He dropped the tasseled cord as Imam Singh approached. The servant drew the cord to reveal the bare cabinet. He drew the contrivance away to the side of the room.
The sitters knew that the seance was ended. Some obeyed the gestures of Imam Singh, who motioned them toward the reception room. Others, a trifle more bold, approached the rajah's throne. All had been impressed by the amazing seance — particularly the ones who had seen spirits which they recognized.
Dick Terry and his aunt were close by when Benjamin Castelle was speaking to Rajah Brahman.
"A wonderful demonstration," Castelle was saying. "I am a skeptic, you know, but seances such as this will make me a believer. This gentleman" — he indicated Thomas Telford, standing near — "told me that he was anxious to speak to you. He is new in psychic research—"
Rajah Brahman was looking toward Telford. He saw a tall, elderly gentleman, whose face was mild and whose eyes were half shut. He motioned to the man to approach. With one hand on Telford's shoulder, the seer spoke in a low voice.
"I saw a spirit form near you tonight," he said. "I know that there is a message for you — a message that concerns you gravely. Have faith. Perhaps, at my next seance, I can prevail upon that spirit to speak.
"Rome was not built in a day. We must not hope to commune with the spirits too rapidly. But soon — I promise you — soon."
The mystic sat upright on his throne, and folded his arms. Those who understood, knew that he was preparing for his hour of contemplation when he sought the advice of his spirit guide. The little group moved away and went to the reception room. Imam Singh closed the door behind them. In the reception room, Maude Garwood was speaking in rapture to her nephew. The two were alone.
"Wasn't it wonderful, Dick?" she asked. "The message from Geoffrey — ah! Perhaps I may see him as that man saw his daughter — that was wonderful, Dick!"
"Yes," grunted Dick, still unconvinced. "Wonderful, the way he passed over fifty thousand dollars' worth of jewelry. This rajah is clever, Aunt Maude— very clever — but he is a faker!" Maude Garwood was protesting as they left the room. Dick Terry was not listening. His hand had gone to his coat pocket — and as they were riding downstairs in the elevator, Dick was wondering about an object that he had discovered there.
When they reached the lobby, Dick went out to find the limousine, which had been forced to park a distance away from the hotel. By the light of a street lamp, he brought the object from his pocket. It was a large gold watch. Dick placed it to his ear. The watch was not running. He stared at the dial, then tried to open the case. He could not budge it.
How had he obtained this timepiece? Dick could give no explanation. Unless it had materialized in his pocket, there was no way of explaining its presence there. Dick pocketed the watch in bewilderment. Then, to his ears, came the slight echo of a startling laugh. Strange, sinister tones that seemed to have no author. Dick glanced about him, startled. There was no one nearby.
The ripples of the laugh died away. The sound was more uncanny than the strange manifestations that had taken place in Rajah Brahman's seance room.
What was the meaning of that laugh? Had some one — a weird phantom of the night — seen him glancing at the mysterious watch? Were there really spooks, that came and went in the darkness?
Dick Terry was bewildered more than before. He felt that he was on the border of the unexplainable. He did not know that he had heard the laugh of The Shadow!
Chapter XI — Rogues Agree
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—"