“Mr. Cranston,” said the lawyer, “this is Mr. Royce. His father was a friend of Hildrew Parchell.”
“Lamont Cranston?” inquired Royce, with interest. “I have heard of you, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“I have heard of Selwood Royce,” returned The Shadow, extending his hand. “The privilege of meeting is a mutual one.” Then, to Wingate: “I see that you have an appointment with Mr. Royce. I am glad to have met you, Mr. Wingate. Let me know if anything turns up regarding the scarabs.”
AS soon as The Shadow had departed, Wingate turned to Royce. The lawyer requested Royce to be seated; then stated that he would return within a few minutes.
Leaving his office, Wingate passed into a hallway, then continued hastily into the living room of the penthouse apartment.
Closing the door behind him, Wingate pounced upon a telephone. He called the lobby of the apartment house and asked for Hastings. Another voice came over the wire. Wingate spoke rapidly.
“A man is coming downstairs, Hastings,” informed the lawyer. “Tall, with distinguished features. Lamont Cranston, a millionaire. Trail him.”
An affirmative response came from the receiver. Wingate hung up and returned to the office to rejoin Royce. The young man had a prompt question.
“What was Cranston doing here?” he inquired. “Something concerning Hildrew Parchell?”
“So he claimed,” returned Wingate, dryly. “He said that he had once tried to buy some scarabs from Hildrew Parchell.”
“I did not know that Parchell was a collector of such curios.”
“Nor did I. But I do know, Royce, that Parchell may have hidden a certain amount of wealth before his death. It might be in jewels — in cash — or in rarities.”
“Such as scarabs?”
“Such objects might be among the hidden wealth. Understand, Royce, I do not say that Hildrew Parchell did bury a large amount of wealth. I say merely that he may have hidden certain valuables or funds. That is why I called your home to ask if you could stop here to see me.”
“In hope that I might furnish some clue?”
“Exactly. Hildrew Parchell was a close friend of your father’s.”
“But my own acquaintance with Hildrew Parchell was decidedly limited. No, I know of no such matter. I had not even suspected the existence of such wealth.”
Wingate was studying the young man steadily. There was a tone of sincerity in Royce’s voice. Wingate terminated the subject.
“Very well,” he decided. “There are others with whom I shall communicate. I doubt, however, that it will lead to tangible results. Probably the funds are imaginary.”
“If they exist,” questioned Royce, suddenly, “would they go to Roger Parchell?”
“The nephew is the only heir.” admitted Wingate. “The will, however, is unusually specific. It declares each item of Hildrew Parchell’s known estate and names Roger Parchell as beneficiary in every case.
“If other possessions are uncovered, they would go to Roger Parchell in absence of other heirs or instructions concerning disposal of such hidden funds. Inasmuch as Roger Parchell is his uncle’s only living relation, it is safe to assume that the wealth would be Roger’s.”
“I should like to meet young Roger Parchell,” observed Royce. “The friendship between my father and his uncle would indicate that a friendship between myself and Roger would be in order.”
“Quite true. I shall arrange the meeting, Royce. Your friendship should prove quite acceptable to Roger Parchell.”
Selwood Royce made his departure. Wingate watched him stroll from the room. The lawyer smiled dryly. He had learned all that he had needed to know from Selwood Royce.
Braddock entered. He announced that Hastings was phoning from downstairs. Wingate hastened through the hallway. He was eager as he made query over the wire. Then the lawyer’s expression became irritable.
“What’s that?” he demanded. “You lost the trail? Incredible, Hastings… I said incredible… No, no. Do not resort to an excuse. It was broad daylight… Do you expect me to believe such folly, Hastings? A man could not have vanished right before your eyes… Here one moment, gone the next — a poor excuse for blundering, Hastings!”
Irritated, Wingate hung up the receiver. He stalked from the living room and reentered his office. He went to a large safe, opened it and brought out a flat box that bore the title: “Documents — Hildrew Parchell.”
Seating himself behind the desk, Wingate unlocked the box and began to go over papers. After a short interval, he paused to fume about the inefficiency that Hastings had displayed. Then the attorney resumed his work. He began to forget about Lamont Cranston’s visit.
ELSEWHERE, other hands were going over papers. The Shadow was in his sanctum. As Lamont Cranston, he had spotted Hastings following him. Artfully, he had given the fellow the slip.
Here in his secret abode, The Shadow was reading a coded message that had come through an investment broker named Rutledge Mann.
A report from Harry Vincent. The agent had reached the town of Chalwood. There, he had learned that Homer Hothan had left the town a few weeks ago. The man was supposed to be in Chicago; but he had left no forwarding address.
A soft laugh came from The Shadow. Deductions were bringing results. The Shadow inscribed a coded note and sealed it in an envelope. The bluish light clicked off. The Shadow had work to do this evening.
His mission, however, lay here in New York. Though Weldon Wingate had partially forgotten Lamont Cranston, The Shadow had not forgotten Weldon Wingate.
CHAPTER V. THE SHADOW CHOOSES
EARLY evening. Weldon Wingate’s penthouse office was dark. The lawyer was in his apartment quarters. Outside the doorway of the office was a small anteroom that opened on the elevators. This room was lighted, but empty.
Past the elevators was a steel door that led to a fire tower. Dull light showed the metal barrier moving. A figure edged through as the door opened. The Shadow had arrived at Wingate’s.
Coming into the anteroom, The Shadow passed a door that led directly into the apartment. He took the second door — the one to the office. It was locked, but that made but little difference to this cloaked intruder. The Shadow picked the lock with prompt and efficient skill.
Entering the darkened office, the cloaked investigator began an inspection with his tiny flashlight. He reached the safe and worked on the combination.
Keen ears listened for falling tumblers while uncanny fingers manipulated the dial. The safe opened.
With his flashlight, The Shadow discovered the box that Wingate had replaced in the safe. The Shadow removed the box and placed it on the desk. He went to a filing cabinet, made a search there and discovered a folio bearing the name of Hildrew Parchell. Moving over to the desk, The Shadow turned on a lamp. He began a study of the documents that he had uncovered.
WELDON WINGATE had spoken truthfully when he had said that Hildrew Parchell’s affairs were lacking in complexity. Actual papers and carbon copies corresponded. The old man’s assets consisted chiefly of cash and securities. Letters and replies showed that his correspondence had been brief and infrequent.
The Shadow discovered Hildrew Parchell’s will. Keenly, he read its terms. The will was a statement of his various assets; all these items of the known estate were bequeathed, separately, to Roger Parchell, the nephew.
In the files, The Shadow discovered brief correspondence between Hildrew Parchell and his nephew.