�Twenty million pesos!�

�It means more than that, Lopez. Dollars are safer than pesos. Yes, I can obtain the ten million dollars

any time I want them. But after that��

�You think they will know?�

�Not yet. Not for a while. But I am worried, Lopez. If I proceed quickly, all may be well. On the

contrary, that might be a grave mistake. It is best to wait.�

�But not to wait long, senor.�

�No�not too long. Wait, to see if they know. If they do not know, we can act quickly and surely.�

�What of this man named Powell?�

�I can avoid trouble with him, Lopez. That is part of my plan. I have arranged negotiations so that I deal

with only one man. That is Hendrix, the principal one of the financiers.

�I can handle Hendrix. That will avoid complications with Powell. Unless Powell learns of the others��

�You mean if he should learn of Ballou. Eh, senor?�

�Not Ballou alone,� said Legira. �Those others, who are with Ballou. There is nothing to worry about so

long as Ballou seems to be an individual by himself. But if his connections are discovered� well, it may

spoil all, Lopez.�

�Could you not watch Ballou, senor?�

�I cannot move, Lopez. Surely, you must understand that. It is like a scales. A balance with Ballou and

Powell. Either one could spoil the balance. That would end everything. Fortunately, Powell is watching

me and is not concerned with Ballou��

The ring of a bell interrupted Legira's speech. The consul stared at his secretary. From below came the

sound of Francisco's footsteps as the servant answered the door. Then the heavy tread ascended the

stairway. Lopez went to meet the servant.

The secretary's dark visage registered excitement when Lopez returned to the room. Legira looked at

him questioningly.

�It is Pete Ballou, senor,� declared Lopez. �He is down the stairs. He has a wish to see you.�

�Tell Francisco to bring him up here,� ordered Legira in a low whisper. �Come back here right away,

Lopez. Tell Francisco to be slow.�

The secretary nodded. He left to dispatch the servant. He returned, and Legira gripped him by the

shoulder.

�They suspect already!� hissed Legira. �Stay here, Lopez. Listen, from behind the closet door. You

understand?�

Lopez nodded and hurried to the hiding place. Alvarez Legira looked about him nervously. Then, with a

sudden shrug of his shoulder, he calmly resumed his chair and lighted a fresh cigarette.

He was staring reflectively at a cloud of tobacco smoke when the footsteps of two men sounded from the

stairs.

CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW SEEKS

FRANCISCO entered the room where Alvarez Legira was seated. He stood aside to allow another man

to enter. Legira looked up placidly toward his visitor.

The arrival was a man of middle height, stocky in build, and well dressed. His countenance was puzzling.

It gave the appearance of frankness, despite the fact that the blue eyes had a steely glint.

Only the lips of the smooth-shaven face carried a warning to those who might observe them closely.

Those lips were smiling, as in greeting, but the corners carried a peculiar twist that belied the expression

of friendliness.

Pete Ballou was shrewd, but disarming. In this, he formed a marked contrast to Alvarez Legira, whose

sallow face, thin lips, and pointed mustache denoted an intriguing nature.

Ballou, not waiting for Legira's welcome, sat in the chair which Lopez had vacated. Francisco, at a sign

from his master, walked from the room and went downstairs.

Legira surveyed his visitor with a steadfast stare. The South American gave no sign that might have

indicated either interest or curiosity regarding his visitor's purpose here. Ballou's smile hardened on his

lips. A short, gruff laugh betrayed his true nature.

�You want me to talk first?� he questioned.

Legira shrugged his shoulders, almost imperceptibly.

�All right,� declared Ballou. �I'll talk. What's more, I'll make it quick. I'm going to put it straight from the

shoulder. I'm here to talk about the ten million you swung to-night.�

�Ten million?�

Legira's smooth, purring tone indicated a curious interest, as though he wondered to what the words �ten

million� might refer.

�Yes,� grunted Ballou. �The ten million dollars. Big money for the crowd down in Santander. Big

money�if they get it.�

Legira raised his cigarette holder to his lips and gave a series of short, quick puffs. His face was as placid

as ever. He expressed no surprise.

�You're smooth enough,� declared Ballou, with a chuckle. �There's no use trying to dodge me, though.

I've got the whole lay, Legira. You're all set to get ten million dollars. Any time you want it, any way you

want it.

�Pretty smart�but not smart enough. I'm telling you, now, that it's not going to do you a bit of good.�

Legira remained inscrutable.

�Play dumb if you want,� continued Ballou. �Play dumb, but listen. I'm going to give you a break.

Fifty-fifty.�

�Fifty-fifty?�

�Yes. Five million to you; five million to me. Your business is yours; my business is mine. There's the

proposition!�

�I HAVE requested no proposition,� said Legira suavely.

�Why stall?� Ballou's question was a harsh one. �You're in a tough spot, Legira. I'm showing you a good

way out. Listen to me�we've put you where you can't move. Savvy?

�You've raised ten million dollars, very nicely. But the people that are giving it to you aren't so dumb. This

bird Powell has been watching you all along. I guess I'm not telling you news when I say that.

�If he sees anything phony about you, he'll tell those bankers that are putting up the dough. He's their

investigator. One bad report from him, and the deal will be off!�

�Very interesting,� observed Legira calmly.

�You're foxy,� said Ballou. �You know we don't want to tip off Powell any more than you do. Because if

you don't get ten million, we can't get it. But if it comes to a pinch, we'll queer your game right at

headquarters by letting Powell get wind of us. Just remember that!�

�Thank you,� commented Legira.

�Powell won't get wise,� resumed Ballou. �You won't tell him; we won't tell him. You're going to get that

ten million dollars. Right. But after you get it, we'll take it away from you. You're the only man who can

get it, and we're going to watch you all the time.

�But if you bungle it, by waiting too long, there'll be nothing in it for any one. So we're giving you a break.

Take the ten million, and be quick about it. Pass over half, and keep the rest. What do you say?�

�You have spoken words that interest me greatly, Mr. Ballou,� remarked Legira. �One word in particular

was most noteworthy.�

�What was that?�

�The word we. Just what do you mean by we, Mr. Ballou? I should be glad to learn the names of some

of your associates.�

An angry, defiant expression came over Ballou's face. For a moment the visitor appeared about to lose

his temper. Then he smiled, in ugly fashion.

�You're working for some one else, aren't you?� he demanded.

�I represent the official government of Santander,� said Legira proudly.

�All right, then.� Ballou's smile broke into a harsh laugh. �I represent the unofficial government. Let it go

at that.�

�I recognize none but the official.�

�Why be a fool, Legira?� quizzed Ballou. �They're all alike, down in Santander. Out for what they can

get. Graft�that's the big word. Same as it is everywhere in South America��

�I do not relish insults,� interposed Legira coldly. �The government which I represent is composed of

men who are honest and sincere. They have the interests of Santander at heart.�

�All right,� agreed Ballou. �Suppose they do. They want money, too. Five million dollars. They won't

sneeze at that, will they? You're up here, asking for ten million. How much of it you intend to hand over is

your own business, not mine. All I'm here to tell you is that you get five million. Not a nickel more!�

�I intend to deliver any money that I may receive to the government of Santander,� declared Legira.

�If�as you believe�I am to receive ten million dollars, all of it will go to the right men in Santander. But

I do not have ten million dollars. I may never have it��

�You'll get it!� interrupted Ballou, rising impatiently. �Ship it to Santander on any boat you want. I'm

telling you that the minute that money leaves New York, it's lost to you. Understand? Split here, and

we're quits. Try to slip one over on us, you'll lose all. We've got things sewed up��

BALLOU stopped abruptly. He turned and strode to the door. He stopped there and waited for Legira

to speak. The consul said nothing.

�We're giving you ten days,� declared Ballou, in a final tone. �We get our half then. If we don't��

�Well?�

Legira's question was a cold interruption.

�Then we get the whole business,� added Ballou. �I know plenty about matters down in Santander,

Legira. You're too wise to put any stock in that tinhorn government you call official. I figure you're out for

what you can grab.

�You've pulled a neat one here in New York. Pulled it to the tune of ten million dollars. Divide it by two,

and you'll be about right. Santander's the only place where you can jump.

�Your official government��Ballou's words were sarcastic��will be a joke alongside of the unofficial

when it comes to a pinch.

�I'm laying the cards on the table. We want five million. We'll let you have five if we get five. If you try to

take all ten, we'll tip off the tough boys in Santander. There'll be a revolution, pronto. Five million for us,

five million for the revolutionists.

�So take your choice, Legira. If you want five million�for yourself or your official government�you've

got your chance for it now. Otherwise, it will be ciphers for you. That's final!�

�It is very late, Mr. Ballou,� said Legira wearily. �I suggest that you leave now, so that you may report to

the persons who sent you.�

�No one will know who sent me,� growled Ballou. �You're not going to play with us, eh?�

�I am spending my life in work�not in play.�

Ballou was momentarily disconcerted. Then he shook his forefinger angrily at the quiet, leisurely man who

faced him.

�Ten days,� he said. �That's the limit!�

Francisco was coming up the stairs; Ballou turned away and met the servant, who escorted him down to

the ground floor. Legira could hear the gruff voice mumbling from below.

Lopez came slinking from the closet. He looked at Legira in both admiration and concern. The consul

paid no attention to his secretary's expression. He was smiling grimly, and now a soft, scheming chuckle

came from his lips. He pointed to the telephone. Lopez brought it to him.

Legira held one finger on the hook; the other hand kept the receiver close to his ear. There was a dull

sound of the front door closing.

Softly, Legira called a number. A voice responded after a few moments. The consul appeared to

recognize its tones.

�This is Legira,� he said. �We will try our plan to-morrow. Proceed immediately.�

RISING, Legira stood before a mirror, surveying his own countenance. Lopez was peering over his

shoulder. Legira smiled as he noted the contrast. His own face, despite its suave expression, was

scarcely an unusual one, like that of Lopez. The consul continued to stare, while Lopez looked on,

wondering.

Legira motioned, and Lopez followed him into a dark front room. Together, they peered from the

window. Pete Ballou was standing on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street. A late cab swung

into view. The ex-visitor hailed it, and rode away.

A moment later, Legira nudged Lopez as the form of a man showed on the sidewalk opposite.

�Martin Powell,� said Legira, in a low voice.

The investigator stalked away into the darkness. Both men watched. They saw no one else. A short

exclamation came from Lopez as he gripped Legira's arm. Then the secretary laughed sheepishly.

�I thought that was some person,� he said. �A person that was walking there from over the street. It is

not one.�

Legira, looking, observed a fleeting shadow as it flickered beneath the glare of the lamp outside. Then he

lost sight of it as he peered toward the darkness of the alley opposite. Had Legira watched the blackish

shape, he might have seen it momentarily assume the form of a living man as it neared the side of the

house.

The consul returned with his secretary to the room with the shuttered window. Again, Legira stood

before the mirror, with Lopez peering from beside him.

Minutes rolled by. The drawn shade fluttered slightly, as though the shutter outside had been opened by

an unseen hand.

Legira did not notice the movement of the shade. Nor did he see the long, narrow shadow that had

appeared upon the floor, stretching from the window to his feet. Instead, Legira turned to face Lopez.

�It will not be difficult,� was his cryptic remark. �Not very difficult. It would be so if I were you, Lopez.

Very difficult then, perhaps.�

The secretary appeared bewildered. Legira laughed knowingly. He strode from the room, leaving Lopez

wondering. Then the secretary followed.

The window shade fluttered. There was a slight, almost inaudible noise. The shutter was closing. In the

blackness, on the wall outside the house, a figure that clung like a mammoth bat, began a downward

course, pressing close to the projecting stones.

The form was lost in the darkness below. It appeared momentarily in the light near the front wall of the

house. A tall man, clad in black, was revealed a moment; then his figure vanished in the night.

Only a low, soft laugh marked the strange departure of this mysterious personage. The figure was

invisible as it drifted across the street and stopped near the entrance to the alley opposite.

The Shadow, man of the night, had been searching here. Shrouded in darkness, he had observed the

departure of Pete Ballou. He had witnessed the approach of Martin Powell. He had spied upon Alvarez

Legira and his secretary, Lopez.

Now, at the entrance of the alley, he detected the presence of �Silk� Dowdy, the hidden watcher.

Unseen, unnoticed, The Shadow slipped away into the dark.

CHAPTER V. THE EYES OF THE SHADOW

ONE week had elapsed since the eventful night when Alvarez Legira had swung his ten-million-dollar

deal with the New York financiers. Seated in the secluded room of his residence, the consul from

Santander was talking with his thin-faced secretary, Lopez.

�Ten days, was it not?� questioned Legira smoothly. �Let us see� six have passed. There will be four

more.�

�Yes, senor,� replied Lopez. �It is four more days. Yet you have done nothing, senor.�

�Nothing,� returned Legira, with a smile. �Nothing, Lopez, yet I am not worried. I had expected some

change before this evening. However� - he shrugged his shoulders��to-morrow is another day.�

�You have some plan, senor��Lopez spoke in a cautious voice� �some plan that you have not told to

me. Is it not so, senor? Why is it that you have not spoken to me?�

Legira arose and clapped his secretary upon the shoulder. The consul's face broke into a scheming smile.

Lopez grinned in return. These two understood each other, from long experience.

�I shall tell you, Lopez,� declared Legira. �Soon, but not now. You remember the night that Pete Ballou

came here. When he left, I asked you to bring me��

His words ended, and he pointed his thumb toward the telephone. Lopez nodded. He remembered the

brief conversation which Legira had held on that night, but he could not recall the number that the consul

had called.

�That was it, Lopez,� said Legira. �You know me well. I am always thinking ahead, am I not?�

�Yes, senor.�

�I was thinking ahead that night. I am still thinking ahead. I have a plan, Lopez, a wonderful plan!�

Smiling, Legira turned and stared at the mirror in the same manner that he had employed on that other

night. He swung back toward Lopez, and the secretary's face began to gleam with understanding.

�Ah, senor,� he said. �I do not know what your plan may be, but it seems to me that it must be wise.

There are men who watch you�all the time. There is that man called Powell. There are others which we

do not see; but we know they are with that man Ballou. If you should do anything which they should

suspect, it would be very bad. While you are here, you cannot do what you might wish. But if��

Legira's hand came up in warning. He shook his head as a sign that Lopez should say no more.

Significantly, the consul pointed to the walls of the room.

�There are eyes outside this house,� he said, in a low tone. �There may be ears within. Let us forget these

matters, Lopez. To-morrow we shall go to the consular office as usual to take care of minor business.

Little details must go on, even when large events are looming.�

Lopez nodded. He walked across the room and raised the window shade slightly. He wanted to make

sure that the iron shutter without was still securely barred. His inspection proved satisfactory. But there

was something which even the keen eyes of Lopez did not observe.

WHERE the side of the window frame met the sill, there was a narrow crack. Deep in that crevice ran a

thin green wire, which became visible only beneath the sill. There it extended to a spot behind a radiator.

Legira smiled at his secretary's apprehension. The consul, like Lopez, did not notice the thin wire. It, too,

had made its appearance in that spot on the same night when Pete Ballou had called to deliver his

ultimatum. It had been left after Ballou had gone. The Shadow had placed it there for future use.

�Remember this,� said Legira, speaking quietly to Lopez. �When a man has important work to do, it is

well that he should deal with one - not with many.�

Lopez nodded.

�There is nothing more to-night,� declared Legira. �I shall resume my reading. You may go, Lopez. The

office, to-morrow, at nine o'clock.�

The secretary left the room. Alvarez Legira took a book from the table and commenced to read.

Lopez, however, did not share his master's calm. He went to the dark front room and peered out from

the depths of the window. He was looking for vague shapes of watching men�those who were always

there, yet who could know nothing of what transpired within these walls.

Despite his concern, Lopez did not for one moment suspect that there were other ways whereby tabs

could be kept on what was happening at this house. He did not know that everything that he and Legira

had said had been heard by a man stationed in the front room of the house next door�a man who could

also see the street below.

Lopez ended his inspection of the street below. All was quiet to-night; quiet, as it had been for one week.

The secretary returned and passed the door of the room where the consul was reading. A clock on the

mantel was chiming twelve.

AT that very moment, the exact stroke of midnight, a light clicked in a room in another part of New

York, far from the residence of Alvarez Legira. The rays of a green-shaded lamp fell upon a

smooth-topped table. There, two hands appeared, bringing a long white envelope beneath the glare.

Strange hands! White, with long, slender fingers, the hands seemed as living objects that moved detached

from the form that governed them.

As the left hand deftly tore open the end of the envelope, the light from above reflected the luster of a

jewel that gleamed with a strange glow upon the third finger.

That gem was a girasol�the priceless fire opal which was the prized possession of The Shadow. It was

unmatched in all the world; and the shafts of light that sprang from its iridescent depths were changing and

mysterious. From a rich crimson, they varied to a purplish hue, then glimmered a deep blue.

Folded papers tumbled from the envelope. The hands of The Shadow opened them, and eyes from the

dark began a study of the messages which they contained. These were reports from agents of The

Shadow.

A tiny light shone from a black patch on the other side of the table. A hand stretched in that direction. It

returned with a pair of earphones. They were adjusted in the darkness. A whispered voice spoke.

�Report, Burbank.�

The clicking sound of a voice vibrated through the receiver. The Shadow was listening, hearing the words

of Burbank, the one operative who held direct communication with The Shadow himself.

�Report from Vincent,� came Burbank's words.

�Proceed,� said The Shadow.

�No activities on the part of Martin Powell, when away from the vicinity of Legira's residence.�

A pause; then Burbank followed with his next statement.

�Report from Burke.�

�Proceed.�

�Ballou has held communication with Silk Dowdy, who is watching Legira's residence. No developments.

Ballou has had no contact with others.�

�Give your own report.�

�Observations,� declared Burbank. �Martin Powell appeared on street at nine five, walking westward.

Returned at nine sixteen, walking eastward. Appeared again at eleven eighteen. Remained until eleven

twenty-two.

�Another man, identity unknown. Appeared at eleven eleven. Stopped at entrance of alley, apparently to

receive instructions from Silk Dowdy. Resumed progress eastward at eleven thirteen.�

There was a momentary pause; then Burbank's low voice continued its methodical monotony.

�Heard on the dictograph��

The Shadow's hand was at work as Burbank spoke slowly and steadily. The hand was transcribing a

verbatim report of the conversation that had taken place between Alvarez Legira and his secretary,

Lopez. With the completion of that message, Burbank's report ended.

On the illuminated table lay the transcribed conversation. From the darkness, keen eyes were studying it.

In black and white, that conversation was cryptic. It did not describe the actions of Legira and Lopez;

how the consul had stared in the mirror; how the secretary had suddenly divined a hidden meaning in

what had been said.

Now, the hands held the sheet of paper. They crumpled it and tossed it aside. The light went out. From

the darkness came a low, sinister laugh that reechoed from the walls of a pitch-black room. Then silence

reigned. The man of the night had gone.

IT was nine o'clock the next morning when Alvarez Legira and his man Lopez rode along a side street

near Times Square, in a taxicab. The street was almost blocked by a crowd of men who were swarming

toward the door of a narrow-fronted building.

�More men seeking employment,� observed Legira. �Every morning� always such a throng.�

�Yes, senor,� returned Lopez. �It has been that way for all this last week.�

Legira's keen eyes spotted a man standing in the line. For an instant, the consul seemed elated; then he

repressed the words that were coming to his lips. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. The cab swept

by and turned the next corner. On the avenue, it stopped before an office building. Legira and his

secretary alighted.

The man from Santander walked leisurely through the lobby, chatting with Lopez as he went. He paid no

attention to a thickset man who stepped on the elevator with him, and who alighted at the fourth floor

when he and Lopez stepped off.

The stranger walked in the opposite direction. His presence meant nothing to Legira. As the consul and

his secretary passed the door of a deserted office, there was a slight click of a closing latch. Legira did

not seem to notice it.

They reached the end of the passage. Before them was an office which bore the coat of arms of

Santander emblazoned on the door. Lopez applied a key. He stood aside as Legira entered the consular

office.

This was a large, single room, with a clothes closet in the corner. Neither Legira nor Lopez observed a

thin green wire which ran from behind a desk along the baseboard of the wall and out beneath the door

Lopez had closed.

�They are watching again, senor,� declared Lopez, in a low voice.

�As always,� returned Legira. �Watching�the fools. Martin Powell on the elevator. One of Ballou's

men, hiding in an office.�

�But they are not in here, senor��

�No?� Legira's question was accompanied by an arching of his dark eyebrows. �Perhaps not, Lopez.

But remember what I said last night. Walls do not always prevent persons from hearing.�

Legira walked to the door of the closet. He opened it and stepped within. He pressed a hook on the

wall. A panel slid aside to reveal a passageway. Legira released the hook. The barrier closed. The man

emerged from the closet.

�Perhaps, Lopez��Legira's voice was cautious��perhaps there will be a reason to use��

He pointed toward the secret opening. Lopez looked puzzled. He knew of the existence of the sliding

panel, but did not understand its purpose; had never known it to be used.

�They are watching,� said Legira softly. �Perhaps they are listening also. Let them watch. Let them listen.

They will not learn.�

The consul smiled as he sat down before a large desk. The thoughts that were passing through his brain

were known to himself alone.

Here, as in his residence, Alvarez Legira could not move without his actions being discovered. He knew

the identity of certain watchers. Did he suspect the presence of others?

THE eyes of The Shadow had joined the vigil that surrounded this man from Santander. Through his

agents The Shadow was watching. More than that, The Shadow had ears which Alvarez Legira did not

know existed.

Yet the consul from Santander appeared unperturbed. Was his attitude due to confidence, or ignorance?

Even Lopez, his one confidant, was perplexed by the expression which appeared on Legira's face. The

secretary could not fathom the consul's thoughts.

Legira's eyes were half closed. His lips were smiling as his fingers twisted the ends of his pointed

mustache. He was picturing a face that he had seen that very morning�the countenance of the man

whom he had noticed standing in the line outside of the employment bureau.

�This is the seventh day, Lopez?� the consul inquired suddenly.

�The seventh, senor,� replied the secretary solemnly. �There are only three more, senor.�

�Three will be sufficient,� declared Legira.

The cryptic remark was accompanied by a smile as Legira reached to the desk and began to consult a

pile of papers that lay before him. Whatever eyes and ears might be watching and listening, the consul

from Santander was unconcerned.

CHAPTER VI. A THOUSAND A WEEK

THE line was moving in through the door of the employment agency. Men were filing by a desk where a

stenographer was noting questions regarding age, former occupation, and experience. The man whom

Alvarez Legira had noted on the curb had now reached the inner door.

�Your name, please?�

�Perry Wallace.�

The girl looked up at the sound of the man's quiet, well-modulated voice. Perry Wallace had the

appearance of a gentleman, despite the shabby appearance of his clothes. His tanned face was passive;

his dark eyes were dull as they stared toward the questioner. There was a certain sullenness about the

thin lips beneath the black, unkempt mustache�the expression of a man who has been beaten in his

battle with the world.

�What qualifications, Mr. Wallace?�

�Not many,� said the man frankly. �I worked as a bank teller for three years. I guess there's not much

call for any one in that line��

�Just a moment, Mr. Wallace.�

The girl was noting the man's appearance. She rang a bell on the desk, and an office boy appeared.

�This is Mr. Wallace,� said the girl. �Take him into Mr. Desmond's office.�

The boy conducted the applicant to a door at the other end of the large room. Perry Wallace, hat in

hand, was perplexed as he strode along. He had expected further questioning before being admitted to a

special interview. He wondered why he had made so effective an impression.

The boy knocked at a glass-paneled door that bore the name:

FRANK DESMOND

A voice responded from within. The boy opened the door and pointed to the inner room.

�This is Mr. Wallace,� he announced.

�Shut the door,� said Desmond.

Perry Wallace complied; then turned to look at his interviewer.

Frank Desmond was a bland sort of a man; big, pudgy, and narrow-eyed. He was seated behind a desk

in the center of the room, and he stared steadily at his visitor.

�Sit down, Mr. Wallace,� he said, after a short inspection. �I want to talk with you.�

Wallace dropped his hat on a table and took a chair opposite the employment manager.

�What is your experience?� questioned Desmond.

�Bank teller for the last three years,� answered Wallace mechanically. �Worked up-State�little town

called Halsworth. The bank went up. I came to New York. Figured a job��

�Before that?�

�Before I worked in the bank? I had a real-estate office with my uncle. Developing a summer resort. It

went sour. I landed a job with the bank.�

�And before that?�

�Just odd jobs. I was in the army during the War. Served in France. Came back. Tried various forms of

work; then joined up with my uncle.�

DESMOND, chin in hand, was staring firmly at his visitor. Wallace wondered about that stare. He knew

that Desmond was on the point of asking an important question. He could not divine what it might be.

�You say you served in the army,� remarked Desmond. �Did you enjoy the excitement?�

Perry's eyes gleamed.

�Sure thing!� he declared. �Say�if I saw another opportunity like that one, I'd hop to it in a minute!�

�I know of a job,� mused Desmond reflectively. �It will require nerve. It may mean danger. Most of all, it

demands obedience to orders. Would you take it �without question?�

Perry Wallace eyed his questioner narrowly. He scented a hidden meaning in Desmond's tone. Despite

the fact that he was down and out, he was not willing to commit himself unknowingly.

�I do not believe so, Mr. Desmond,� he said coldly.

�There is excellent compensation,� replied the employment agent.

Perry Wallace shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

�What of it?� he asked. �There is excellent compensation for many jobs. Murder, for instance.�

�This does not involve murder,� declared Desmond.

�Crime, then?� questioned Perry shrewdly.

Desmond leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands.

�What if it did involve crime?� he asked.

�I would not be interested!� declared Perry.

�Crime is not involved,� said Desmond slowly. �You, yourself, will not be responsible for anything that

may occur through your acceptance of the position which I have to offer. Is that sufficient?�

�Yes,� said Perry quietly. He rose from his chair and placed his hat upon his head. �It is quite sufficient,

Mr. Desmond. It convinces me that I do not want to take the job.�

Desmond's eyes flashed. He was furious. Perry Wallace smiled at the oddity of the situation. Desmond

chewed his puffy lips. Then, as he saw Perry turning toward the door, he smiled in return and raised his

hand.

�Wait!� he called.

Perry turned.

�I can tell you more about this job,� said the employment manager. �I can convince you that it would be

wise for you to accept it. Does that sound fair?�

�Certainly,� replied Perry.

Desmond opened a drawer in the desk. He drew out a gleaming revolver and pointed it directly at Perry

Wallace.

�Sit down!� ordered Desmond, in a low, rasping voice. �Sit down and listen. You understand?�

Perry was motionless for a moment. A rush of scattered thoughts passed through his brain. He did not

believe that Desmond would dare to fire; at the same time, he realized that the man was angry. A chance

shot might lead to disastrous consequences. Perry pictured himself in conflict with this man� people

rushing in�the burden placed upon him.

�All right,� he said calmly. �I'll listen.�

DESMOND thumped the revolver on the desk as Perry took his seat. The gun was close at hand. Perry

realized its threat. Desmond had spoken of danger. It was beginning now.

�One thousand dollars a week,� declared Desmond, in a low, emphatic tone. �Does that interest you,

Mr. Wallace?�

Perry smiled, but did not reply.

�If you have qualms��Desmond's voice was sneering��you can forget them. You are going to take this

job, Mr. Wallace. You're going to take it whether or not you like it�simply because you are the only

man who is suited to it!�

The offer of money had struck no responsive chord. Broke though he was, Perry Wallace was not

impressed. Desmond had threatened. He had tried to entice. In both he had failed. But, unwittingly, the

smug man had said something which aroused Perry Wallace's interest.

�You say I am the only man��Perry's tone was sharply quizzical� �the only man suited to this job?�

�Yes,� declared Desmond.

�Why?� asked Perry.

Desmond smiled cunningly.

�That,� he said emphatically, �is one thing that you will learn within five minutes after you take the offer.�

Perry began to nod reflectively. Desmond saw that he had gained a point. He spoke persuasively.

�Forget the thought of crime,� he said, in an easy tone. �If any occurs, it will not be your fault. I do not

know the details of this plan myself. I am simply acting for another. I have no qualms. Why should you?�

�Well�� Perry was hesitant.

�This gun is a threat,� declared Desmond quietly. �Whatever you do can be attributed to force. I am

threatening you now. That lets you out, if it comes to a show-down.�

�Perhaps.�

�Absolutely. It gives you a perfect alibi. You have no alternative. You say you like excitement. You say

you do not mind danger. You are on the verge of a real adventure�with a thousand dollars for every

week you are engaged. Your part will be an easy one. But�most important�you are the only man who

can play it!�

The strangeness of the situation had its effect. Perry Wallace arose. Frank Desmond reached for the

revolver.

�Drop it in your pocket,� said Perry. �Don't worry. I'm taking the job��

Desmond arose and proffered his hand. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he stared directly at Perry's

face. He pocketed the revolver and picked up the telephone.

�Do not send any one to my office until I call you again,� he ordered. �You understand, Miss Johnston?

Very well. Now give me this number��

Perry watched while Desmond spoke into the mouthpiece. The employment manager uttered only one

word.

�Right,� was all he said.

Then he hung up the phone. He beckoned to Perry and led the way to the side of the room. There he

opened the door of a closet and stepped in. Perry saw him press a hook. The wall of the closet slid

away. A passage was revealed beyond.

�Enter,� said Desmond.

Perry stepped forward. He passed the other man, and Desmond followed. The panel closed noiselessly.

Perry hesitated in the darkness. He felt Desmond press against him, and the muzzle of the revolver poked

his ribs.

It was a subtle threat; yet with it came inducing words. Desmond's voice was a crackly sound as it

growled in the darkness.

�Move ahead. Keep going. One thousand dollars a week.�

Half puzzled, half elated, Perry Wallace groped his way through the darkness of the narrow passage,

bound toward a strange adventure.

CHAPTER VII. LEGIRA'S DOUBLE

ALVAREZ LEGIRA was speaking in a whisper. His hand still upon the telephone that he had replaced

on the desk, he was muttering instructions to his secretary.

�This is what I have expected, Lopez,� he said. �The door is locked?�

Lopez nodded.

Legira motioned toward the closet in the corner of the room. The secretary followed as the consul

opened it and released the sliding panel.

Together they entered the passageway. The wall closed behind them. Legira led the way through the

darkness, until he stopped before another wall. Here, he pressed an unseen catch. The wall slid back,

and the two men entered a small room, which was illuminated through a frosted-glass skylight.

Lopez had been in this room before; and he had often wondered why the consul kept it. Presumably, it

was a dressing room. It had a table, with a mirror; and at the side hung a rack of clothing.

Lopez looked about him, wondering why his chief had brought him here. Then the secretary turned,

startled, as he heard a click at the other end of the room. A panel opened, and two men entered.

They were Desmond and Perry Wallace. Perry walked first; Desmond, close behind, held the gun against

Perry's back.

Alvarez Legira was quick as he glanced at the arrivals. His eyes were upon the taller of the two men. The

consul's face gleamed with satisfaction as he observed the countenance of Perry Wallace. Then, with a

broad smile, he turned to Frank Desmond.

�Excellent!� exclaimed Legira. �Excellent! Well done, Desmond. Who is this man?�

�His name is Perry Wallace,� explained Desmond. �Came this morning - after I had been passing up

possible applicants all week. Wallace, this is Mr. Legira.�

Perry extended his hand as Legira approached. The consul shook it warmly. He pointed to chairs against

the wall. The four men seated themselves. Perry appeared puzzled. Desmond was apprehensive.

Legira looked at Perry. Then he turned to Lopez.

�What do you think of it?� he questioned.

The secretary indulged in a broad smile.

�We look alike, eh?� quizzed Legira.

�Yes, senor,� said Lopez. �Very much alike.�

�Alike enough,� declared Legira.

He gazed shrewdly at Perry Wallace, who detected a peculiar gleam in the consul's eyes. Now, for the

first time, Legira seemed to express concern regarding the man whom Desmond had brought here.

�Your name is Wallace, eh?� he questioned. �It will be different from now. Look at me closely, my

friend. I am Alvarez Legira, consul from the Republic of Santander. In a few minutes, I shall no longer be

Alvarez Legira. You will be he�in place of me. You understand?�

THE South American drew a package of cigarettes from his pocket. He proffered one to his new

acquaintance. Perry Wallace accepted it. Legira, reaching into a drawer, produced a long holder identical

with the one he was using.

�Try this,� he suggested.

Perry inserted the cigarette in the holder, almost copying Legira's actions. The two men smoked away.

Perry sniffed the aroma of the strong tobacco.

�You like it, eh?� questioned Legira.

�Not particularly,� responded Perry.

�You must like it,� said the consul seriously. �Alvarez Legira smokes only that particular tobacco.�

Perry lowered his hand and stared steadily at the man before him. Legira smiled as he saw the firm glare

in Perry's eyes.

�What's the game?� demanded Perry. �You're counting me in a little too soon, Mr. Legira.�

�The game?� Legira's question was suave. �The game is one thousand dollars every week�paid to you,

Mr. Wallace�after you become Alvarez Legira.�

�Suppose I refuse?�

�You would refuse?� Legira's question was spoken in an incredulous tone. �Ah, you cannot refuse. It is a

golden opportunity!�

�Yes?� Perry's tone was challenging. �It looks phony to me. You want me to take your place. Is that the

idea?�

�Certainly.�

�Why? So that you may avoid trouble?�

�Exactly.�

�Well, it doesn't go!� declared Perry emphatically. �I'm not going into a trap for you or any one else!

Hold the bag yourself. Don't count on me��

�Very well,� said Legira quietly. �You have made a mistake, Desmond. This is not the gentleman whom

we need. You may take him back to your office. Bring another one�later.�

Desmond stared in amazement. A look of consternation appeared upon the face of Lopez. Perplexity

gripped Perry Wallace. Alvarez Legira arose as though the interview was ended.

�Just a moment,� said Perry suddenly. �I want to know about this. Mr. Desmond here tells me that I am

the only man for the job. You tell me you don't want me. What's the idea?�

�Mr. Desmond may be mistaken,� said Legira, with a smooth smile. �Perhaps I am the one who is

mistaken. I have business of my own� business which concerns me alone. I have also to be present in

New York as consul from Santander. How can that be possible?

�There is only one way. That is to have some one who can take my place, and who is willing to take my

place. You fill one requirement, but not the other. It is very unfortunate��

�Perhaps I was a bit hasty,� returned Perry. �Your proposition was not quite clear to me. As I now

understand it, you merely want me to appear here as a sort of figurehead, at a salary of one thousand

dollars a week.�

�Exactly,� returned Legira, in his most convincing tone. �There will be no duties that you cannot perform

with ease. Lopez, here, is secretary to the consul. He can manage all affairs. It will be an easy life for

you�the life of Alvarez Legira.�

�How long��

�For a few weeks. That is all.�

�And then��

�Then we shall find some other duties, for your real self. Perhaps the remuneration will not be so great;

but I can assure you it will be ample.

�While you serve for me��Legira's tone was impressive��you also serve the great Republic of

Santander. We of Santander do not forget those who have done our bidding!�

�All right,� declared Perry. �I'll chance it!�

LEGIRA acted with precision. He pointed to the clothing rack at the far end of the room. Lopez

motioned to Perry Wallace, who arose and followed him.

Fifteen minutes later, two men, both with dark eyes and pointed mustaches, stood facing each other,

garbed in clothes that appeared identical. The transformation of Perry Wallace had worked almost to

perfection. Even to Lopez, both bore the features and manner of Alvarez Legira.

The genuine consul raised his cigarette holder to his lips and blew a puff of smoke. He twisted the end of

his mustache with the fingers of his left hand. Perry Wallace copied the motions to exactitude.

�Wonderful!� declared Legira admiringly. �It is indeed wonderful.�

�It is remarkable,� returned Perry, in the same tone.

�Excellent!� exclaimed Legira.

�Excellent!� echoed Perry.

�You see?� said Legira, turning to Desmond. �I said it would not be difficult. New York is a great

city�it has far more people than has all Santander. There are thousands who would come to a place that

offered employment. Thousands�where I required but one. There are many who might recognize

Alvarez Legira. There are none who know him well, here in New York.

�This man is younger than myself, but the difference in age is not great. He will pass to perfection. With

Lopez to coach him, there can be no danger. But remember, we must keep silent.�

With that, the true Alvarez Legira peeled off his suit and donned the garments which Perry Wallace had

worn. A few motions, ruffled his smooth hair, and demolished the points of the well-waxed mustache.

�When I am away from here,� declared Legira, �I shall become myself again. You see?�

He smiled as he packed a suitcase that lay in the corner of the room. This work ended, he bowed to

Perry Wallace and Lopez. Then, with Desmond carrying the suitcase, he marched solemnly toward the

passage that led to the inner office of the employment agency.

A SHORT while later, two men left the office of the consul of Santander. One was Lopez; the other, to

all appearances, was Alvarez Legira. The secretary was talking to his chief. The consul was nodding as

he carried his smoking cigarette holder between the fingers of his right hand.

The pair lunched at a downtown restaurant. They returned to the office in the afternoon. Later, they dined

at another cafe. It was early evening when they alighted from a taxicab in front of the consular residence.

Any passer-by could have seen Alvarez Legira paying the cab driver, with Lopez standing beside him.

Hours later, a quiet voice spoke from a room in the house which adjoined the residence of Alvarez

Legira. It was Burbank, sending his report to The Shadow.

�Legira returned with Lopez at eight twenty-one,� were the words. �They have been in and out of the

room where the dictograph is located. No important conversation registered.�

Even Burbank, experienced agent of The Shadow, had been deceived by the substitution arranged by

Alvarez Legira through his unknown henchman, Frank Desmond. Seated at his window, Burbank could

see Martin Powell patrolling along the street. Beyond, a stealthy figure seemed to lurk at the entrance of

the alley, indicating the presence of Silk Dowdy.

The watchers of the night were still covering Alvarez Legira. To a man they had been completely baffled.

While they fancied that they held their quarry helpless, the true Alvarez Legira was at large.

Somewhere in New York, the real consul of Santander was free to proceed with his schemes, with none

to thwart him!

CHAPTER VIII. LEGIRA'S PROPOSAL

JOHN HENDRIX, financier, entered the spacious lobby of the Westerly Apartment, where he

maintained his uptown residence. He rode to the fourth floor in an elevator. There he rang a bell, and was

admitted by the solemn-faced Jermyn.

With a curt nod, the portly financier walked through the apartment, until he reached his office at the far

end. Jermyn followed him, and the two men stood together in a large and handsomely furnished room.

John Hendrix was a man who played an important part in many large enterprises. As a result, he seldom

appeared in the downtown offices where he held connections. He relied chiefly upon capable

subordinates.

Those who obeyed his dictates came frequently to his apartment, where he held conferences in this

office. Hendrix gave many orders by telephone, and, while he was away, he left matters temporarily in

the hands of Jermyn, who was the embodiment of secretarial efficiency.

This afternoon, Hendrix looked about his office; then sat down at a big desk, and began to go through a

list of papers that Jermyn had left for his consideration. Hendrix disposed of the papers one after another,

making terse statements that Jermyn appeared to understand.

Hendrix stopped suddenly as he came to one penciled notation. Jermyn watched his employer as

Hendrix read the sheet a second time. Then the financier swung in his swivel chair and faced his man.

�What did Mr. Legira have to say?� he questioned.

�Just what I have noted there, sir,� replied Jermyn. �He is very anxious to see you, sir. He called the

afternoon that you went out of town, and seemed very annoyed when I told him that you would not

return for two days.�

�Bah!� ejaculated Hendrix. �Why should he be annoyed? I waited for him one entire week, and heard

nothing from him. Why should he become hurried, of a sudden?�

�I do not know, sir. He left that telephone number that I have noted. He wants you to call there and ask

for Mr. Lengle. He acted as though it were quite urgent, sir.�

�It is urgent,� declared Hendrix thoughtfully. �Let me see��he glanced at his watch��three o'clock.

Suppose you call the number, Jermyn. If Legira is there and wants to speak to me, let me know.�

�Very well, sir.�

Jermyn went to a telephone, and put in the call. Hendrix heard him ask for Mr. Lengle. Then the servant

spoke to the financier, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone.

�He wishes to see you as soon as possible, sir. It is Mr. Legira.�

�Tell him to come here!� snapped Hendrix.

Jermyn relayed the message and hung up the telephone.

HENDRIX began to go over other papers, but tossed them aside, and arose from the chair. Pacing the

floor, he appeared to be perplexed, and Jermyn watched him with an air of apprehension.

�He wants to see me,� muttered Hendrix. �He is coming immediately, you say, Jermyn?�

�Yes, sir.�

�He did not state his business previously?�

�No, sir.�

�Of course not�of course not. I know his business. Nevertheless, this is a bit odd. Very irregular,

Jermyn�very. Our arrangement calls for me to deal with Legira, alone. That is fortunate for him. If the

others knew of this delay and this secrecy, there might be objections.�

�Mr. Legira was very secretive, sir,� observed Jermyn. �He asked that I say nothing whatever about his

call�that I speak only to you, sir.�

Hendrix nodded and continued his pacing. Then he returned to the desk, and busied himself with other

matters. His work was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Hendrix looked at Jermyn. The faithful

underling understood. This must be Legira. Jermyn left to answer the door.

He returned with Alvarez Legira in person. John Hendrix glanced askance at his visitor.

Usually well and smoothly groomed, Legira now formed a marked contrast to his usual self. His clothes

were rumpled, his face was poorly shaven, and his mustache was drooping. Yet his smile was suave as

he held out his hand to Hendrix.

�A surprise, eh?� he questioned quietly. �Ah, Mr. Hendrix, I am sorry that you were away. It has caused

me great inconvenience. Yet it will not matter greatly��

He paused and looked doubtingly at Jermyn.

�Proceed, Legira,� said Hendrix gruffly. �Jermyn is my confidential man. Do not worry about his being

here with me. What do you want, Legira?�

�The time has come for the delivery of the money,� declared the consul solemnly. �The shipment must be

made at once�in accordance with our agreement.�

�Very well. Where shall I send it?�

�I do not wish you to send it,� said Legira. �I wish to take it.�

The man's tone was suave as he began to curl the points of his disarrayed mustache. Hendrix blinked

solemnly. Legira smiled. In characteristic fashion, he produced his cigarette holder and a package of

cigarettes.

�This is irregular, Legira,� declared Hendrix, in a disapproving voice. �It was my understanding that I was

to arrange shipment of the funds when you requested it��

�That is not entirely correct,� interposed Legira. �The terms of agreement expressly called for final

negotiations to be terminated between ourselves. Thus I have given you my definite proposal. I should

like to obtain the ten million dollars this afternoon.�

As Hendrix appeared doubtful, Legira became insistent. He pressed his plea with all his accustomed

suavity.

�You have confidence in me,� he purred, �just as I have confidence in you. You are the agent of the

financiers; I am the agent of Santander. There is reason in my method. Hence I am relying upon you -�

�I should like to know the reason.�

Legira bowed and drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. He laid it upon the desk, and indicated a

tabulation with his forefinger.

�You see,� he said, �there are three ships that sail within the next four days. I intend to travel upon one of

them. I shall have the money in my custody. Every one of those boats either calls at a port near

Santander or connects with another ship that will serve my purpose.�

�Which one do you intend to take?�

�I do not know. That I shall decide later.�

�Legira��Hendrix spoke in an emphatic tone��this proposal calls for careful consideration. Our

payment of ten million dollars was based upon the belief that there could be no complications in a deal

transacted with the government of Santander. Your present actions indicate an uncertainty.�

Legira was cunning in his reply.

�Uncertainty with Santander?� he queried. �Indeed no, Mr. Hendrix. Your man here will tell you that I

called you two days ago. Had you been in town at that time, there would have been no difficulty. I had

made arrangements then.

�It was you who caused the uncertainty. Because of that, I thought it best to adjust my plans accordingly.

I had arranged passage on this ship��he indicated one on the list��but I canceled it for fear that I

would not be able to communicate with you in time. Canceled passages�with reengagements� are not

a good practice, Mr. Hendrix. That is why I have thought it best to be secretive.�

THE explanation was vague and unsatisfactory to Hendrix. Nevertheless, the financier was forced to

admit that he had been at fault. He could not question Legira's present actions, because he himself was

somewhat responsible. The shrewd South American saw that he had gained a point. He was quick to

press it.

�Why worry, Mr. Hendrix?� he asked quietly. �Nothing has arisen to change our negotiations. You are

authorized to give me the money; I am authorized to receive it. I have stated that I wish it now�so that I

may ship it as I see best.

�I understand Santander, Mr. Hendrix. False rumors there might lead to difficulties. It has seemed best

for me to deliver the ten million dollars in person. That is to your great advantage.�

�Perhaps,� agreed Hendrix. �But it might be best to call another conference.�

�No!� exclaimed Legira. �That would be a grave mistake. We settled our plans when we met before.

Steamship sailings have been a trouble to me. One week I was forced to wait for a suitable vessel. Now,

I have the opportunity to sail�but you have caused me a delay. It is wise to act at once; to let me do

however I have planned.�

Hendrix slowly opened a desk drawer. He took out a stack of papers. He began to go over them, while

Legira watched him craftily. Hendrix pondered on a typed agreement. Legira leaned close and indicated

certain paragraphs.

�You see?� he questioned in a low voice. �See there? It empowers us, as agents, to deal as we see

best��

�Certainly,� interposed Hendrix. �Nevertheless, it calls upon our mutual satisfaction with any proposed

arrangements. I am simply considering the limits of my power, Legira.�

�Ah!� Legira's voice was triumphant as he snatched a paper from the pile that Hendrix was holding. �You

have forgotten this, Mr. Hendrix! You will remember that it was in those papers which I submitted with

my plan!�

Hendrix looked at the paper. It bore the wording of a receipt, stating that Alvarez Legira had been

intrusted with the funds supplied by the New York financiers.

�Yes,� mused Hendrix, �I had forgotten this. I recall it now; we had it so that I or any other agent who

might take the money to Santander could deliver it to you there��

�It does not mention Santander,� interrupted Legira. �That paper was intended for such a situation as

this, Mr. Hendrix. If you will deliver the money to me, as I have just requested, I shall sign that document,

and thus relieve you of all responsibility.�

Hendrix was weakening. The discovery of the special paper among the other documents was a clinching

argument for Legira. With the tables swinging in his favor, the South American used all his natural gift of

persuasion.

�It is a matter of mutual trust and confidence,� he declared serenely. �You were chosen by your friends; I

was chosen by mine. I foresaw that the final negotiations in this matter could best be handled by two men

who saw alike.�

�Where were you when I called you by phone?� demanded Hendrix suddenly. �Who is Lengle?�

�Lengle is myself,� smiled Legira. �Surely, you must understand the situation, Mr. Hendrix. When I

realized that it would be necessary for me to go in person to Santander, I did not engage a passage in my

own name.�

�Why not?�

�Because I was not sure of you. The word might have reached my country that I was coming there�then

I would not appear. That would be very bad. It would create an impression of uncertainty. So I signed as

Lengle�Albert Lengle�and called you afterward.

�When I learned that you were out of town, I decided it would be best to remain as Lengle at the Corona

Hotel. I have been very careful while there, for I must not be recognized. You understand?�

�I don't like it,� said Hendrix bluntly.

�Perhaps it is because you do not understand our ways,� remarked Legira. �In Santander, there has been

much intrigue. We of that country know well that we must be careful in our dealings. I am giving you

assurance that all is well. It would be a great mistake for you to have doubts, Mr. Hendrix. My plans are

made. Why should they be destroyed?�

HENDRIX folded his arms and looked dubious. He stared at Legira, and the South American met his

glance with a frankness that was disarming. It seemed that Legira had a faculty for reading the thoughts of

others.

�You are wondering about my appearance,� said the South American, stroking his roughened chin. �Ah,

Mr. Hendrix, you forget that I have been staying at a hotel, wondering when I should hear from you�

waiting in anxiety.�

Hendrix nodded. His doubts were fading. He felt that he was confronted by a difficult problem.

He could not well refuse Legira's request. It would not be wise to consult with other members of the

financial group. Hendrix wanted a middle ground; and he found it.

�All right, Legira,� he said suddenly. �I can let you have the funds. How soon do you need them?�

�As soon as possible.�

�Where do you want them delivered?�

�I shall call for them.�

�Alone?�

�No. With my trusted man, Francisco.�

�Very well.�

Hendrix called Jermyn. He gave the man certain telephone numbers to call. As each of the numbers were

obtained, Hendrix took the telephone and gave orders to subordinates. Legira looked on, calmly

enjoying this display of efficiency, the manner in which the financier was arranging for the accumulation of

ten million dollars in cash and government bonds.

At length, the work was ended. Hendrix turned to Legira and indicated the paper which served as a

receipt.

�It would be best for you to sign this before you leave,� said the financier. �I have arranged for the funds

to be delivered to you at the Baltham Trust Company, to-night at nine o'clock. I shall give you a signed

order.

�You should leave here at quarter past eight. You can wait until then before signing the receipt. Unless, of

course, you feel that you should not sign the receipt until you have actually received the funds.�

Legira reached for the paper. He took a pen and affixed his signature to the bottom of the sheet.

�Your word is sufficient, Mr. Hendrix,� he said. �I consider the funds as already in my possession. I am

satisfied.�

Hendrix nodded in acknowledgment of the confidence which Legira felt. Everything had been done in fair

fashion. Legira had heard the discussion of all the arrangements.

�You will receive the ten million from Roger Cody,� declared Hendrix. �Since you have signed the

receipt, I shall give you the order now. Cody is my representative who will be at the Baltham Trust

Building. He will have the funds in a special box.�

�Excellent,� said Legira. �Now, I shall call my servant, Francisco. He is not at my residence. He left a

few days ago. May I use your telephone?�

�Certainly,� said Hendrix.

While Legira was calling, Hendrix leaned over the desk and began to write the order to Cody. He

inscribed a few paragraphs; then crumpled the paper and threw it away. He began again, and concluded

the work. Legira finished phoning; Hendrix blotted the paper and gave it to the South American.

�Come,� said Hendrix, in a friendly tone. �You will be my guest until quarter past eight. We can have

dinner served here. Let us go into the library. Perhaps you would like to see its unusual arrangements.�

Legira smiled as he accompanied the portly financier. He had good reason to feel elated. His persuasion

had accomplished much to-day.

Legira, as a schemer, felt a marked superiority over Hendrix, whose negotiations were all conducted in a

methodical, open manner. It had been an easy triumph. Hendrix and Jermyn! In Legira's estimation, they

were two simple souls who could not hatch even the ingredients of a conspiracy.

In that, the suave South American was mistaken. For while he and Hendrix were strolling through the

spacious apartment, Jermyn was busy back in the office. The solemn-faced servitor was opening the

crumpled paper that Hendrix had written and then tossed aside.

Instead of an incomplete order to Roger Cody, Jermyn discovered definite instructions.

Communicate with Martin Powell. Tell him to be here by eight fifteen. Important.

Also call Cody. Tell him funds must not be delivered until after nine o'clock. Hold until that time.

Jermyn indulged in a smile as he tossed the paper in the wastebasket. He had heard all that had passed

between Hendrix and Legira. Now, by a simple and effective method, the financier was planning to

frustrate Legira's schemes, should they be false.

Between eight fifteen and nine, Hendrix would confer with Powell. Should the financier and the

investigator decide against Legira, the suave consul from Santander would be balked. One word to

Roger Cody, over the telephone, would end any scheme for possession of the funds.

Yet Hendrix was managing this so artfully that Alvarez Legira could not possibly suspect the doubts

which the financier still maintained!

CHAPTER IX. THE LAST WARNING

DUSK had fallen. Two men stepped into the glare of the street lamp that lighted the front of Alvarez

Legira's residence. One bore the features of Legira. The other was the consul's secretary, Lopez.

Together, the men ascended the brownstone steps and entered the house.

They did not speak as they went up the stairs to the second floor. Perry Wallace, in his part of Alvarez

Legira, had become solemn and taciturn. Lopez, also, indulged in very little conversation. The secretary

seldom became loquacious in English, for he had little occasion to converse in the tongue.

To-night Lopez was suspicious. The empty house annoyed him. Francisco had left a few days before, in

unobtrusive fashion. Now, whenever Lopez entered, he became suspicious. Perry smiled at the sharp

glances which Lopez threw in all directions. They reached the little room on the second floor.

Perry sat down in a large chair, and drew his cigarette holder from his pocket. Lopez grinned.

Unconsciously, the false Alvarez Legira had adopted the habits of the real. Perry smiled, too, for despite

the monotony of his new work, he was enjoying this taste of luxury and pretense.

Lopez looked around the room with sharp eyes. Suddenly, he spied something by the window sill. It was

by a mere chance that he saw a thin green line that disappeared behind the radiator. Like a cat, the

sallow-faced secretary sprang across the room and snatched at the little wire. He pulled it away from the

wall, and his dark eyes flashed with anger as he pulled a knife from his pocket and severed the slender

connection.

Lopez stared at Perry. Legira's substitute returned the gaze in mild surprise. Suspicion and mistrust were

plain on the countenance of Lopez.

�Who has put that there?� he demanded.

�What is it?� asked Perry, trying to see what Lopez was holding.

�A piece of wire!� snarled Lopez. �It must be a telephone�that goes somewhere�outside!�

Perry arose and approached the window. Lopez stepped back suspiciously; then, as he surveyed Perry

closely, he decided that his companion was as surprised as he himself.

�Some one has been listening,� declared Lopez. �They can hear what is said in this place. I do not know

how long it has been here.�

�It doesn't matter,� said Perry. �I don't recall any conversations of importance. You and I have talked

very little, Lopez. Generally when riding in taxicabs, or dining at a hotel.�

�That is true,� admitted Lopez. �Yet this is very bad. It should not be here. It can make much trouble��

The secretary stopped suddenly as he heard the ring of the doorbell. He motioned to Perry to sit down in

the chair. Then, in stealthy fashion, Lopez went downstairs.

WHEN he returned, a few minutes later, Lopez wore a grave expression. He stared at Perry as though

undecided what to do. Then, leaning cautiously forward, he whispered brief words of instruction.

�This man who is here,� he said, �you must see him. His name is Pete Ballou. You will say but

little�understand? Keep me in this room with you. Be careful and let him make all the talk. Eh, senor?�

Perry nodded. Lopez went downstairs. In a few minutes, he returned with Pete Ballou. Perry looked up

while lighting a cigarette. He nodded a slight greeting to the stocky man.

Ballou took a chair and stared at Perry with steely eyes. Perry met the gaze. He gave no evidence of the

elation which he felt. He knew that Pete Ballou had no suspicion that this was not Alvarez Legira.

Lopez was starting toward the door. Perry called to him, in an easy manner, a perfect affectation of

Legira.

�Ah, Lopez!� The secretary turned at the words. �Perhaps it would be wise for you to stay here.�

Ballou threw a sidelong glance toward Lopez.

�You need him?� he demanded.

�Lopez is my secretary,� said Perry. �When I choose for him to be here, he remains.�

�Have it your own way,� remarked Ballou. �I guess he knows why I'm here, so it doesn't matter if he

sticks around. I've just come to remind you that time is getting short.�

Perry smiled and stared at a cloud of cigarette smoke.

�You've got until to-morrow midnight,� continued Ballou. �Savvy?�

�It is kind of you,� remarked Perry. �Very kind of you to come here to remind me.�

�Look here, Legira,� said Ballou, in a bulldozing tone, �there's been enough of this funny business. We

know that the deal has gone through. You've had plenty of time to get the dough. If you stall any longer, it

will be curtains for you.�

He paused, as though expecting a reply, but he received none. Ballou drew a sheet of paper from his

pocket and scrawled a few words upon it.

�There's where you can reach me,� he declared. �You've got to-morrow to get busy. If you let this slide,

we'll get you. There's no way out, Legira!�

Perry read the paper, folded it, and thrust it nonchalantly in his vest pocket. He leaned back in his chair

and stared thoughtfully beyond his visitor. Again, Ballou waited; still, Perry offered no comment.

�The terms still hold,� asserted Ballou. �Fifty-fifty is the deal. If you don't come across with the half we

want, we're going to take it all! That's final!�

�Very interesting,� observed Perry.

�You'll find it interesting!� declared Ballou. �I'm working for a man who knows plenty. We've got things

fixed down in Santander, and you don't have a chance. I'm telling you plenty, Legira.

�We know what you're figuring to do. Three boats sail within the next four days. You're out to dodge us

by shipping the dough on one of them. Maybe you figure you're going yourself. Well, all those boats are

covered. Get me?�

Perry smiled as he had seen Legira smile. Ballou waited with challenging attitude. When he realized that

nothing more was to be said, Ballou arose and started toward the door. He paused long enough to

deliver his final threat.

�You're phony, Legira,� he said. �You're pulling a big bluff. We know you too well. You're too smart to

let any one handle that money besides yourself. We've got you boxed.

�If you think you're crimping us, you're wrong. You're only crimping yourself. Fifty-fifty�that's your one

chance. If you try to get all, or if you stall so long that you won't get any, it will be curtains for you. Unless

we get our half, we're going to blow you off the map. To-morrow at midnight! That's the dead line!�

�Very well,� agreed Perry.

PETE BALLOU strode from the room. Lopez, sliding after him, formed an escort to the door. Perry

listened; then heard the secretary returning upstairs. When Lopez entered, he found Legira's double

resting leisurely in the chair.

�I watched from the window,� said Lopez. �I saw him go across the street, like a sneak��

The secretary paused abruptly. For a moment, Lopez, too, had been deceived by Perry's appearance.

He had started to speak as though he had been talking to Alvarez Legira. Without another word, Lopez

went from the little room. He was on his way to the front of the house to make further observations.

Perry, perplexed by all that had happened, looked about him in curious fashion. He spied the window,

and his gaze drifted to the broken piece of thin wire that Lopez had torn apart. The wire interested Perry.

He took the broken ends and touched one to the other to see if they would cause a spark. Suddenly

sensing that some one was close by, Perry dropped the wires and turned quickly to find himself facing

Lopez. The secretary had entered the room with unexpected stealth.

�So that is it!� snarled Lopez, his face livid with fury. �You have known about that! Perhaps you have put

it there!�

Perry leaned back against the wall and stared boldly at the South American. Lopez was vicious, his

hands trembling. He seemed ready to spring forward to a wild attack. Perry felt a mad antagonism

toward the man. He showed it in his expression, for Lopez, though thoroughly enraged, kept his distance.