Tonight, Holbrook Edkins would receive a guest. He would talk to Lamont Cranston, multi-millionaire, regarding the merits of electrical inventions. Edkins had said but little to Rutledge Mann. He would say much to Lamont Cranston, for he would be dealing with The Shadow — not the master’s agent.
Weird echoes took up the cry of the taunting laugh as it broke into a sibilant spasm of merriment.
Sobbing ghouls seemed to hurl back their answer from limitless corridors of space that were shrouded in the gloom. When the last dying jibe had ended, deep silence reigned throughout the black-walled sanctum.
The Shadow, master of vengeance, had departed. Tonight, his hand would stretch forth to grasp a hidden murderer and end the long regime of unrequited crime.
CHAPTER XIV. MILLIONAIRES MEET
HOLBROOK EDKINS lived in an old brownstone house among the Nineties. From the outside, the place was unpretentious; within, it was sumptuously furnished. The millionaire had altered the ancient mansion to suit his requirements.
The downstairs living room contained a gorgeous array of ornate furniture of Louis Quinze style. Edkins, as he walked among a galaxy of fragile, gilded chairs, looked like the proverbial bull amid a collection of chinaware.
A doorbell rang dully. Edkins glanced at his watch. It showed nine o’clock. This was the hour for which he had set his appointment with Lamont Cranston, through a call to the Cobalt Club. A plainly dressed manservant entered the room and spoke to the millionaire.
“Mr. Lamont Cranston is calling, sir.”
“Show him in!” exclaimed Edkins.
A few moments later, Holbrook Edkins was shaking hands with Lamont Cranston. The host invited his guest to take a chair; the servant appeared with a box of imported cigars. Meanwhile, both men took a mental survey of each other.
Lamont Cranston’s keen eyes summarized Holbrook Edkins in rapid fashion. Edkins, tall and overweight, was evidently a man who enjoyed comfort rather than luxury. He was some fifty years of age, a trifle bald, and inclined toward paunchy cheeks and double chin. While Edkins appeared to he a man who might have his own peculiar prejudice, his countenance betokened a natural friendliness and honesty.
When Edkins looked toward his visitor, he was quick to observe that Lamont Cranston was a most extraordinary man. Tall, lithe, and attired in a black suit, Cranston presented a somber appearance which was increased by the calmness of his face.
Holbrook Edkins had never seen so immobile a countenance. Cranston’s hawklike nose, his sharp, penetrating eyes — these were features that impressed Edkins immediately.
IT was Edkins who opened the conversation. The bluff-faced man felt a trifle ill at ease. He decided that it might be the formal environment of the austere living room. He made a suggestion to his visitor.
“Suppose we go up to my den,” he said. “That’s where I like to talk business. This showroom is my wife’s idea. She likes fancy furniture. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”
Cranston responded to the suggestion. He followed Edkins up the stairs. They reached an isolated room and entered the little apartment which Edkins called his den.
The place was not tidy, but it appeared comfortable. Edkins motioned Cranston to a large armchair.
“I understand you have invested in a new X-ray invention,” said Edkins. “I was talking with your broker, Rutledge Mann. A good chap, Mann.”
“I have made no investment,” returned Cranston. “I merely hold an option for a part interest in the device, pending its promotion. I did not care to finance it entirely upon my own.”
“So Mann informed me,” remarked Edkins, chewing the end of his cigar. “Have you seen the device, Mr. Cranston? Do you know exactly what it will accomplish?”
“No,” replied the calm-faced visitor. “The terms of my option are entirely dependent upon my final satisfaction. I merely took Mann’s word for it that the invention has reached a satisfactory stage of development.”
Holbrook Edkins made no immediate reply. Cigar smoke was becoming thick in the little room. Edkins coughed, walked over to the fireplace, and drew back the screen. He threw the half-consumed perfecto into the pile of ashes. He opened a box that lay upon a table and produced a cigarette.
“If you prefer these,” he remarked, “help yourself. I occasionally find cigar smoke too heavy.”
“Does my smoke annoy you?” questioned Cranston.
“Not at all; not at all,” assured Edkins. “There are other cigars if you want them. Or cigarettes, as you prefer. Regarding the X-ray, Mr. Cranston, I am anxious to learn more.”
“You are familiar with X-ray developments?”
Cranston’s question was a direct one. It came just as Edkins was lighting his cigarette at an electric lighter. Edkins looked sharply toward his guest. He caught the steady expression of Cranston’s eyes. He hesitated on the point of saying, “No.”
“I am somewhat familiar with electrical appliances,” declared Edkins. “In fact, I have financed the development of certain successful inventions. On a moderate scale, you understand.”
“Hence you are interested in a larger proposition.”
“Exactly. I would like to be sure of its merits, however.”
“I hold the same opinion,” announced Cranston quietly. “That is why I wanted this discussion with you. I am anxious to consider the proposition from the investor’s angle. So I am particularly desirous of learning whether or not there are other X-ray devices in the course of development.”
Edkins puffed his cigarette thoughtfully. There had been no question in Cranston’s tone, but those steady, penetrating eyes were demanding in their glance. Edkins had finished no more than half of his cigarette; nevertheless, he went to the fireplace, pulled back the screen, and nervously tossed the butt into the ashes. Immediately afterward, he took another cigarette from the box and lighted it.
ALL the while, Cranston remained silent. The visitor was evidently awaiting some comment from Edkins.
The host was considering what he should say. At length, he spoke cautiously.
“I understand your apprehensions,” he said. “It would be unwise to invest in some device that might be quickly superseded. That has been my problem for several months.”
“Regarding X-ray devices?”
Cranston’s question was calmly interposed yet its tone was now apparent. Holbrook Edkins realized that he had said exactly what be had not intended to discuss so soon. He had intimated that he had already been considering the possibilities of an X-ray device.
“Not exactly,” he said, hoping to correct the error. “I have been concerned more with a screening device — a contrivance to counteract the injurious effects of X-rays of high intensity.”
“Necessary, I suppose,” rejoined Cranston, “with improved X-rays of greater power than those now used.”
“Yes.” Holbrook Edkins paused suddenly. He threw his second cigarette into the fireplace. He turned to meet Cranston’s steady gaze. He could not tell whether or not those eyes were challenging.
Edkins recalled that he had mentioned negotiations with a promoter during his conversation with Rutledge Mann. Had Mann passed that fact to Cranston? Whatever the case, Edkins had just admitted an interest in pending X-ray developments. He realized that Cranston, though silent in his inquiries, was gradually forcing him to bring up the subject.
“I have had dealings,” asserted Edkins, suddenly, “with a promoter whose name I have promised not to reveal. He has shown me models of X-ray machines which are already developed. He represents the inventor. I have made several substantial cash advances.”