by Van Powell
Chapter 33 A NEW SUSPICION
It was Roger's plan to consult his list of "sound" evidence and try tomake it tell him whatever secret must be hidden there.
No other plan seemed so likely to be fruitful. If he was supposed to bein the dark-room, his presence in the office must show to some guiltyperson that Roger was equally alert and crafty. He wanted to "startsomething" in the open. Underground methods, secret attempts to do awaywith him, were hateful to open-natured, frank Roger.
Strolling up from the cellar, he watched the effect of his arrival fromthat unexpected quarter. Mr. Millman, discovering him, looked up with astart.
"Hey! Thought you were developing the stuff Zendt took up."
Zendt--Millman. Roger connected the two mentally.
"Those speed pictures are important." Mr. Ellison scowled, and Rogerbegan to wonder whether his anger was genuine or if he, himself, wasgiving too much importance to a mere annoyance.
"I was just testing my new 'cloak of invisibility,'" Roger put on acareless manner. He would give _them_ something to puzzle about.
"Science is just the reality that used to be fairy stories," he said,with a grin. "Pegasus, the flying horse, was just another way ofprophesying airplanes. And if a magician could wave a wand and turn abeast into a Prince, doesn't chemistry transmute base elements intowonderful, modern products? I got an idea that the cloak or helmet ofinvisibility, like the Helmet in Wagner's opera that I heard on theradio, is just the prophecy of some Omega-ray, that makes thingstransparent and invisible without hurting them. It works, too. Did yousee me go out?"
"No," Mr. Millman snapped out the word, adding:
"But we _will_ see you go out--to the observation ward of thepsychopathic division in some hospital if you waste any more time withthis crazy talk."
Roger, thinking quickly, decided that he was hearing a threat. Millmanwas not joking. If an astrologer, coming into the office, had recognizedthe man, either facing him or hidden under the desk, and for thatknowledge had come near to being "sent West," then it would not be putpast such desperate people to believe they would deliberately put himinto the ward where supposedly insane people are kept, while doctorsstudied their mentality.
That, he reflected swiftly, would effectively get him out of the way;and it would discredit his ideas.
"I was only joking. What's the matter with everybody? Snap me up becauseI chased out past you to see what the shooting was for."
"Well, get back to your work. Potts isn't here. It's up to you to keepthings going till the Chief says differently."
Roger looked defiant. He meant to see how far the man--or the pair,would go.
Doctor Ryder and Mr. Zendt, who had evidently been conferring on theupper floor about some biochemical condition of the disease the doctorwas studying, heard the raised voice of the electrical engineer and camedown the stairway.
"What's going on?" asked Doctor Ryder, twisting his watch chain, whichhung across his ample chest. Roger, who saw the big charm, which hung onthe chain, flicking its golden back in the light, realized, with aninward start, that the doctor seemed to be telegraphing with that"heliographic" flicker, as a Boy Scout would use a mirror to send amessage from his camp to another, from a hilltop.
"Oho!" Roger's mind was alert, "So he's telegraphing somebody."
He hid his smile of triumph.
"So you're in it, are you?" he mentally accused. "Well, two can playthat heliograph game. I can read if you can send."
While he listened to Mr. Ellison's angry commands to get that filmdeveloped or the Chief would be called up, Roger mentally received theflickers of the heliograph-like gold back of the twisting charm.
"B-e c-a-r-e-f-u-l."
"Warning him," Roger's mental comment was not audible.
"More?" He saw the charm continue, as if the doctor was nervous.
"R-o-g-e-r," it told him.
"He's warning _me_!"
Roger, grateful, and glad that his first suspicion had been unwarranted,waited to see if more would come, while his facial expression was meantto infuriate Millman and Ellison.
"B-e-h-i-n-d y-o-u."
Roger, turning his head, realized that there _was_ good intentionplainly apparent in that peculiar flicker-warning.
In the office doorway stood a stranger.
Whether he meant good or ill Roger did not know. But he swung sharply,about to demand the stranger's right to intrude beyond the railing whenhe saw that the stenographer, Miss Murry, had sent him in.
Roger, taking him in, saw a short, bald-headed, thin gentleman in afrock coat, striped trousers and a high silk hat.
"I am looking for a Roger Brown," the man studied the group. "The officegirl thought I ought to find him in what she calls a dark-room up somestairs. Can you tell me?"
"I am Roger Brown, sir."
Roger stepped forward.
"Can I see you in private?"
Roger saw that Doctor Ryder's watch ornament, emblem of a secretfraternity, was flicking around again.
"S-a-y l-i-t-t-l-e," it seemed to counsel.
"I can take you to my cousin's private room, sir." He nodded to show thedoctor that he understood. "But I can say little about our work until mycousin is here." He led the way to the private door. He had told thedoctor that he caught the two words.
"So you are Roger Brown." The man was seated in the "thinking den"opposite Roger, who stood by the window and admired the sumptuouslimousine with its chauffeur, waiting outside.
"Yes, sir. How do you know my name, and what do you want to see meabout?"
"I know your name--no matter how. As for what I came about, I want todicker with you direct, instead of with anybody else."
"Dicker?"
"For the Eye of--er--Aum or Ohm."
"Why do you think you can dicker with me, Mister----"
The man did not reveal his name.
"You have the thing."
"Who says I have?"
"I know you have it, Roger. The point is," he glanced at his watch, "andI must hurry--the point is, you got it. Somebody else offers to get itfrom you and sell it to me but I think I may get a better price fromyou, direct."
"Well, you can't. Who says you could get it from him?"
"Young friend of yours--Tobias or something like that."
"Toby Smith, huh? Well, he can't sell it because I can't turn it over tohim. Only saw it in the Buddha's head, and in a man's hand. Maybe Tobyalready has it. Let's go ask him."
"Can't waste time. What's your best price?"
"Well----" Roger had an idea. "You leave your card and I'll get in touchwith you."
"I won't go higher than ninety thousand. If that suits, call up Clark,on Fifth Avenue, and say you are ready to close. He will understand, andwill arrange everything. Good day."
Brusquely, abruptly, the man left. Roger let him go.
But when the limousine had drawn away, Roger marked down its licensenumber, and within five minutes, from the Bureau of Motor VehicleLicenses he had information.
That license plate on the limousine belonged to a wealthy man, oftenmentioned in financial news. Roger, from a book of "Who's Who" learnedmore; he was a collector, among other things.
But, Roger asked himself, was his wealth, position and hobby any reasonnot to place his name among those suspected, or at least connected withthe Eye of Om mystery?
And Toby. And Clark. They came uppermost again.
If only he could get the hidden clue in his list!
