Satisfaction governed Slade's manner as he reached the door of Rajah Brahman's apartment. Stealth was unnecessary in his visits here. Thomas Telford had brought his son to meet the famous rajah. In fact, to-night, Slade had mentioned to the old man that he was coming to express his gratitude to Rajah Brahman.
The solemn face of Imam Singh greeted the visitor. Slade was ushered into Rajah Brahman's inner sanctum. He felt a trifle uneasy as he crossed the anteroom.
Even though he knew this to be a den of fakery, the silence troubled Martin Slade. He felt as he had felt that night at Telford's, when he had fancied that invisible eyes were watching him from the darkness. Shaking off his nervousness, Slade pushed the thick curtain aside and entered the sanctum. The room was in darkness. Only the glow of Rajah Brahman's cigarette betrayed the presence of a living being.
"Hello, Bert," said Slade in a low voice.
"Hello, Slade," came the rajah's reply.
Another voice spoke quietly from the darkness.
"Good evening, James Telford," it said.
"The chief!" exclaimed Slade. "I didn't know you would be here tonight."
"There is a reason," declared the voice in the darkness. "We shall discuss that later. First, let us hear what you have to say. Then Bert can tell you what is on our minds."
"Everything is O.K. with the old boy," declared Slade. "He has fallen straight from the start. I'm so used to being called Jim, that it seems like my real name, now.
"When I blew in with that phony snapshot, the game was in the bag. Every now and then I drop some wise remark about the past. It's getting stronger and stronger every day. The old boy is taking everything for granted."
"Where is he now?" asked Rajah Brahman.
"He had to take a run down to Baltimore overnight," continued Slade. "Some trifling business with an old friend down there.
"He wanted me to go along, but I begged off. I didn't know how much the other bird might know about the past of young James Telford. Besides that, I want a chance to go through that safe while the old man's away."
"Good idea," said Rajah Brahman.
"The old man showed me his will," declared Slade, "and it's all in my favor. I didn't have a chance to read it in detail. I want to know how much he's worth. I will know to-morrow night."
"The old man will be back then?"
"Will he? You're right he will," Slade replied. "You don't think he would miss that swell seance you have scheduled, do you? He wants me to come with him. If he's late coming back from Baltimore, he'll phone me when he arrives in New York. So that's all set.
"Telford will show up, and I may be on hand as one of the fish. I'm going to get out of it if I can on account of some of the people who will be here."
"That's right," agreed the rajah, "but as James Telford, you will be O.K. if you come with the old man. It doesn't matter, though, because Mrs. Garwood is the one I'm working on to-morrow night."
"She believes everything, now?"
"Absolutely. Just waiting for a materialization of her dear husband. She's bringing a certified check for fifty thousand dollars as an endowment to my shrine in India. I happened to mention that Mrs. Furzeman was doing that, and Mrs. Garwood fell for the idea, too.
"There's just one condition — that her husband appears and tells her it is all right. He'll be here — don't worry. Tony knows his stuff, and he has the part down to perfection."
"Has she said anything about Terry?" Slade wanted to know.
"No. She's through with him. She received that letter you mailed from Washington. That stunt was A-1, Slade. It clinched the whole affair.
"If Nephew Terry didn't think enough about her to stay in New York a while, his opinion doesn't amount to anything, in her estimation!"
"And what about Dykeman?" asked Slade.
"He's fallen for the greatest stall of all," laughed the seer. "Ever since the spook of his daughter went away with those jewels, he's had an idea that money would count for something on the astral plane, too.
"He's out to supply capital to the spirit world. He's likely to sink close to half a million before he gets away from New York — in big installments, too."
"How about Coronado Copper?" questioned Slade.
"Doing nicely," interposed the quiet voice of the chief. "But if your new father begins to talk about buying stocks, shift to Mutual Industries. That's the next buy on the list. Bert is going to send word to the different cities very shortly."
There was a short silence; then the quiet voice of the man behind the spook racket spoke in a deliberate tone.
"Tell Slade about the trouble in Chicago," were the words.
"Trouble in Chicago?" questioned Slade.
"Yes," said Rajah Brahman. "Joe Cardona is out there."
"Cardona! How did he get into it?"
"We don't know. He dropped into one of Madame Plunket's seances, a few days ago. He's been coming every night since.
"She spotted him for a dick, and at last she got him placed. Sent a letter here to me. She's worried, because she was working strong in Cincinnati. She wants to know what to do about it."
"When is her next seance?"
"To-night — and she thinks Cardona will be there."
"Hm-m-m. What do you think about it, Bert?"
"I think it's the Little Flower angle, Slade," said Rajah Brahman seriously. "We've been working it too strong. It was a great racket, because it linked up one place with another, so that the visiting suckers would feel at home.
"But Jacques was using Little Flower — and that means Cardona may have heard about it. If he's traveling the whole circuit, he's liable to strike a clue that will bring him back to New York."
"To find Rajah Brahman."
"Yes. If we could get him out of the way for a couple of weeks — even for one week — I'd have time to clean up here. Then off for the tall timber of the Himalayas. The old stuff; not a trace behind me."
"It's pretty dangerous business monkeying with Cardona," began Slade.
"Here in New York, yes," interposed Rajah Brahman. "Out in Chicago, no. You know some mobsters out there, Slade. You can fix it like you did for Dick Terry.
"The stunt is to make Cardona talk. If he knows nothing, they can let him get away. If he knows a lot — curtains for him!"
"It might have a bad come-back—"
"Not on us. Cardona's working alone. He hasn't reached the end of the trail yet. What would it cost to fix it?"
"Five grand. Through Snooks Milligan."
"What do you say, chief?" asked the rajah.
"Go ahead," declared the quiet voice.
"All right," said Rajah Brahman. "You make the call, Slade. They can watch for him at Plunket's. It's only a little after eight, now. That's about seven in Chicago. Madame Plunket usually starts her seance at eight—"
His voice broke off suddenly. Rising in the dark, Rajah Brahman strode rapidly across the room and threw aside the curtain into the anteroom. He stood there, staring.
The others could see his form in the dim light that came from the anteroom. Rajah Brahman was attired in a dressing gown. In his hand he held a revolver.
"Tony," he called.
The white-clad form of Imam Singh appeared from the outer door.
"Have a gat ready," ordered Rajah Brahman. "Stay by the front door of the apartment. I've got a hunch that someone is around this place. I'm going to find out!"
As Tony departed, Rajah Brahman dropped the curtain and stepped back into the sanctum.
"I saw the curtain move," he explained quickly. "Come on — we'll make a round-up. You stay here, chief. Slade, you cut in by the seance room, I'll go through the anteroom."
Rajah Brahman's theory was incorrect. As he stood with his back toward the anteroom, a tall form clad in black emerged from beside the curtain, and moved through another entrance. It did not take the path toward the outer door where Imam Singh was on guard. Instead, it was headed directly toward the reception room. Reaching that apartment, it turned toward the seance room — the very place where Rajah Brahman intended to make search!