The seer blinked his eyes, and became cognizant of those about him. He looked toward Thomas Telford.
"You have heard the messages of the spirits," he said. "Your son will be restored to you."
Thomas Telford was stepping forward to pour out his thanks, but Rajah Brahman announced that the brief seance was at an end. He was ready to confer with those who waited in the reception room. First on the list was Maude Garwood. When she was ushered, with Dick Terry, into the presence of the rajah, they found the man from India seated on his throne, alone in the room.
Maude Garwood began an immediate plea. She had come to New York, she said, to seek spirit communication with her dead husband. So far, her wish had not been granted. Rajah Brahman turned to Dick Terry, who was looking on with a disdainful air.
"This," said the rajah firmly, "is your doing. Your aunt has seen the light. She seeks as a believer. She has already received a message from her beloved husband. It is you who, by your disbelief, make it impossible for her to see his spirit."
Dick curbed a hot retort.
"So long as you persist," declared Rajah Brahman, "there can be no success. Unless you can believe, it would be wise for you not to visit the seance room."
"Do you hear that?" demanded Dick, ignoring the seer and speaking directly to his aunt.
"Rajah Brahman speaks the truth," declared Mrs. Garwood.
"Then I'm not wanted here?" quizzed Dick.
"You have heard the reply," remarked Rajah Brahman serenely. "You are welcome if you choose to believe. You are not welcome if you do not believe."
For a moment, Dick gazed threateningly at the man on the throne. Then he spoke to Mrs. Garwood.
"Do you agree with that?" he asked.
The woman nodded solemnly. Without another word, Dick turned on his heel and left the sanctum. He reached the reception room. There, he cooled his heels while Imam Singh was ushering out some others, among them Thomas Telford.
Dick saw the elderly man shake hands with Benjamin Castelle, and he heard Telford mention that he had an appointment with the rajah for the next evening. Then, Imam Singh spied Dick, and brought him his hat.
Going through the hallway, Dick felt his anger subsiding. After all, he owed a duty to his aunt, no matter how foolish she might be. He decided to wait in the downstairs lobby until she arrived. When he reached the elevator, he encountered a wise-faced man who was waiting there alone. The man grinned knowingly. Dick responded with a grunt.
He did not know that the waiting man was there by design. It was Martin Slade, but Dick Terry had never seen him before.
While they were waiting, Slade made a joking remark that aroused Dick's immediate interest.
"Been up to look over the spook camp?" questioned Slade pleasantly.
"Yes," replied Dick.
"I haven't been there yet," said Slade. "I hear it's a great racket."
"It is," responded Dick, glad to discover some one who felt the way he did. "It's a fraud, clear through. I'll never go back to the place again."
"I'm glad to see somebody that's wise," declared Slade, in a careless tone. "I know plenty about the man that's running it. I could get a lot on him, if I had a mind to."
The suggestion was all that Dick needed. He tried to pump his companion, as they rode down in the elevator together. In the lobby, Slade drew Dick aside.
"Say," he said. "Maybe you know somethings I don't know. But there's one fellow — I know him well — who has the real goods on this crooked rajah. If we could get hold of him, he'd tell us plenty. He used to work in the racket."
"Where is he?" questioned Dick.
"He hangs out in a rowdy joint," said Slade. "He took me there once, and spilled some stuff about the medium upstairs. I'd like to see him again. Want to go along with me, and look him up?"
Dick expressed his willingness.
"My car's out on the street," declared Slade. "Come along — I'll take you to meet this fellow." Dick and his new-found friend left the lobby together. Dick Terry was entering the trap.
Martin Slade was drawing the net about him.
Both men were intent upon their different purposes. They did not glance about the empty lobby as they passed through the revolving door.
Hence Martin Slade, despite his watchfulness, failed to see a tall form in black emerge from the corner of the lobby and follow them into the street.
The Shadow was on the trail!
Chapter XIV — The Trap Closes
Martin Slade listened to Dick Terry's discourse as they rolled along through darkened streets. Dick, elated at having discovered a man who could give the inside story of Rajah Brahman, was telling Slade about Maude Garwood's weakness for matters psychic.
Slade, in turn, was agreeing cordially with everything that Dick had to say.
"It's a terrible racket," declared Slade. "Several times I've wanted to tell the police about it, but I didn't like to start trouble alone."
"I'm willing to," responded Dick.
"Good," said Slade. "I'll back you up. But we'd better see this other fellow first. He may prove useful." Slade parked his car in an obscure street. Dick, keen in his consideration of Rajah Brahman, had no idea where this place was located. He followed Slade through a narrow alley and up a steep flight of stairs. They entered a crudely furnished restaurant, which was provided with a rickety bar at one end of the room. A heavy-set, black-haired man was standing behind the bar. Other men were seated at tables. Slade pointed to a door at the far side of the room.
"There's another room over there," he said. "Let's go in there. We'll be alone." Dick acquiesced, and followed his companion into a poorly furnished place that had no windows. The bartender appeared. Slade ordered two bottles of beer. When the beer arrived, Dick paid no attention to it. He was anxious to discuss details with Martin Slade.
"Who is this fellow you were talking about?" he asked.
"He comes here every night," said Slade. "Wait a while. We'll see him. Meanwhile, let's get a line on the phony rajah — whatever we know already."
"Look at this," said Dick, pulling an object from his pocket. It was the watch that he had found after the first seance.
"What is it?" asked Slade curiously.
"Something that came from the rajah's seance room," declared Dick. "One of his spook machines. Look!"
He blew into the hollow stem of the watch. The watch sprang forward from a telescopic tube, and a bulging form came from it.
Dick let the shape fall and made the tube collapse. He handed the device to Martin Slade, who examined it closely.
"Say!" he exclaimed. "If we could get a few more contraptions like this one, we'd have the goods on that faker. This gives me an idea.
"I have an apartment on the same floor as Rajah Brahman. That's how I began to get interested — seeing so many people travel in and out. Suppose you stay up there, with me.
"We could watch at close range, and maybe start something that would queer the racket altogether." Slade leaned his elbow on the table and spoke in a confidential tone that was completely deceiving to Dick.
"You see," he said, "I'm a private investigator for certain concerns. Checking up on men that they thought were pulling something crooked. That's how I happened to run into this fellow they call Reds — his last name slips my mind.
"I just knew him by sight, that was about all, until one time I spotted him up at my apartment house.
"I thought he was playing some phony game, and might be on my trail. So I put it up to him when I saw him down here. He told me he was up at the Callao Hotel seeing Rajah Brahman.