and that may have been a mistake. But it was the only way he could get rid of the chair."
"You've got it here now?"
"Yes. Downstairs."
"It's a clever gag, isn't it?"
"Well," declared Rajah Brahman in a noncommittal tone, "I can't say it's no good at all, because nobody suspected it up at the Dalban. They must have looked it over with everything else that was there.
"But I know better gags than that chair, and I wouldn't use it in a seance of my own."
"Particularly now," said Slade.
"Not at any time!" declared Rajah Brahman. "I have my own methods— and I'll fool the mediums with them, as well as the public. The Shadow, too! I'll spot that fellow the minute he puts his soft foot in this place!"
Martin Slade left by the outer door. Rajah Brahman returned to the inner sanctum. He had forgotten all about his missing watch — the tricky device with which he had produced his baby spook. Not for one instant did the mystic suppose that it was anywhere other than some place in this apartment. Rajah Brahman had stated to Martin Slade that he would be able to spot The Shadow. Had the pretended seer possessed the second sight which he claimed, he would have had his opportunity now. For scarcely had the curtain dropped before the door of the inner shrine, than a figure emerged from a darkened spot on the wall beside that very curtain.
It was The Shadow — the tall, mysterious man in black. Once more he had stood unseen before the portal of Rajah Brahman's sanctum.
Softly, The Shadow laughed. Then his tall form glided along the path that Martin Slade had taken. A soft, eerie laugh echoed in the room to mark The Shadow's passing.