another; on that sheet he listed his new discovery.
Strampf had figured that The Shadow would be present at the court hearing; but he would never have guessed The Shadow's guise except for that chance photograph. Once learned, the whole case intrigued Strampf by the perfect way in which it fitted.
The Shadow, a friend of the police commissioner!
What could be better, from The Shadow's standpoint? It told Strampf something that he had guessed, but had not been sure about - that The Shadow had some way of keeping track of the law's moves, to time his own operations.
The dual identity also explained how The Shadow gained such quick inside information regarding everything that the law uncovered in regard to crime.
His sheets complete, Strampf reached for a telephone. He called a number; a girl's voice replied in the monotone of a switchboard operator:
'Office of the Solidarity Insurance Company -'
'Mr. Strampf calling,' informed the cadaverous man. 'I want to talk to Mr. Bradthaw.'
'Mr. Bradthaw is out to lunch. He will return at two o'clock.'
'Leave word for him to expect me by half past two. With this message: Tell him that I have all the information that he requires.'
'Very well, Mr. Strampf.'
As he hung up the receiver, Strampf leaned back in his chair. His bony fingers strummed the strewn papers that cluttered the table edge. There was something ominous in the soft tattoo that Strampf's fingers pounded.
It signified trouble for The Shadow. Strampf had uncovered the cloaked sleuth's choicest secret. When that news reached Bradthaw, there would be action. Strampf knew well Bradthaw's methods. They were the sort that brooked no delay.
Thanks to Strampf, a master-crook would be able to find The Shadow, at whatever time the superplotter might choose.
CHAPTER IX. CRIME'S PROFITEER
Two o'clock. Marvin Bradthaw, president of the Solidarity Insurance Company, had returned to his office. He was seated there, peering through the window toward the neighboring skyscrapers of lower Manhattan.
Marvin Bradthaw had the appearance of a man who typified huge commercial success. His face was rugged, with the square jaw that marked a firm executive temperament. His steel-gray eyes were almost the color of his smooth-parted hair. His lips had a slightly compressed appearance, indicating that they never spoke except when Bradthaw had chosen his exact words.
Bradthaw's elbow was on the desk. His smooth-shaven chin was resting in hand. Not only was he the picture of success, facts marked him as a giant in the insurance world. The Solidarity had a high reputation with all underwriters. It controlled companies that handled casualty, automobile and fire insurance.
Credit for the rise of the Solidarity Insurance Company belonged entirely to Marvin Bradthaw. His company owned this forty-story building, the Solidarity Tower. The offices of the company occupied the ten top stories; and Bradthaw's own office was on the fortieth. It was the highest spot in the building, except the observation room just above; and that was closed to visitors.
Bradthaw was a man with a huge income. He had every right to look pleased as he gazed from his high- situated office window. Instead, the famed insurance magnate had a disgruntled air.
He was not at all satisfied with business conditions. Casualty, automobile and fire were showing their proper profits; but another branch of the business had gone bad.
That particular type of insurance was unknown to the world at large. Yet Bradthaw regarded it as more important - and more profitable - than all other forms of insurance combined. He had planned it with the definite prospect of netting a yearly profit of ten million dollars.
Those figures were never to be made public. Bradthaw's secret enterprise was unheard of, startling to the last degree. It was covered with the utmost care.
Bradthaw's biggest business was crime insurance!
A BUZZER sounded on Bradthaw's desk. The executive picked up a telephone from its cradle; learned that Mr. Louis Caudrey had called to see him. Bradthaw announced that he would see Caudrey at once.
After he gave that order, he compressed his lips with a tight smile.
Caudrey was the actuary who had figured the premium payments necessary in insuring crime. Bradthaw had not expected Caudrey, but he was glad that the man was here. He needed Caudrey's services.
Louis Caudrey entered. He was a droopy sort of man who looked older than his age. Hollowed checks spoiled the rounded contour of his face; his eyes looked dull and tired, because of their heavy lids.
It was seldom that Caudrey discarded that manner; but he felt free to do so in Bradthaw's presence.
Caudrey became eager, the moment that he sat down.
'I'll tell you why I'm here, Bradthaw,' said Caudrey, in a high choppy tone. 'I've uncovered a big deal; and I'm going to handle it -'
'Crime?' queried Bradthaw, in a modulated basso. 'A bit out of your line, Caudrey.'
'You've guessed it.' Caudrey pursed his lips into a smile. 'Yes, I've gone in for crime, if you want to call it that. I just happened on the proposition, through sheer luck!'
Bradthaw said nothing. Caudrey decided that the insurance magnate would be interested in the details.
Caudrey gave them.
'I do a great deal of specialized work for attorneys,' he stated. 'My specialty is straightening out the financial figures of estates, when deceased persons leave them badly mixed. Recently, I worked for a lawyer named Reddingham. He gave me a boxful of unexamined papers that had belonged to Seth Melrue.'
So far Bradthaw looked unimpressed. Caudrey's eyes twinkled at thought of the surprise that he was about to produce.
'A million dollars was divided between George Melrue and his sister Francine. Seth Melrue was their uncle. The old man left his house to a friend named Wilmot. It happens that Wilmot was already dead, so the house went to the heirs.
'I began to find things when I went through the papers. Facts that even the lawyer, Reddingham, didn't know. They were explained when I found a sealed envelope addressed to Wilmot. I opened it and found a message that explained the rest.'
Enthusiastically, Caudrey leaned across Bradthaw's big-topped desk, to wag a finger as he declared:
'There's three million dollars sealed up in a wall of that mansion! Money that old Melrue wanted his friend Wilmot to have! The old man was afraid to state it in his will, fearing that the nephew and niece would protest.'
INSTEAD of sharing Caudrey's enthusiasm, Bradthaw merely reached for a box of cigars. He proffered one to his visitor and lighted another for himself. In his careful tone, Bradthaw announced:
'Those facts do not interest me, Caudrey.'
Caudrey flattened back in his chair, too astounded to speak. At last, he exploded.
'Don't you understand?' he demanded. 'I'm going to get the three million! I'm buying the house through a proxy named Hurden. I'll have workers - the right type - open the wall for me. But there are many details that might cause complications. That's why I want to insure the enterprise.'
Bradthaw shook his head. Caudrey couldn't understand.
'It comes under the head of crime insurance,' he insisted. 'I can supply you with all proof necessary for you to insure the case. It will come under Preferred Class, Triple A. A ten per cent premium, amounting to three hundred thousand dollars.
'In Preferred policies, particularly Triple A, you allow the policyholder to pay after the crime is completed. If it misses - as such cases rarely do - you pay the face of the policy and deduct the premium.
I shall request that in this instance. Quite a usual procedure, Bradthaw.'
Bradthaw's head finished its shake.
'We are issuing no more Preferred policies,' declared the insurance magnate. 'The best that I can do, Caudrey, is give you a policy in the Risk Group. The premium will be fifty per cent. Half of the three million that you hope to acquire.'
'I - I can't understand that,' sputtered Caudrey. 'You can't mean it, Bradthaw! Why, I - I know the insurance
