THERE was a marked tenseness in David Tholbin’s expression as the sallow-faced young man met the gaze of Parker Noyes. It was obvious that Tholbin viewed the attorney with a sense of awe. He seemed perplexed by the purpose of his visit, and shifted uneasily in his chair.
Noyes, on the contrary, was quite at ease. Seated behind his desk, he folded his hands and surveyed his visitor with a severe, though kindly gaze.
“Tholbin,” said the old attorney quietly, “you are probably aware of the fact that I represent Tobias Waddell in all his legal matters.”
Tholbin nodded.
“Also,” continued Noyes, “I have his confidence in other affairs. We are old friends.”
“I know it,” returned Tholbin.
“Therefore” — Noyes spoke in a speculative tone — “the matter of Betty Waddell’s future husband is something in which I feel more than a passing interest. I, as much as Mr. Waddell, am interested in seeing that she makes a suitable marriage.”
Tholbin’s gaze was challenging. The young man had adopted an air of bravado. His policy was to let Noyes do the talking. The lawyer’s next remarks, however, were to cause him great concern.
“Mr. Waddell,” said Noyes, “is anxious that his daughter should marry a man of considerable wealth. My opinions are different” — Noyes smiled before he dropped his bombshell — “because I am more interested in whom she should not marry.
“I, for instance, doubt the advisability of Tobias Waddell having a son-in-law who has been detected in such irregularities as crooked gambling, intended blackmail, and fraudulent stock transactions.”
“To whom are you referring?” Tholbin’s question was harsh and sullen.
“To you,” declared Noyes.
Tholbin was on his feet, his fists clenched. His attitude was threatening.
“You can’t prove it!” he cried. “There have been lies told about me, but I spiked them! There is not a man in New York who can give evidence against me!”
“None in New York City,” replied Noyes quietly, “but there are three in New York State.”
“Where are they?” demanded Tholbin.
“In Sing Sing Prison,” replied Noyes.
Tholbin sat down suddenly. His clenched fists opened. He found himself staring hopelessly at the old lawyer. Parker Noyes was as benign as ever, but to Tholbin the kindliness in the attorney’s face had turned to malice.
“What are you going to do?” asked Tholbin, bluntly. “Give me away?”
His eyes were looking straight into those of the old attorney. Parker Noyes continued to smile, and Tholbin was amazed to detect a sign of approval.
“If I intended to end your game,” said Noyes quietly, “I would not summon you here. I have simply mentioned that you do not, on your past and present reputation, come up to the standards set by either Tobias Waddell or myself. There are certain tangible objections to your marriage with Betty Waddell. I have brought you here to learn if they can be eliminated.”
THOLBIN was puzzled. He could think of no reply. Noyes paused and stared easily past the young man’s shoulder. A book moved slightly outward from the middle shelf of the bookcase. The same volume moved again. Noyes smiled.
“Let me see.” The attorney’s tone was speculative. “As I remember it, Mr. Waddell and his daughter intend to sail for Europe within a few days. Are they going on the Bremen?”
“The Bremen sailed to-day,” corrected Tholbin. “They are sailing on the Galathia.”
“Ah, yes. So I recall. Were you, by any chance, intending to take the same boat?”
“Yes.”
“I think that Mr. Waddell is going directly to Paris. Was that your destination also?”
“Yes.”
Again, Noyes paused. He received the same signal, unknown to Tholbin. The lawyer resumed his discourse.
“Tholbin,” he said emphatically, “I am going to be frank with you! I have studied your past record — obtained from authentic sources. You have lived by your wits.”
“There’s nothing wrong about that.”
“Agreed. Your past has been unsavory, but it has only reached the borderline of crime.”
“They can’t jail me for anything I’ve done,” declared Tholbin tersely.
“No,” admitted Noyes, “you have been clever in your way. After all, cleverness is a virtue, if used with discretion. I take it that you have accumulated some resources?”
“Yes, I have money,” said Tholbin. “About fifteen thousand dollars. I can get more when I need it — and still keep clear of the borderline you have mentioned.”
“Mr. Waddell’s idea of wealth,” remarked the lawyer, “is based upon a minimum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Tell me, Tholbin, do you think that you could accumulate that sum by your wits?”
“No,” replied Tholbin dejectedly.
“Mr. Waddell thinks of the past,” remarked Noyes. “He wants to see money— available money. I think of the future. I believe that a man who had two hundred and fifty thousand dollars could keep away from crime — even away from doubtful activities. Do you agree with me?”
Tholbin laughed.
“You wouldn’t have to scratch if you had a quarter of a million,” he said. “I suppose you are going to show me how I can get that much?”
There was irony in Tholbin’s tone. Parker Noyes looked squarely at the young man; then beyond him, to the bookcase. The double signal reappeared.
“Tholbin” — the lawyer’s voice was filled with conviction — “you have made an excellent guess. That is just what I propose to do. I am going to give you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, in return for certain services which I know you are capable of giving me!”
Tholbin’s mouth opened wide. He could not believe what he had heard; yet the lawyer’s expression was one of absolute seriousness.
“Now listen carefully, Tholbin,” continued Noyes. “I am going to tell you exactly what I wish done. You are to go with the Waddells to Paris. Is that agreeable?”
“Of course,” replied Tholbin, still amazed.
“You will go under excellent conditions,” resumed the lawyer. “I shall advise Tobias Waddell to treat you as a real friend. He will follow my advice. I shall speak to him highly of your reputation.”
“Of my reputation?” echoed Tholbin.
“Of a fictitious reputation which I shall create,” said Noyes. “Waddell is impressed by wealth. I shall tell him that you possess it. He will believe me.”
“That sounds great,” said Tholbin enthusiastically. “But I don’t see the point.”
“You will,” smiled Noyes. “I have business in Paris. While you are there, you will be approached by a certain man who will deliver items of luggage into your care. As your own luggage, by my arrangements, will be shipped with Waddell’s belongings, the new baggage will come back with Waddell, also. You understand?”
Although puzzled, Tholbin nodded. He realized that the old lawyer was contemplating some irregular scheme, and that he would not learn all there was to know. Nevertheless, there might be advantages in ignorance.
NOYES, as he watched Tholbin, also eyed the bookcase. Catching a double motion of the particular volume which he was observing, the attorney proceeded.
“The return from Paris will be unexpected,” continued Noyes. “I shall arrange that part. Your one task will be to see that the special baggage comes aboard, and is kept in an available place. I count on your cleverness to attend to that. Later, you will receive word from me concerning the disposal of that baggage.
“But remember: I shall rely upon you; and at the same time, there will be others available to take up your work, should you fail in any detail.”
Noyes paused thoughtfully, and after a few minutes had passed, Tholbin became speculative.
“What else?” he inquired.
“Nothing else,” replied Noyes.
“You mean” — Tholbin’s voice showed his incredulity — “you mean that if I — when I have finished the job that you require, you will give me—”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” interposed Noyes, in a quiet tone.
“It sounds like a pipe dream,” declared Tholbin. “But if you mean it, I’m your man. That’s real money you’re offering. If you are in your right mind—”
“I am quite sane,” said Noyes, as Tholbin paused apologetically. “Quite sane, but perhaps a trifle eccentric. I have certain hobbies, Tholbin, and I am growing old. My own wealth is considerable. I have odd theories.
“One is, that a man who will willingly obey a person in whom he trusts is deserving of great reward. The other is that certain individuals who are on the borderline of crime can be restrained when given a fair chance; and that when so restrained, they make the best of citizens.”
The lawyer finished this harangue with a pleasant smile. David Tholbin pondered. Suddenly, a gleam of understanding flashed across his darkish face. He became very serious in manner.
“I shall do whatever you order, Mr. Noyes,” he declared. “I shall obey your instructions to the letter. Give me the necessary details, and all will be as you wish.”
“The details?” Noyes paused and stared thoughtfully. He saw the book on the shelf move once only. “Ah, yes, the details. They will come later, Tholbin. Later, after I have talked to Tobias Waddell. You will hear from me before the Galathia sails.”
“Two days after to-morrow,” reminded Tholbin.
“Very good.”
Parker Noyes arose and extended his hand. Tholbin shook it warmly, and the lawyer ushered him to the door of the office.
AFTER the young man had gone Noyes hastened to the bookcase and opened it. Frederick Froman stepped forth and gripped the old attorney eagerly.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Wonderful! You have solved our only problem. I see it all shaping perfectly!”
Froman’s eyes were glowing with enthusiasm. Noyes merely smiled in his usual manner.
“We can have him watched,” declared Froman, “but our men will be in the offing. Some one might suspect Tholbin, but no one would suspect Waddell. You are a genius, Noyes!”
“The final touch was important,” said the lawyer. “I could see his face, Froman. You could not. I impressed him with the thought that I am ready to bestow a fortune upon some deserving young man who can show his ability to follow instructions to the letter. I shall preserve that thought. He is ours. He will stake all for that quarter million.”
“A trifle!” exclaimed Froman. “A paltry trifle! My men are working for sentiment” — he laughed coldly — “and you even managed Helmsworth through helping him get the backing that he needed. We can afford to pay that trivial price. Think of it, Noyes! You and I, with the wealth of—”
“Let us consider that later,” interrupted Noyes dryly. “There is one detail that you have overlooked. Tobias Waddell, influential though he may be, must meet the customs officials.”
A smile froze on Froman’s face. In his enthusiasm he had forgotten that all-important detail that concerned the delivery of the mysterious baggage that Tholbin was to handle.
“Of course,” said Froman. “Of course. I had forgotten—”
“But I did not forget,” interposed Noyes. “Think a moment. You will have the solution.”
“Moscow,” said Froman thoughtfully. “That must be managed immediately. Paris affairs can wait there. All will be safe, but we can dispose of nothing there. Then the shipment. Across the Atlantic, to New York—”
“Why to New York?”
Froman stared hard when he heard the lawyer’s question. Then keenness flashed in his eyes.
“Helmsworth!” he exclaimed.
Parker Noyes nodded. Froman grasped the attorney’s hand. The two men walked to the door of the little office. Froman did not utter another word. Only Noyes spoke.
“Send word by code to Moscow,” said the lawyer.
Frederick Froman nodded and left.
NEW events had taken place in New York. Plotters had changed their plans. Miles out to sea, the Bremen was moving swiftly on its rapid course across the Atlantic. On that ship was the only man who could have coped with these new problems. That man was The Shadow — on his way to Moscow.
Yet the aftermath of the conferences at the home of Parker Noyes took place upon that very ship. A single light shone upon a table in the corner of a cabin de luxe. Beneath that light were two white hands which held a radiogram that had been received that night.
NINE FIRST THIRD TEN QUARTER NINE HALF SECOND THIRD TEN
Those were the words that formed the message. A strange, numerical code; yet its meaning was evident to the eyes that studied it. The right hand wrote these remarks upon another sheet of paper.
First — Froman. Second — Tholbin. Third — Noyes.
These were the keys. They made it plain that at approximately nine o’clock Frederick Froman had visited Parker Noyes, and had not left until quarter past ten. They also stated that at half past nine, David Tholbin, too, had visited the lawyer, leaving at approximately ten o’clock.
The Shadow’s operatives — Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland — had kept good vigil that night. Although they had learned no vital information, they had reported to Burbank the moves made by the men whom they had been deputed to watch.
New plans were under way; and The Shadow held a slender clew. He had already learned of the negotiations between Froman and Noyes; now he had proof that Tholbin, too, was in the picture.
To The Shadow, all facts had a value. His destination lay ahead, in Moscow; still, he kept in touch with events in New York. Could the meager news be of use to him?
The answer was a soft laugh that whispered through the cabin. The light went out; the laugh continued. At last its ghostly echoes died away. The cabin was empty.
Upon an upper deck of the great ship, a silent man stood cloaked in darkness. Two eyes shone as they peered across the moonlit expanse of the moving ocean.
A mighty brain was thinking, planning, preparing to meet the schemes of master plotters. Its thoughts were duplicating those that had occurred to other minds.
Methods had changed since The Shadow had first set out to thwart the evil plan in Moscow. But, although new problems must be met, The Shadow would be ready. The faithful agents of this master of the night had done their work well.
The Shadow knew!