Shadowed Millions s-21

by Maxwell Grant

  Shadowed Millions

  ( Shadow - 21 )

  Maxwell Grant

  SHADOWED MILLIONS

  Maxwell Grant

  This page copyright © 2002 Blackmask Online.

  http://www.blackmask.com

  ? CHAPTER I. THE SECRET MEETING

  ? CHAPTER II. LEGIRA ANSWERS QUESTIONS

  ? CHAPTER III. WATCHERS OF THE NIGHT

  ? CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW SEEKS

  ? CHAPTER V. THE EYES OF THE SHADOW

  ? CHAPTER VI. A THOUSAND A WEEK

  ? CHAPTER VII. LEGIRA'S DOUBLE

  ? CHAPTER VIII. LEGIRA'S PROPOSAL

  ? CHAPTER IX. THE LAST WARNING

  ? CHAPTER X. THE SHADOW SPEAKS

  ? CHAPTER XI. HENDRIX DECIDES

  ? CHAPTER XII. DEATH IN THE DARK

  ? CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW KNOWS

  ? CHAPTER XIV. LEGIRA PROCEEDS

  ? CHAPTER XV. THE SHADOW HEARS

  ? CHAPTER XVI. THE SHADOW'S THEORY

  ? CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW'S PLANS

  ? CHAPTER XVIII. THE MAN HIGHER UP

  ? CHAPTER XIX. CARDONA RECEIVES INSTRUCTIONS

  ? CHAPTER XX. DESMOND SCHEMES

  ? CHAPTER XXI. ZELVA DECIDES

  ? CHAPTER XXII. BEFORE NINE

  ? CHAPTER XXIII. THE SHADOW'S FIGHT

  ? CHAPTER XXIV. A TRAITOR'S TRIUMPH

  ? CHAPTER XXV. THE DOUBLE CROSS

  ? CHAPTER XXVI. THE COMPROMISE

  ? CHAPTER XXVII. THE JUST REWARD

  CHAPTER I. THE SECRET MEETING

  THE lobby of the Hotel Corona was thronged with an after-theater crowd. The big clock above the desk

  showed twenty minutes before twelve. The passive clerk blinked quietly at the gay host of visitors, who

  were on their way to the popular roof garden which this hotel maintained.

  The Corona was known as one of the brightest spots in Manhattan. Big men of business frequented this

  place. The clerk had noted many well-known faces among to-night's gatherers. Each elevator that went

  to the roof was filled with patrons. Business was always good at the Corona.

  A tall, middle-aged man entered the lobby. He cut an excellent figure in his immaculate evening clothes.

  He strolled along, swinging a light cane and staring about him with a bored expression. His pointed

  mustache gave him a sophisticated air; his keen eyes indicated a shrewdness that his manner masked.

  The clerk bowed courteously as the arrival glanced in his direction. This man was a most desirable patron

  of the Hotel Corona. The clerk recognized him as Alvarez Legira, consular agent of the newly formed

  republic of Santander.

  The clerk smiled as Legira acknowledged his greeting with a curt nod. Such guests as this wealthy South

  American added to the prestige of the hotel's popular roof garden. Legira was a frequent visitor at this

  hour. He was one of the celebrities that it was wise to cultivate.

  The elevator on which Alvarez Legira rode upstairs was well filled with persons who were all bound for

  one destination—the roof garden. Arriving there, the passengers stepped into a lobby that was already

  overthronged. Bell boys pointed out the check rooms. Legira, with the others, moved in the direction

  indicated.

  While he was waiting at the end of a line, the suave South American fitted a cigarette into a long holder.

  He struck a match and began to puff away, mildly surveying the persons who stood near by.

  While thus engaged, he seemed to lose all interest in checking his hat and cane. By a mere chance, he lost

  his place in the moving line, and eased away along the wall, hat and cane in one hand, cigarette holder in

  the other.

  THERE was nothing conspicuous about his action. There was no apparent haste. It seemed almost by

  coincidence that Alvarez Legira happened to reach the top of an obscure stairway, some thirty feet from

  the check room.

  Here, Legira stood waiting languidly, watching the doors of the elevators as though expecting the arrival

  of some companion. Then, of a sudden, his lethargy ended. Satisfied that not a single eye was upon him,

  the suave-faced man swung quickly away, and in a fraction of a second his form had disappeared down

  the stairway.

  There was stealth in the man's action as he passed the turn in the stair. The loud buzz of conversation

  from the upstairs lobby was muffled and indistinct. Legira stopped and listened intently. The only sign of

  motion about him was a curling wreath of smoke that trickled up from the lighted end of his cigarette.

  Satisfied at last that no one had observed his crafty departure, the consul from Santander continued his

  downward course.

  The stairway was little used. Legira was alone and unwatched as he descended flight after flight. Each

  landing was set back from the hall; hence the suave-faced man could have been seen only from the

  stairway.

  He stopped when he reached the eighth floor. There, he peered into the hallway. Seeing no one, Legira

  emerged from the stairway and betook himself toward the end of the corridor.

  He seemed familiar with the route that he was following. As he neared the end of the corridor, he

  stopped and turned to look back. His sharp gaze showed him that the corridor was deserted.

  Sure of this, Legira, his eyes still watching, reached forward and softly opened a door that bore the

  number 888. He stepped into a little entry. The door closed behind him.

  Legira was at the entrance to a suite of rooms. There were two doors close beside him, and a blank wall

  in the middle. The visitor knocked at the door on the right. It opened, and Legira stepped into a small

  reception room.

  The man who had admitted him was a solemn-faced individual who had the manner of a private

  secretary. He bowed to Legira, who merely nodded and raised his cigarette holder to his lips. The man

  who had opened the door closed it and turned the lock.

  “They are waiting for me?” questioned Legira.

  His words were spoken in perfect English, without the slightest trace of Spanish accent.

  Legira's companion responded with a solemn nod. With the air of a funeral director, he walked across

  the room and rapped at a door on the other side. The door opened, and he went through, leaving the

  South American alone.

  Alvarez Legira laughed. He put out the stump of his cigarette, inserted a new one in the holder, and

  resumed his smoking. His white teeth gleamed in the dim light of the room as he strolled backward and

  forward. He seemed to possess a natural love of intrigue, and this secret visit suited his fancy to

  perfection.

  Yet with it all, the man was nervous. His slow, restless stride, his incessant puffing of tobacco smoke, the

  occasional frown that replaced his gleaming smile; all betokened that he had only reached the threshold of

  tonight's mission. Alone, he had been announced. Now, he was waiting the bidding of some other

  persons.

  Legira stood by the window. It was high above the low-lying buildings that surrounded the hotel. Across

  flat-topped roofs, the observant South American saw the distant lights of brilliant Broadway. Half an hour

  ago he had been among those lights, just one of thousands leaving the gay rialto.

  Leisurely, with calmly feigned indifference, he had come to keep a myster
ious appointment. Here in New

  York, he had adopted the method of Santander, where secret cabals were held by stealth. A strange

  contrast—the intrigue of South America mingled with the practical ways of the United States.

  Finishing another cigarette, Legira glanced at his watch. It showed exactly twelve o'clock, the time of his

  appointment. He had arrived early. It would not be long before he would be admitted to the other room.

  STEALTHILY, Legira listened at that closed door. He heard nothing. He strode noiselessly across the

  room, and listened at the other door. He opened it softly, and peered into the entry. It was empty.

  Satisfied, the crafty man returned and locked the door. Back at the window, he lighted another cigarette.

  He was staring idly at the myriad lights when he heard the door of the inner room open.

  Without haste, Legira turned to look at the man who had ushered him here. The solemn-faced individual

  bowed and pointed to the inner door. Legira, more leisurely than ever, went to the door and opened it.

  He stepped into a larger room.

  There, standing just within the doorway, he surveyed a group of nine men who were seated about a long

  table. It was a staid gathering of prosperous businessmen—an anticlimax to the odd procedure that had

  brought Alvarez Legira to this place.

  The consul from Santander bowed to the men before him. His suavity was turned to courtesy. He had the

  air of a man who is seeking a favor, endeavoring to place himself in the most favorable light.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, in his perfectly intonated English.

  Responses came from the men at the table. One, a portly individual, who sat at the end, arose and

  stepped toward the visitor.

  “Hello, Legira,” he said, extending his hand. “Sorry we had to keep you waiting. You arrived a little

  earlier than we expected.”

  “To be early is to assure punctuality, Mr. Hendrix,” returned Legira, with a gleaming, affable smile.

  He shook hands with the heavy-set gentleman, who then ushered him to a chair at the far end of the

  table. With Legira seated, Hendrix took his place at the head.

  The members of the group shifted their chairs. While they puffed their cigars, Alvarez Legira calmly

  dangled his cigarette holder from his fingers, and watched them with a beaming smile that betokened his

  assurance. He looked toward Hendrix.

  “Go ahead, Legira,” said the portly man. “We want to hear your summary. Then there will be some

  questions. Our discussion has been favorable. It's up to you, now.”

  Legira smiled. These men were just the type that he had expected to meet. In appearance, they

  resembled the standardized pattern of American businessmen whom he had encountered so often since

  his arrival in New York.

  He felt a vast superiority over men of this type. His suavity, his keenness, his clever ease of

  speech—these were all to his advantage. Legira had a mission with these men, and he could picture

  himself swaying them by his persuasive arguments.

  Yet there were elements present that made his task a mighty challenge. These men were more than

  ordinary businessmen. They were financiers who represented vast interests. That, in itself, was a factor

  that required skill and diplomacy of speech. But to Alvarez Legira it was only a secondary matter.

  The great challenge to the man from Santander was the tremendous stake that hinged upon to-night's

  negotiations. If he could be calm, keen, and persuasive, he would gain his mission. If he should betray

  anxiety and lack assurance, he would lose.

  This thought was uppermost in Legira's mind as he began to speak. He had come here to ask for

  something. Before he left, he would have the final answer from this group. That answer would be either

  “yes” or “no”—without further qualification.

  The matter that thus hung in the balance was a sum of money which Legira hoped to receive in return for

  concessions that he had offered.

  That sum was exactly ten million dollars!

  CHAPTER II. LEGIRA ANSWERS QUESTIONS

  THE silent group of financiers listened with intense interest while Alvarez Legira spoke persuasively. The

  soft, purring voice of the South American carried a convincing tone.

  With keen eyes watching his auditors, Legira unfolded a large map and spread it upon the table. All eyes

  followed his finger as it indicated the territorial divisions that Legira had marked upon the chart.

  “The state of Santander,” explained the consul, “has always been regarded as an important territorial

  division of the Republic of Colombia. It has at times been practically an autonomous government; at other

  periods, it has been merely a province of Colombia. It bears a close relationship to bordering territories

  of Venezuela, leading to Lake Maracaibo, which provides outlet to the Caribbean Sea.

  “The Spanish conquerors swept past this district when they drove southward. It was also a scene of strife

  during the campaigns of Simon Bolivar, the Liberator. Thus the natural resources of Santander have

  always been neglected.

  “We, of Santander, had great hopes that through trade with the United States, we could develop the

  tremendous mineral wealth that has not, as yet, been touched. Unfortunately, the controversy between

  Colombia and the United States that followed the affair of the Panama Canal produced a prejudice

  throughout Colombia.

  “Now, through the work of important men in Santander, we have virtually established a new republic, an

  offshoot of Colombia, with a territorial grant from Venezuela. We have managed to curb the factions that

  have demanded violent revolution.

  “The Republic of Santander is organized for peaceful development and stable government. With the

  payment of indemnities to Colombia and Venezuela, we shall take our place among the nations of the

  world.”

  As Legira completed his remarks, his face took on the expression of the zealous patriot—a complete

  change from the air of an intriguing schemer. His quiet, effective tones produced nods of approbation

  from the listeners.

  Legira sensed that he had gained results. He paused and waited for a full moment. Then, in an easy

  manner, he added:

  “We require ten million dollars to assure the independence of Santander. In return for that amount, we

  shall grant full and exclusive concessions to the American interests which you represent. You have

  already been presented with the details of the plan. I have summarized my proposal. I await your

  answer.”

  Legira resumed his seat at the end of the table. His languorous assurance returned. He replenished his

  cigarette holder and leaned back in his chair, puffing away. He was expecting questions; and one came

  from John Hendrix, the spokesman of the financiers.

  “YOUR proposal has been carefully considered,” declared the portly man. “It appears bona fide, Legira.

  I may add that we have discussed it— confidentially, of course—with certain men well acquainted with

  affairs in South America. They have spoken in its favor.”

  Legira smiled in confident manner.

  “In fact,” resumed Hendrix, “we have obtained opinions from certain South Americans, themselves. One

  man in particular—Rodriguez Zelva— studied the proposal in detail.”

  Legira's eyes opened suddenly at the mention of the name. He stared intently toward Hendrix; then

  quickly resumed his
air of indifference. Only the sharp clicking of his teeth against the stem of the

  cigarette holder indicated Legira's momentary perturbation.

  “Mr. Zelva,” continued Hendrix, “is a prominent Venezuelan, who is at present in New York. He spoke

  highly of the Santander plans, and gave us full assurance that the newly formed government would abide

  by its agreements.”

  Legira's surprise turned to perplexity; then his face assumed an expression of pleased confidence. He

  smiled as he looked about the group. Then his features froze as he encountered the cold stare of a man

  seated at the side of the table.

  Until now, Alvarez Legira had considered these men as a group, not as individuals. It was with both

  surprise and alarm that he discovered this one man who was different.

  Legira saw a face that was firm and impassive, a countenance as rigid and as impenetrable as his own.

  The eyes that peered from the masklike visage were inscrutable in their glance. Legira realized that those

  eyes were searching, watching him with hawkish attitude.

  Who was this stranger, so different from the other financiers? What was the meaning of his inscrutable

  gaze?

  Legira was ill at ease. He knew that he had met a man who was more than his match. Was the man a

  friend or an enemy?

  The voice of John Hendrix came in tones that seemed far away to Alvarez Legira. The South American

  shook himself from the hypnotic stare that had so amazed him, and managed to look toward Hendrix.

  “The chief question,” Hendrix was saying, “concerns the manner of these negotiations. Frankly, Legira,

  the secrecy upon which you have insisted has raised doubts in our minds. You asked me to arrange this

  meeting at this unusual time, and in this unusual place. We want to know why you have insisted on that

  point.”

  Legira regained his suavity with an effort. He looked about him, taking care to avoid the glance of the

  hawk-faced man at the side of the table. He spoke with polished dignity.

  “Gentlemen,” he declared, “the sum of ten million dollars is vital in the affairs of Santander. All is settled;

  all is waiting. It is the desire of the new republic's officials to call an expected meeting of sworn delegates

  from Colombia and Venezuela; and to pay them in full at that time.

  “Talk of negotiations, discussion of money that is on the way— these are elements that might lead to