“I signed a paper for Mr. Hendrix before—”
“Yes, of course. This is simply my record.”
Legira signed the paper. Cody produced a letter that bore the consul's signature and compared both in a
methodical manner. He nodded and looked inquiringly toward Legira.
“Where do you wish the box to go?” he asked.
“I have a car outside,” declared Legira. “I shall attend to it. Thank you, Mr. Cody.”
The men shook hands and the South American led the way through the side door of the bank where
another watchman stared at the short procession.
A sedan was parked on the side street, with a driver at the wheel. Legira opened the rear door.
Francisco and the watchman hoisted the box into the back of the car Legira entered and sat down.
Francisco joined the driver. The watchman went back into the bank.
As he neared the office where Legira had conferred with Cody, the watchman noted that Cody was
telephoning. He heard the conversation.
“Hello—hello—”
Cody's voice seemed excited. Evidently he did not recognize the person who was talking from the other
end. A puzzled expression came over his face.
“This is Mr. Cody calling, from the Baltham Trust Company—”
There was momentary pause. Cody's face turned white.
“You mean—you mean that Mr. Hendrix is dead—killed—”
Cody dropped the telephone. He leaped to his feet and beckoned to the watchman. Without waiting for
the man to enter, Cody dashed through the door of the office.
“Hurry!” he exclaimed. “See if they have gone! We must stop them! Mr. Hendrix has been murdered!”
Both men rushed to the side door of the bank. When they reached the street they found it empty. Legira
and his companions had driven away during the brief interval.
“I should have called him before,” moaned Cody. “I didn't realize that this might have happened. He may
even have been dead long before nine o'clock!”
Cody stood in a daze, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. He was perturbed, despite the fact that he
had followed instructions as they had been given. The only lulling thought in his mind was the fact that,
after all, the transaction had probably been concluded as Hendrix had intended it.
Cody stared along the deserted street, seeking vainly and hopelessly to see some sign of the departed
car.
IN that very car, some blocks away, Legira, leaning forward in the back seat, was speaking to the driver
in a low, tense voice.
“We must hurry, Desmond,” he said. “You made a great mistake in being late to-night—”
“I had to be careful,” growled Desmond, who was at the wheel of the car.
“You told me not to be conspicuous while waiting for you at the corner. A cop ordered me to move
along so I had to. Thought I better give you plenty of time. Then I got caught in a traffic jam. That's why
you had to wait for me.”
“Well, it's all right now,” responded Legira. “Just the same, a man is generally on time when he has a
transaction involving mill—”
The consul stopped abruptly. It was not his policy to reveal any more of his plans than necessary. Frank
Desmond was a useful man to Legira. Much of his usefulness depended upon the fact that he knew very
little of what Legira was doing. Legira was depending on Desmond's help now, chiefly because he
needed an undercover agent whom his enemies could not possibly suspect.
“I am nervous, Desmond,” remarked Legira in a more friendly tone. “You have no idea of the problems
which have confronted me. People up here in New York can go about their affairs in a simple manner.
That is not possible in Santander. I am of Santander and I must do as they do in my country. You
understand?”
“Certainly,” replied Desmond. “Sorry I caused you trouble, Legira. You can depend on me to help you
from now on. Just so long as I get what's coming to me.”
“You will receive full payment tonight,” said Legira. “We shall go to the house immediately,” he added in
a commanding voice. “You are sure that everything is safe out there?”
“Absolutely,” declared Desmond, full of assurance. “I was out there this afternoon. It's the best spot on
Long Island; no one around; no neighbors to bother you.”
“I chose the place long ago,” declared Legira, “and I chose it with a purpose. Since I have conducted all
negotiations through you, Desmond, there is not the slightest possible chance that any one should know
of my connection with the house. I shall not be there long.”
The car was swinging rapidly uptown. Desmond flung a glance over his shoulder. He could see Legira's
face, white and drawn. Desmond chanced a suggestion.
“I am going to stop at my apartment,” he said. “It would be best to make sure that all is well. I can call
Lopez from there if you wish?”
“Do not telephone to Lopez!” exclaimed Legira. “I have told you to hold no communication with him. It
is all right for him to call you and leave a message for me. I instructed him in that, by telephone. Stop at
your apartment, by all means, but only find out if Lopez has called you.”
Desmond grumbled an affirmative response. He piloted the car silently, and drew up before a tall
apartment building. He parked the machine near the entrance. He left the car and entered the building.
Legira was alone with Francisco. The consul, nervous and worried, seemed a changed man. In his hand
he held an automatic. He waited impatiently for Desmond's return. It was several minutes before the man
arrived.
“Message from Lopez,” announced Desmond, as he took the wheel.
“You did not call him?” quizzed Legira, sharply.
“Of course not,” rejoined Desmond.
“All right, then,” said Legira. “Let us move along, Desmond, there is no time for delay of any sort.”
The car pulled away from the curb. It sped toward the nearest corner, swerved and swung into the light
of an avenue. Hardly had it departed, before another car was in motion.
This was a coupe, that had been lingering in the darkness, parked beside the apartment house. It picked
up the pursuit as it reached the avenue. It kept a respectable distance in the rear of the speeding sedan.
The big car crossed the Queensborough Bridge and headed eastward on Long Island. Still, the coupe
followed it.
Alvarez Legira, with ten million dollars in his possession was hastening toward a spot of security,
confident that no one in all New York could know his destination, save those two who accompanied him.
Yet, hard on the heels of the fleeing men, another was following. Legira could elude his enemies. He
could evade the forces of the law.
But he could not escape The Shadow!
CHAPTER XV. THE SHADOW HEARS
THE tang of salt air was evident when the big sedan pulled into the driveway of a secluded house on
Long Island. Far from other dwellings, this building was not distant from the coast. The gleaming
headlights showed what appeared to be a deserted home. Thick gravel crunched as Desmond brought
the car to a stop.
“You have the key?” questioned Legira.
“Right here,” responded Desmond.
“Open the front door for us,” ordered Legira.
Desmond's big, pudgy form showed in the light as he crossed in front of the car and advanced to the
house. He stood on the por
ch while Legira and Francisco carried the heavy box between them. They
entered the house. Desmond followed and closed the door.
Darkness persisted for less than a minute. Then Desmond found a light and turned it on. He gazed
curiously at the box that had been deposited on the floor.
Desmond's interest in the heavy luggage ended when he saw Legira glance in his direction. The pudgy
man led the way into a front room. There he lighted another electric lamp.
Legira dropped into a chair and breathed a long sigh of relief. Desmond sat down and lighted a cigar.
“Well, here we are,” he announced, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What time is it?” asked Legira.
“Quarter of eleven,” remarked Desmond, glancing at his watch.
“Excellent work,” said Legira, approvingly. “We came out here very rapidly.”
The consul from Santander seemed to have regained much of his natural poise. He twisted the ends of his
mustache and rubbed his chin reflectively. Then he had a sudden thought.
“The telephone!” he exclaimed. “It is connected here?”
Desmond nodded.
“I must call Lopez”—Legira hesitated—“I must be careful, though, telephoning from here. Yes, it will be
all right—”
Desmond pointed to the hall to indicate the location of the telephone. Legira arose and went there. He
found Francisco seated on a chair in the corner. He smiled as he noted the box, a few feet away.
“Keep on guard, Francisco,” said Legira, in Spanish. “It will not be for long, faithful one.”
Back in the front room, Desmond, listening carefully, could hear Legira calling the operator. The pudgy
man was intent. Nevertheless, he did not hear the sound of something at the window behind him. Less
than five feet away, a thin, dark blade had been thrust between the sections of the sash. The latch was
moving, noiselessly.
The sash opened. Desmond did not hear it. He was watching toward the hall. A shadow fell across the
floor beside him. It was a long, thin shadow, with silhouetted profile.
Desmond, bent upon hearing Legira speak, was utterly oblivious as a tall black figure entered by the
window. The sash descended. The figure merged with the dark end of a huge bookcase at a corner of
the room.
Legira was speaking now. Desmond tried to make out the conversation by overhearing the consul's
words.
“To-night?” Legira's voice was questioning. “Ballou? What? A wire?”
He grunted impatiently; then spoke rapidly in a flow of Spanish. An expression of keen disappointment
came over Desmond's face. He could not understand this jargon.
He realized that it was natural for Legira to converse with Lopez in their native tongue. Although the
consul occasionally interspersed a few words of English, they had no meaning for Desmond.
The pudgy man shrugged his shoulders and settled back in his chair. He was in that attitude when Legira
returned.
THERE was a serious look on the consul's face. It puzzled Desmond for a moment; then, as Legira
thoughtfully lighted a cigarette, Desmond divined that he was about to be taken into the South American's
confidence.
“Desmond,” said Legira, seriously, “I am in serious difficulty. Matters have changed—very badly. I am
worried. I shall depend upon you to aid me.”
“Glad to do it,” declared Desmond.
“I have paid you money in the past,” continued Legira. “Your services have been excellent. I promised
you the final half of your money when your work was completed. That, I expected, would be to-night.”
“So you told me.”
“Here is the money”—Legira produced an envelope from his pocket— “and it makes the final payment.
Five thousand dollars here. You have already received five thousand, not counting the expenses which I
have defrayed for you. I have paid you well, Desmond. In return, you have given me excellent service.”
“That's what you paid for.”
“Desmond,” resumed Legira, “I have further work for you. It is only a matter of a few details; yet I am
willing to pay one thousand dollars for the service. You can attend to these matters for me to-morrow.
They were things that I intended to do myself.”
Desmond waited for Legira to explain.
“Matters that I could easily take care of,” mused Legira, “but now that affairs have tightened, it is best
that some one else should do them. It is not wise for me to call Lopez again from here.”
“Give me the instructions,” said Desmond. “I'll attend to the rest.”
“I shall give you the one thousand dollars first,” declared Legira, producing the money from his pocket.
Desmond smiled as he accepted the bonus.
“I seldom speak at length,” said Legira, “but to-night I must do so. I want to impress upon you the
importance of your mission. Also, I feel that it is better for a man to know more after he has learned a
little.
“Until to-night, you did not know why I rented this house. You did not know where we were going until
we reached the Baltham Trust Company. I shall explain those matters—and other facts in addition.
“I have been in danger, Desmond. It was necessary for me to obtain a fund of money. There are people
who have tried to take it from me. One of them, a South American like myself, has been watching those
persons with whom I have negotiated. Yet he has cunningly kept in the background, doing all his work
through trusted agents.
“It was to deceive his agents that I employed you to obtain a man who could take my place—Perry
Wallace. Free, I was able to swing negotiations and gain possession of the funds to which I was entitled
as agent of the Santander government. You understand?”
“The money is in the box?” inquired Desmond.
“Yes,” admitted Legira. “Safely in the box. I am here on Long Island because I know that all boats for
Santander are being watched. A yacht is at present off this coast. It will meet me by sending in a little
boat, when I give the word.”
“When will that be?”
“To-morrow night, before midnight.” Legira glanced shrewdly at Desmond. “That is why I have a car
here in readiness.”
Desmond's face was placid as he nodded.
“The touring car is in back of the house,” he said. “I drove it over here this afternoon, from the garage at
the town.”
“About two miles?” questioned Legira.
“Just about,” replied Desmond. “I walked back to get the sedan.”
Legira leaned back in his chair. His cold stare traveled past Desmond and rested upon the bookcase at
the side of the room.
It was an old-fashioned piece of furniture. Legira eyed it in an absentminded manner. He noticed the
blackness at the far end, but took it only to be a long shadow cast by the corner of the bookcase.
“Unfortunately,” said Legira, in a thoughtful tone, “matters have taken a bad turn at my house. To-night,
Lopez discovered the wire of a dictograph running in from the window. Shortly afterward, an agent of my
enemies called to deliver an ultimatum. Midnight, to-morrow, is the deadline.”
“For whom?”
“For me—so they think. But they delivered the ultimatum to Wallace. Lopez was with him at the time.
Now, the situation is this. A false move by either of those two would ruin my plans. I can rely upon
Lopez. As for Wallace —”
&n
bsp; “You are paying him well—”
“Yes, but he had a row with Lopez to-night. As a result, Lopez is watching him. Therefore, Lopez may
encounter difficulties. I think that Wallace is simply worried—that's all. Nevertheless, some one must
keep in contact with Lopez in order to inform me. It would be unwise for me to call that house again from
here.”
“I understand. You want me to work in between.”
“Exactly. To-night, I shall send a radiogram to a certain ship at sea. That is something I can do by
telephone from here. The message will be picked up by the yacht—the Cordova. In return, I shall receive
a reply which can easily be heard by our radio set here. It will give me, in code, the exact time to meet
the Cordova's boat when it comes ashore at the appointed place. You understand?”
“Certainly. But how does that concern me?”
“In a most important way,” declared Legira, emphatically. “I shall call you, to let you know the time at
which I shall be leaving here. You will note that by coincidence, the limit of time given by my enemies is
exactly the limit that I shall have to wait before leaving the country.”
“To-morrow, midnight.”
“Yes. Wallace and Lopez must stay at their post until the limit. I have told Lopez not to go until ordered.
But should I receive word that I shall be met at—say ten o'clock—it will be safe for Wallace and Lopez
to leave at that time.”
“They will encounter danger?”
“Not necessarily. They can summon the police. I have made provision for that. A fake letter, threatening
the consulate, is in the possession of Lopez. He can protect himself and Wallace. But they must not do
anything until I am clear.”
“You make provision for everything,” said Desmond, in a tone of admiration.
“For all except treachery,” declared Legira. “That can be avoided only by careful choice of men.”
“Such as Lopez,” said Desmond.
“And yourself,” added Legira.
Desmond smiled in a pleased acknowledgment.
“That is all,” said Legira. “With your cooperation, all should go as I have intended. Be either at your
office or your apartment. I shall communicate with you when necessary.”
The consul arose and Desmond followed his example. Legira extended his hand.
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