another sap, in Henshew's opinion.
The sour note was Harry Vincent. Who was this fellow Vincent? He had been smart enough to look for Moy Ming, Henshew's messenger who contacted Shark. Whoever Vincent was, he knew too much.
Henshew would settle that.
Henshew made a quick change into a tuxedo, then came back to his writing desk. Fitting a magnifying lens to his right eye, he used a tiny-pointed engraving tool and scratched a microscopic message on a half dollar. Pocketing the coin, Henshew left the apartment.
During the ride to Chanbury's, Henshew thought of The Shadow and ended his speculations with a laugh of dismissal. The Shadow was nothing more than a masquerader who shot it out with crooks. He had bagged Hood Bleeth and made more trouble later, but he would never get Shark Meglo.
Shark was too smart for The Shadow. Since Henshew considered himself smarter than Shark, it followed that he, too, was beyond The Shadow's reach. Unless spies like Vincent made trouble.
Henshew smiled at the thought. He had a sure cure for Vincent.
CHANBURY'S mansion was on Long Island. It was big, pretentious, well isolated. Henshew entered to find that house sprinkled with bowing servants. He was ushered down a long flight of marble stairs through a picture gallery to an anteroom beyond.
A smiling girl introduced herself as Miss Merwood, and said that she was Chanbury's secretary. She was a pronounced brunette with dark eyes that had a dash of languor. Henshew gave her a chummy smile as she led him into a room that served as Chanbury's den.
The room was square with oak-paneled walls. It was adorned with large portraits of cavaliers and rufflenecked courtiers who stared from the walls like silent observers of the living persons present. The furniture was heavy and expensive, but comfortable. Like all of Chanbury's belongings, it spoke of wealth.
That pleased Henshew. He began to consider Chanbury as a future prospect in the jewel market.
Joe Cardona was present. He introduced Henshew to Chanbury, then to Harry Vincent. Henshew eyed The Shadow's agent steadily; then turned to meet a tall stoop-shouldered man. This fellow was Jim Tyrune, the private detective who had furnished the news regarding Silsam's insurance.
Henshew promptly classed him a glorified snooper who fancied himself a first-rate criminal investigator.
The secretary was waiting at the doorway. Chanbury gave a nod of dismissal. When the girl had gone he remarked to Henshew:
'I see you like my secretary.'
Henshew smiled; but decided that he would control his facial expressions in Chanbury's presence. The art collector had a keen look. As the door closed Chanbury added:
'She is very competent and loyal. Her name is Eleanor Merwood. Her uncle was an old friend of mine.
Probably you remember him; Stanley Merwood, another art collector like myself.'
'The fellow who committed suicide?' spoke up Tyrune. 'After he found out that half his art collection was phony?'
'Yes,' replied Chanbury. 'Poor Stanley! How often I advised him not to buy paintings that he thought were genuine. I can tell a fake picture by the smell of its oil. I warned others too, who would not listen.
But let us forget art. We are here to discuss jewels.'
In his subtlest fashion Henshew dropped the question: 'You collect jewels also, Mr. Chanbury?'
'Yes,' returned Chanbury. 'I think that is why Silsam insisted upon showing me his gems that night when the robbery occurred. It is too bad that Silsam died, after Vincent had driven off the crooks.'
Harry smilingly accepted credit. Chanbury had been groggy at the time The Shadow struck the hardest blows. To Henshew, Harry's smile meant much. It supported the crime leader's theory that Harry was working with The Shadow.
With the subject definitely centered on Silsam's jewels, Joe Cardona asked Henshew to repeat his statements of the afternoon. Henshew did so in his most convincing fashion, looking from man to man as he spoke. Cardona was as impressed as before; and Tyrune agreed with everything that Henshew said.
Seeing that he had the police inspector and the private detective clinched, Henshew watched for the effect upon the other listeners.
Michael Chanbury appeared to be taking everything at the face value that Henshew gave it, although the art collector showed very little expression. Harry Vincent, however, was visibly sold on Henshew's opinions. It was not long before the crooked jewel broker knew absolutely that he could number The Shadow's agent with those who completely believed him.
'You've paved the way for us, Mr. Henshew,' declared Cardona, in a complimentary tone. 'We're going to turn New York inside out, until we've found the crook we're after. We'll quiz every fake jeweler in the city!'
THAT decided, Cardona asked for Tyrune's list of Silsam's gems. It tallied quite closely with the bill of sale that bore the name of the Oceanic Gem Co. Henshew compared the lists himself and expressed the opinion that it would be impossible for the swindler to dispose of the gems again.
'Make these public,' he advised. 'In that way, you will prevent further murder.'
Again, Cardona thanked Henshew for giving an excellent suggestion. Inwardly, Henshew felt new elation.
His gems, when he was through with them, would be far different from the jewels that were under suspicion.
Chanbury raised the only point that worried Henshew. The art collector asked Tyrune the full value of the stolen jewels. The private dick replied that Silsam had insured them for two hundred thousand dollars.
An appraiser from the insurance company had allowed that value, after inspecting the stones.
Henshew knew at once that the appraiser must have recognized the true worth of the jewels as at least a quarter million. If the point had been pressed, it would have brought a discussion concerning the feature that enabled Henshew to make his quick sales; namely, his method of offering the jewels for much less than they were worth.
Chanbury, however, was satisfied with Tyrune's statement. The matter was promptly dropped.
The conference ended. Chanbury ordered drinks; and every one indulged in other talk. During the conversation, Henshew kept listening for one fact he wanted. At last he heard it while Chanbury was chatting with Harry Vincent. The fact popped out that Harry was living at the Hotel Metrolite and intended to go there as soon as he reached Manhattan.
It was not long before Henshew glanced at his watch and decided that he must be returning home.
Chanbury summoned Eleanor and told her to call a cab. As he shook hands with Henshew, Chanbury remarked, with a smile:
'Silsam's experience may deter some persons from buying gems. To me it simply repeats the old lesson: be sure with whom you deal. Which means, Mr. Henshew, that when I am in the market, I shall call upon you. I always buy from persons of highest repute in their particular field.'
Henshew was profuse with thanks. He even forgot to greet Eleanor with an ogling smile, when she came to announce that the cab had arrived.
ONCE in the taxi, Henshew rode to Manhattan - to Times Square. There, he chose another cab and gave the driver an East Side address. Henshew's new destination was close to Shark's present hide-out.
Leaving the cab, Henshew waited near a dully lighted corner until he saw an approaching newsboy. He accosted the newsie with the question:
'Have you change for a half dollar, boy?'
The newsie didn't. He wanted to make the sale though. Henshew looked to the second story above a darkened pool room and pointed out a window shade that showed a trickle of light.
'I guess that's where the owner lives,' he said. 'He's still up. Take this half dollar and ask him for change.'
The newsboy went up a darkened stairway. Henshew shifted away, ready for a run. The place was Shark's hide-out; and Shark was apt to use a gun if he felt jittery. That explained why Henshew had chosen not to rap on Shark's door in person.
There was a three-minute wait. The newsboy returned with the change including some pennies. Henshew bought the newspaper and walked westward to find another cab. His next move was to return to his apartment as promptly as possible and call in some friends who lived in the same building.
