“Ah! Mr. Faraday!” exclaimed Venturi.
Roberts Faraday had arisen. He extended the hand to the Italian; then looked questioningly toward Angelo.
“My attendant, Mr. Faraday,” explained Venturi. “Angelo is always with me. It is quite all right for him to be here.”
Venturi spoke in careful, musical English, choosing his words with much thought. Angelo stood by, offering no comment. It was obvious that the attendant knew very little of the language which his master was using.
“You may go, Crayle,” said Faraday brusquely.
The house man bowed and went away. Faraday listened intently until he heard the footsteps reach the end of the hall. He continued to listen; at last the throb of a motor came from outside the house, barely audible to the millionaire’s ears. Faraday motioned Venturi and Angelo to be seated. He took his own place behind the desk.
“You came here by taxicab?” questioned the millionaire.
“From the station, yes,” responded Venturi.
“Good,” commented Faraday. “We are entirely alone. My servants have gone for the night. I thought it best — in view of our private negotiations. I can summon a cab when you are ready to leave.”
The millionaire reached into his pocket and produced his cigarette case. He held it open toward Venturi and Angelo; both shook their heads. Faraday withdrew a cigarette for himself, and lighted it. Then, calmly to Venturi:
“You have your credentials?” The Italian bowed.
“I have,” he said. “They are here, sir.”
Venturi brought the papers from his pocket. Roberts Faraday examined them. Signed by Aristide Ponjeau, these documents were similar to the ones which Crix, as Baron von Tollsburg, had used to trick Winston Collisten and Sturgis Bosworth into giving him their millions.
The second sheet, however, bore the signature of Victor Venturi, instead of Hugo von Tollsburg. Roberts Faraday did not have time to ask for a verification of the indelible signature. Victor Venturi produced a pen and sheet of paper. Leaning upon the desk, he wrote his name. Faraday compared it carefully with the signature on the document.
“You understand, of course,” explained Venturi, “that my mission here is purely one of warning. It is not my province to make a request for money. We can discuss that matter afterward. It is because of unexpected occurrences that I have come to you—”
Roberts Faraday waved his hand in an impatient gesture. He was still comparing the signatures. His sharp eye did not let a single detail slip. Venturi stood silent until the inspection was completed. Quietly, Faraday gave the documents back to the Italian.
“The cablegram from Monsieur Ponjeau warned me,” Faraday explained. “That was sufficient. It made me decide to use the utmost caution. I am an expert on signatures, Mr. Venturi. Yours has passed a most critical test.
“I am satisfied. You are an emissary from Aristide Ponjeau. Be seated, sir, be seated. I must hear your story. I realize that it is most important.”
Victor Venturi resumed his chair. With back to the door the Italian faced the millionaire. The two men were intent; Angelo was watching them with all attention. Facts were to be revealed — and behind the partly opened door of the adjoining room keen enemies were listening.
Victor Venturi and Roberts Faraday were conferring within earshot of the evil men who served the archvillain, Crix! Twelve armed men were waiting; and only one, Cliff Marsland, was there in The Shadow’s service!
CHAPTER XIX
VENTURI EXPLAINS
“I SHALL start from the beginning, Mr. Faraday,” declared Victor Venturi, in a methodical tone. “It is wise that I should do so. Matters have arisen that make clear understanding highly important. You — yes, you as well as I — are confronted by grave danger.
“This danger, Mr. Faraday, involves the future of Aristide Ponjeau’s great dream — the World Court of Industry. Millions are at stake, my friend, and it is our duty to save them.”
“I divined as much,” interposed Faraday. “The cable from Ponjeau told me that danger lay ahead.”
“One year ago,” continued Venturi, “Monsieur Ponjeau, realizing that international cooperation would be necessary to world-wide prosperity, came to this country and visited ten men of great wealth. Each of those men promised to contribute two million dollars to the cause. The names of those men were not known to one another.
“The original intention of Monsieur Ponjeau was to visit the United States himself and obtain the money. He later decided to send me as his emissary. I came to New York. Here, I was to receive the list of millionaires; to visit each by appointment; to receive the funds from them.
“However, Monsieur Ponjeau again changed plans, almost at the last moment. He informed me that he had another emissary, a man in whom he had the utmost trust. He stated that this man was able to enter the United States unseen; on that account, it would be preferable for him to make the collections. Monsieur Ponjeau feared that some enemies might have divined his plan.
“A new mission was intrusted to me. I was to visit these millionaires after the collecting emissary had called. I did not learn the names; I was to receive them one by one after each had been visited. The first name was sent to me. I was amazed when I learned it. Winston Collister. That man had been murdered in his home a few days before!
“I informed Monsieur Ponjeau that something must have gone wrong. He sent me the name of the next man on the list. Sturgis Bosworth. I hurried to the man’s home. The fiend was there before me! Sturgis Bosworth was dead; I barely escaped with my life, for the fiend had placed assassins there to kill me!
“Since then, Mr. Faraday, I have been in hiding. I notified Monsieur Ponjeau. He sent me your name. He arranged an appointment before our enemy could reach you. This is Thursday; the fiend will not come here until to-morrow.”
Roberts Faraday nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he said, “that is the time set for the appointment. I have been preparing for his visit. You are twenty-four hours ahead, Signor Venturi. But you come here merely to forestall — not to solve — the difficult riddle that confronts us.”
“I have come to confer.”
“Exactly. But how does that help us? Do you know the name of the criminal who has caused this trouble?”
Venturi shook his head.
“Then,” declared Faraday, “four millions of dollars have already been lost beyond recovery.”
“No!” exclaimed Venturi. “I cannot believe that those funds are irretrievable. If we can intercept our enemy to-morrow night — perhaps we can turn the tables upon him, Mr. Faraday!”
It was Faraday now who shook his head.
“From what you say, Signor Venturi,” he remarked, “this enemy knows that you are upon his trail. You encountered him at Sturgis Bosworth’s. You managed to escape his toils. He will be a thousand times more wary, to-morrow night—”
“Yes,” interrupted Venturi, “but you will not give him the millions. There must be no money here. We must lay a clever snare. You understand?”
“He will suspect a snare,” stated Faraday. “How do you know, Signor Venturi, that he will come here at all? Perhaps he will eliminate me from the list—”
“Ah, no! He does not dare! He must keep each appointment; otherwise some waiting man might communicate with Monsieur Aristide Ponjeau. You see? I am trying to consider it from the enemy’s view—”
“He may be satisfied with the four million that he has already taken.”
“Let us hope so,” stated Venturi quietly. “Then the sixteen millions will still be ours. Ah, Mr. Faraday, I have thought long upon this. Our enemy cannot afford to miss a single link in the chain. To-morrow night will be the crisis. If our enemy fails to appear at this house, it will be a sign of his weakness — an admission of defeat. We can charge four millions as a loss, and I can arrange to collect the rest of the contributions.