From his pocket, Arnaud took a wallet. He extracted a wad of bills. It was not a thick packet, but as the man laid each bill aside in turn, the value of the fund became apparent. The first bill in Henry Arnaud's bank roll was a gold certificate of ten-thousand-dollar denomination!
Then came a second; and a third. Five thousand-dollar bills followed, then a dozen intermingled hundreds and fifties.
Arnaud drew a few of the latter from the mass, and replaced the rest in his wallet. He counted the amount that he had retained — five hundred and fifty dollars in all. He thrust these bills in his vest pocket, as one would deal with small change.
Now, he brought forth the modest sum that he had obtained at the bank. He counted this money carefully: a fifty, a twenty, two tens, a five, and five ones.
After making a note of the serial numbers, he rolled the crisp notes, and slipped them in another pocket of his vest.
Again, Henry Arnaud's eyes were peering from the window. He was engrossed in thought, and as he stared, a soft laugh echoed from his lips. It was a strange, weird laugh.
Arnaud's left hand was resting on the window sill. Upon a finger glimmered an ever-changing gem — a translucent stone of fading and renewing hues. It was a rare girasol — unmatched in all the world. Had Deacon heard that laugh; had he been here to note that sparkling, mysterious jewel, his suspicions would have been justified. He would have known with certainty that Henry Arnaud was indeed one whose presence he might well fear.
For Henry Arnaud was The Shadow!
Chapter XII — The Shadow Hears
The Middletown Trust Company had proven its stability. In recognition of that fact, a grand testimonial dinner was in progress at the Darthmore Hotel.
Listed as the guests of honor were David Traver and Harvey Bronlon. These two worthies were seated at the head table. All during the banquet, Judge, smiling and confident; had been talking to Bronlon, whose heavy, overbearing countenance had shown responsiveness.
Even now, as the speaker was introducing Judge as David Traver, Harvey Bronlon was nodding in commendation of something that Judge had said.
Standing, Judge smiled benignly as those present rose to their feet and joined in a tumultuous outburst of applause.
When the wave of enthusiasm had ended, the throng sat down. Judge, in a quiet, easy voice, began his speech.
As he warmed to his topic, there was breathless interest. Judge was swaying this crowd, bending all before him. Nods and murmurs of agreement greeted his statements.
"And now, gentlemen," he said in conclusion, "I am going to mention two incidents that may remain with you as a lasting impression. This morning, a certain gentleman" — Judge paused and glanced toward Bronlon — "entered my office and stated that he was ready to deposit drafts on New York banks to the amount of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Here applause commenced. Hand-clapping burst forth everywhere. Judge, still smiling, waved his hand toward Bronlon, and the uproar increased. At last it ended as Judge raised his hand for silence.
"Then," said Judge, "the same gentleman told me that he had changed his plans about the distribution of a bonus to his employees. He said that he had intended to deliver the bonus within the next few weeks. But he had now decided to wait for another month, at least, so that he might draw the money from an outside source, and thereby keep as much money in Middletown as possible." Applause began again, but subsided instantly, as Judge raised his hand for silence.
"Perhaps," said the gray-haired man, "you would be interested to know what I replied to — Mr. Bronlon. I said exactly this: 'The Middletown Trust Company is an institution that serves Middletown. It has gained the confidence of the citizens, and it will always retain that confidence. Our resources are such, Mr. Bronlon, that I would suggest you pay the bonus now. Pay it to people who live in Middletown, with money drawn from the one bank in Middletown.'"
A marked stillness hung over the room, while Judge waited for the effect of his words to be fully impressed upon the listeners.
"As a result," Judge declared, "I am pleased to say that tomorrow, the bonus money goes out with Mr. Bronlon's pay roll. It is a yearly bonus, gentlemen.
"Let me add that, should Mr. Bronlon care to draw ten times the amount of that bonus money, the Middletown Trust Company would be pleased to supply him with it!"
The diners were on their feet, shouting their approval. Judge stood, acknowledging the storm of praise. Cries came for Bronlon.
The manufacturer rose to his feet. New applause burst forth, and when Bronlon extended his hand for Judge to grasp, the wild enthusiasts leaped upon their chairs in mad approval. It was half an hour afterward when Judge finally managed to shake himself free of the last admirer. He made the plea that he was tired; that he was staying at the hotel for the night. He reached the lobby, and started toward the elevator.
On the way, he encountered one more man. Howard Best, the undertaker, shook hands with David Traver, president of the Middletown Trust Company. Deacon and Judge, they called themselves, on occasion — but not during this public exchange of greetings.
As Judge entered the elevator, he slipped his hand in his pocket — the same right hand that had just been clasped by Deacon. Before the door of the elevator closed, some one stepped into view from an obscure corner of the lobby, and entered the car also. It was Henry Arnaud.
Judge stepped off at the fourth floor. Henry Arnaud continued upward. He left the elevator and went to his room. There he opened a suitcase; then extinguished the light.
The dim glow from the street lights below was not sufficient to reveal his form. Henry Arnaud was invisible in the darkness; and, singularly enough, there was no audible token of his presence except a faint swish that lasted for only a few seconds.
The door of the room opened noiselessly. The light from the hall was blotted out. Then the door closed. Blackness alone remained. Henry Arnaud had become The Shadow.
On the fourth floor, Judge had entered a room alone. But he had scarcely closed the door before other men appeared to join him.
Major, Butcher, and Ferret had been waiting there. They began a low and eager discussion. There was no chance of being overheard, for this room was the center of a suite, and Judge had entered it through a short inner hall.
"Great work, Judge!" congratulated Major. "Great work! You pulled it over swell!"
"I knew I would get them from the start," responded Judge. "I saw the way you fellows were taking it. How did you like that handshake with Bronlon at the finish?"
"A knock-out," said Ferret.
"The best part, Judge," said Butcher, "was the way you worded it about Bronlon and his bank drafts. If you should be questioned about that, you can go back to your statement. Bronlon offered to put in the money — that's all you said."
"Of course," declared Judge. "You know, this bonus proposition has been the one thing we've had to worry about. The state examiner has been letting us alone because we were doing so well.
"He was there tonight — I talked with him afterward — and he took the bait better than any of them. He left town after the banquet. Convinced and satisfied."
"So we're all set now!" Ferret exulted.
"The bonus," declared Judge, "will account for just about all that we can take. There will be profits after this — but we are going to be working in a circle. It's going to be a question now of easing ourselves out of the picture."
"How will you work it, Judge?" asked Butcher.
"I think," said Judge, "that it will not be long before David Traver will receive an offer to assume the presidency of a prominent Eastern bank. So attractive an offer, that he will be forced to resign — much against his will — the position which he holds here in Middletown."