asked me -'
'About the money!' snapped Melbrun. 'And like an idiot, you told them!'
'But they knew about it,' insisted Kelson. 'They mentioned the armored truck that was coming here, and the fact that the Anitoga was due to dock.'
Melbrun stroked his chin, reflectively. Anger faded from his eyes; still, his tone was brusque.
'I can't hold you to blame,' he told Kelson. 'Still, I wish that you had used better sense. It isn't wise to let a whole city know when you have a hundred thousand dollars in your custody.'
Turning to a large safe behind his massive desk, Melbrun turned the combination. Kelson watched, his face quite worried, while the importer opened a metal box that contained stacks of currency.
Melbrun was thumbing through the cash, nodding because he found it quite intact, when he noticed Kelson watching him.
'Don't stand there stupidly!' snapped Melbrun. 'Go to the outside office, Kelson, and tell the rest of the employees about the money. Show them the newspaper, and admit that it was partly your mistake. Explain that I kept the matter secret so they would not worry. But since all New York knows that I have
the money here, the office staff should be informed.'
BY the time Kelson had given the news to the interested office force, Melbrun appeared. He was carrying a suitcase that he always took on business trips. He laid it aside, while he assembled the employees and took up the story
where Kelson had left off.
'The truck will be here at eight,' announced Melbrun. 'It will take the money directly to the pier, because the Anitoga will be docked by then. I shall
be at the pier, and afterward, I intend to leave on a business trip to Boston.
'Meanwhile, I am depending upon all of you to be watchful. I have placed detectives on duty, and the job is really theirs; but, since you know the facts, I expect your cooperation. Remember to keep at your work, as usual; receive any visitors cordially and in the accustomed fashion.
'But watch them! If you have any suspicions of anyone, report promptly to Kelson. This newspaper story means that we must adopt additional precautions.
I
shall tell the detectives that they can depend on all of you, if needed.'
Before leaving, Melbrun called police headquarters and talked to an inspector named Joe Cardona. From Melbrun's conversation, the office workers learned that Inspector Cardona was the official in charge of arrangements at the pier; that everything was satisfactory there.
However, Cardona had seen the newspaper account and agreed with Melbrun that there might be an earlier danger.
Over the phone, they concluded new arrangements, which were satisfactory to Melbrun. His call finished, the exporter sat at Kelson's desk, stroking his firm jaw and nodding in a musing fashion. Finally, Melbrun arose and picked up his suitcase.
'Inspector Cardona is detailing two men to watch the building,' he explained. 'That will give us added protection outside, as well as in here.
Later, the inspector will arrive in person, and he has promised to have a full squad on duty by the time the armored truck appears.
'I am depending upon you, Kelson.' Melbrun turned to the sallow secretary.
'You have the combination to my safe. But do not open it until Inspector Cardona
gives the word. Turn over the cash box to him, for delivery at the pier.'
As he concluded, Melbrun dangled a ring of keys, and Kelson nodded at sight of one he recognized. It was the key to the cash box in the safe, a special key that had no duplicate. The contents of the cash box would certainly
be intact, when the box itself was delivered to Melbrun at the pier.
Methodical to the last degree, Arnold Melbrun contacted the private detectives as he left the office, and told them of the amplified arrangements.
As he entered his waiting car, Melbrun glanced at his watch and noted that the time was five twenty.
His suitcase on the seat beside him, he glanced back at the office building as he rode away. Despite his new precautions, Melbrun's face looked troubled.
The day was cloudy. Early dusk was already gathering about the building, where only a few lights remained, those of the exporting offices. Though the building was not large, it had taken on a vast appearance against the darkening
sky, and other buildings looked like crouching creatures, ready to devour it.
Melbrun could picture certain loopholes in his plans, and he wondered just
how well he had provided against them. Nevertheless, his final expression was a
smile, which he delivered as his car neared a hotel not far from his office building.
The custody of one hundred thousand dollars was no longer weighing heavily
on Arnold Melbrun, as he strolled into the hotel and left his suitcase at the check room.
If crime should come, Melbrun was quite sure that crooks would be disappointed as a result of his precautions, plus those provided by the law.
In fact, there seemed but little reason why anyone should be worried about
crime in Manhattan. It had been spiked very effectively during recent months, and New York City, criminally speaking, was much like a millpond. Such calmness, however, necessarily had an answer.
THE answer, at that moment, was riding in a large limousine that was coming across the New Jersey Skyway, en route to the Holland Tunnel entrance to
New York City.
His name was Lamont Cranston and he was a gentleman of leisurely manner, who seemed quite at home in his elegant surroundings.
Cranston's face was hawkish, and had a masklike appearance. When he was alone, and therefore unobserved, Cranston's eyes often took on a burning glint;
their gaze became a piercing sort that seemed capable of penetrating darkness.
Had certain persons seen him at such moments, they would have realized that this person who posed as Lamont Cranston was actually The Shadow.
His was the hand that banished crime. The Shadow was the reason why the law prevailed. He had weighed the balance in justice's favor, and was keeping it there. This present trip, at dusk, was another evidence of his foresight.
The Shadow had learned of the cash that was in Melbrun's custody. He recognized its importance. Not only was it the very sort of loot that crooks would most prefer; the theft of that cash would mean something more. It would mark crime's comeback. A criminal thrust, involving sure, quick profit, would embolden hordes of skulking mobsters throughout Manhattan.
Long had human rats been waiting, hoping for the call of some Pied Piper who would lead them anew along a route of crime. They would be willing, ready, to follow such a leader blindly, once he proved himself a master of crime.
To start a new reign of crime, a supercrook would first have to score a success despite The Shadow. Melbrun's money would prove a great inducement for anyone who sought to be an overlord of crime.
Leaning forward a bit, Cranston thumbed a dial. A voice came across the air, tuned in by short-wave radio. It was the quiet tone of Burbank, The Shadow's contact man, giving reports from various of The Shadow's secret agents. They had checked the news account in the afternoon paper and had not determined the source of the leak.
There were many channels through which it could have come. It might have drifted from some shipping office, or been given out by someone with the steamship company. The banks which supplied the cash knew all about it, as did the trucking company which was to furnish the armored car.
Any one of several dozen persons could have been responsible, but that did
