Some one announced that the exhibit would be closed until later in the evening. Silk joined the persons who were filing into the outer room. He paused there, and shrewdly watched a detective close and lock the door.
An urging voice impelled the lingerers out through the tier of three rooms. Silk, among the last to go, noted the detective lock the door of the third room also.
That was exactly what Silk Elverton had expected. He had noted the procedure on the night before.
Sauntering on through the tier, he reached the corridor and joined a group of prosperous-looking men who were engaged in conversation.
“Ah! Mr. Elverton!” exclaimed one man. “Have you met Mr. Kendall?”
“Not as yet,” replied Silk.
The introduction was made. Silk found himself shaking hands with a big, bluff man whose air was one of importance, and whose face was stern and unyielding.
SILK learned that this was Foulkrod Kendall, whose silverware factory in New Avalon was one of the largest and most substantial in the United States. Kendall, in turn, was informed that Ronald Elverton was the special representative of Highby-Tyson, Limited, a famous firm in London.
“Glad to meet you, Elverton,” announced Kendall, in a pompous tone. “it’s time that your concern took notice of just what we Americans are doing.”
“I am the first British delegate to this convention,” admitted Elverton. “It has been a remarkable experience. It has, indeed. Really, I shall make every effort to be present at your next annual function.”
Foulkrod Kendall, now that the introduction was ended, resumed a discussion that had been temporarily dropped. He faced one of his companions with a challenging air, and put a blunt question.
“Just what was it you were asking about Kendallware?”
“I was saying, Mr. Kendall,” the man returned, “that the Sterling mark on silver is essential to the discriminating purchaser. Kendallware does not bear it—”
“It bears the name of Kendall,” came the stern interruption.
“An excellent name,” admitted the disputant. “But you must admit that unless you have the Sterling standard, it is inferior. If your ware is of Sterling quality, why not mark it so—”
“You have seen my exhibit,” interposed Kendall. “You have noted the weight, the quality of my solid silver. That should convince you that it is Sterling.”
“Yes, Mr. Kendall; but you are selling Kendallware at a remarkably low figure for Sterling silver. I cannot see where a profit is really possible.”
“Therefore, you call for the Sterling mark.”
“Exactly.”
“Thank you for the suggestion. It will appear upon Kendallware in the future.”
“And the price will be the same?”
“The same.”
Doubting headshakes came from men in the group. Kendall glowered. He seemed to note a challenge that was not voiced. He demanded the answer.
“I hope,” he remarked coldly, “that no one will suggest that my alloy is not of Sterling quality. Its weight; its ring; those should convince you. Remember, gentlemen, the silver market is declining. I buy large quantities of metal.”
“You can’t sell Sterling silver at that price, Mr. Kendall,” said one man abruptly. “I should like to see an actual test of Kendallware’s silver content.”
“I can give it,” declared Kendall.
“Perhaps,” was the retort, “but I can assure you that if I conducted the test, I would purchase Kendallware without your knowledge — and would not use the articles which your factory supplied for test purposes.”
Kendall clenched his fists. Then, with an imperious look, be shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the crowd. Men exchanged glances; then the group broke up. Only Silk Elverton remained.
He approached Kendall and spoke affably.
“I say,” he remarked. “This is interesting — quite. I have heard much of the merits of Kendallware. It strikes me that those chaps are a bit put out because you have stolen the march on them.”
“That’s just it,” growled Kendall. His glare faded as he surveyed this one supporter. “It must annoy you, Mr. Elverton, to see such stupidity here in New York. These fellows have reached the point where they think that competition no longer exists in the silverware market. I’ll show them! Sterling silver — Kendallware — for two thirds the prices they ask! That’s my answer, sir!”
“Remarkable,” praised Elverton. “Highby-Tyson will be greatly interested when I tell them of this. My congratulations, Mr. Kendall. I must depart. I hope to see you later in the evening.”
Kendall watched Elverton as he strolled away. A smile appeared upon the silverware manufacturer’s face.
Kendall did not see the smile in which Silk was indulging. As he walked along, the smooth crook muttered to himself.
“Say,” he mumbled, “that big-money boy has got something. I’ll bet it would be sweet if I could spring an idea on him. But I—”
Silk shrugged his shoulders slightly and kept on. He had other and more important matters on his mind tonight. No use of considering elusive possibilities when real ones lay very close at hand.
Silk passed the closed entrance to the ballroom. He sauntered down the farther corridor, and paused to eject his cigarette from the holder.
SILK was at the open door of an empty room which lay on the side of the ballroom opposite the exhibit tier. This spot was to be the beginning of his work.
He looked around and saw that no one was noticing him. Foulkrod Kendall was still in sight, but the big man was talking to another person who had approached him.
Easily, Silk edged behind the cover of a potted palm. Then, with quick, stealthy tread, he entered the empty room. On tiptoe he moved to the door that led into the ballroom. It was locked.
Silk smiled. From beneath his immaculate white vest, he drew a kit of small tools. He started on the lock. It opened under persuasion.
Cautiously, Silk stepped into the ballroom. He peered past the edge of the door; he saw no one in the corridor. The palm partially hid the opening through which he had gone.
Softly, Silk closed the door and stood alone in the ballroom. The place was dim, lighted only by a dull glow that came through corridor transoms. Silk smiled as he stole across the room.
The smile would have faded had the crook known what was taking place in the room which he had left. Scarcely had the door closed before some one moved beyond the palm tree in the corridor. A man stepped into the dim light of the empty room, and followed the course which Silk had taken.
The pursuer waited at the side door to the ballroom. He was allowing time for Silk Elverton to proceed further on his quest. While he was waiting, the man kept looking back toward the corridor, and the light that came from there revealed his features.
The man who was trailing Silk Elverton was Foulkrod Kendall, the millionaire tableware manufacturer!
CHAPTER IV
CROOK MEETS CROOK
SILK ELVERTON made a careful study of the ballroom. He knew the place from previous observation. He wanted to be sure of it again.
The main opening was at the front. All along the sides were locked doors which went into side rooms. At the far end was a stage with lowered curtain.
There were two alcoves, one on each side of the stage. These had windows, but Silk had abandoned them as a mode of entry. Those windows opened on sheer walls. There were small balconies, but nothing beneath — not even windows — for two floors down.
Behind the stage, however, was a stairway that led to the floor below. The ballroom was on the twenty-second; hence the bottom of the stairway ended on the twenty-first, where Duffy Bagland and his henchmen were due to assemble.