THE SILENT DEATH
Maxwell Grant
CHAPTER I. EYES OF EVIL
THE lights of uptown Manhattan cast a vivid, fantastic glow when viewed from the window of the little
office high in the towering Brinton Building. But the man who stood within the darkness of that
thirtieth-floor room was not concerned with the spectacle of man-made brilliance. His eyes were focused
upon the top stories of a huge apartment building across the street.
The apartment structure was capped by a penthouse, from which a few lights gleamed. One corner of the
penthouse, which rose flush with the sheer wall of the building, was the spot which this unseen observer
found most interesting.
A match glimmered in a cupped hand. As the flame ignited a cigarette, it showed a rough, hardened face.
The match went out, and the watcher puffed his cigarette. As the glowing tip descended from his lips, the
man emitted an evil snarl that went well with his countenance.
A rap at the door. The man by the window flicked his cigarette through the opening. He closed the
window and drew the shade. He hurried to the door and switched on the light just as a second furtive rap
was given. The man within the room opened the door, to admit a hasty visitor.
The new illumination plainly revealed the two men as characters of a strangely different type. The
individual who had been standing in the darkness was short and stocky a ruffian in all save dress. His
well-groomed appearance did not fit his pudge-nosed, hard-lipped countenance, which bore a wicked,
leering smirk.
The arrival, tall and stoop-shouldered, was a gray-haired man who possessed a marked dignity. His
gaunt face showed firmness in spite of declining years. Only in one feature did he resemble the man who
had been waiting in the office. His eyes, like those of the other man, gleamed with cunning and evil.
THE stocky, hard-mannered individual was the first to speak. In a voice which was suave, despite its
harshness, he questioned the visitor's identity.
'You are Thomas Jocelyn?'
'Yes,' responded the elderly man, still eyeing his questioner. 'You, I presume, are Larry Ricordo?'
'That's me,' answered the harsh-voiced man, with a grin. 'Sit down and make yourself easy.'
Thomas Jocelyn seated himself in a chair beside a table in the center of the room. He leaned solemnly
upon his gold-headed cane and stared at Ricordo.
'Where is Folcroft Urlich?' he inquired.
'The professor will he here soon,' replied Ricordo, while lighting another cigarette. 'I came early — to
open the office. Plenty of time yet.'
Jocelyn contented himself with the one question. He appeared nervous, despite his composed manner.
For several minutes, Ricordo stood expectantly, thinking that the old man intended to make a new
inquiry. Finally, with a gruff laugh, Ricordo slouched into a chair.
'Well,' he remarked, 'we're all set. We're going to see the wheels run round to-night. Picking this office
was a cinch.'
As Jocelyn made no comment, Ricordo desisted after the one attempt to open conversation. He eyed
Jocelyn almost contemptuously, but did nothing to arouse antagonism. When a firm knock sounded at the
door, Ricordo leaped to his feet and went to admit the next visitor.
The newcomer completed an odd triumvirate. He was of medium height, dark-haired and of stern visage.
He wore a small hat, and his hair formed a flowing mop above a bulging forehead. His face, sallow and
hollow-cheeked, resembled a living skull from which a pair of sharp, greenish eyes peered with evil gaze.
This man smiled broadly as he perceived the two already in the room. He threw off his overcoat and
advanced with outstretched hand, his mouth forming an ugly, irregular slit as the smile continued.
'Ah!' croaked the new visitor. 'Both here, eh? My friends, Jocelyn and Ricordo. You are both friends by
now, I hope. That is well. We all have much in common.'
'Good evening, Urlich,' said Jocelyn, in a calm tone.
'Hello, professor,' grinned Ricordo. 'All set. Want to see the lay?'
'Not yet' — the professor's tone was reproving—'not yet. There is time to spare. It is well that we talk
first.'
He seated himself and looked from one man to the other. Leaning back, still smiling, Professor Folcroft
Urlich emitted a cackling laugh of satisfaction. It brought a grin from Ricordo, a nervous shrug from
Jocelyn.
'So,' declared Urlich. 'We shall see our first plan work, eh? We are obliged to Ricordo, eh, Jocelyn? He
has arranged very well.'
'I do not relish it,' objected Jocelyn, in a testy tone. 'This is not my business, Urlich. I do not disapprove
of death, where it is necessary; but to be a witness — '
Professor Urlich held up his hand by way of interruption. Jocelyn subsided while Ricordo glared
maliciously.
'You can end such qualms, Jocelyn,' stated the professor, 'and it is well that you should do so at the
start. That is one reason why I have summoned you here to-night. The other is that we may discuss our
plans plainly. I want no misunderstanding later on.
'Death is my idea. To a scientist such as myself, human life is a mass. The ego must be forgotten. What is
one life? Nothing. But one death' — as Urlich paused, the smile writhed snakelike across his lips — 'may
mean much to those who live to profit by it.
'Death means millions to the three of us. Millions! Do you understand, Jocelyn? Death paves our
way — and I am the master who provides death. But one who provides death requires human tools.
Ricordo has brought those instruments. Moreover, one who provides death wisely must have a chance
for gain — and you bring that opportunity, Jocelyn.'
The dignified man nodded. He chewed his lips thoughtfully; then his eyes lighted as though the talk of gain
had served as inspiration.
PROFESSOR URLICH leered as though he had read the old man's mind.
'That we may all understand,' continued Urlich, lowering his evil tones, 'I shall recapitulate the desires
which have brought us together. For years I have taken life — seldom the life of human beings, I admit;
but life, just the same. I do not quail at the thought of taking human life. To me, it is experimentation on a
higher plane.
'Ricordo has chosen a career of crime. He is criminal by instinct, shrewd in all his dealings. He knows
how to control and utilize men of the criminal type. Therefore, he is following his inclinations.
