be a solution to the riddle of their malady. Other forms of sleeping sickness had been cured; this strange stupor, deathlike though it was, might be banished once it was fully understood. Perhaps its creator knew the antidote!
Considering all that, The Shadow began to list the names of big-shots who might be managing the game.
Quill Baxton, however, did not appear on the list. James Mandor had spoken correctly, in stating that Quill was not likely to be suspected.
The Shadow put the list away. His fingers felt the rubber block. It was an item that crooks had overlooked, but it might prove a cross-clue more important than the shreds of evidence that they had carried away.
A chubby-faced man entered the grillroom. He saw Cranston and approached the table. The arrival was Rutledge Mann, an insurance broker; also an agent of The Shadow. Mann also had a good knowledge of finance.
Mann knew Cranston. He had received a telephone call from the millionaire, asking him to come here.
But Mann, himself, was not sure that Cranston was The Shadow. There were times when Mann considered Cranston to be another agent, like himself.
Briefly, Cranston spoke of the Dead Who Lived, as though repeating news that had been given to him.
Mann had read of the first two cases; he was surprised to hear of Mandor's plight.
'Thurnig had twenty thousand dollars,' remarked Cranston. 'The money was in cash. It will interest you, Mann, to learn that Brellick also had twenty thousand available. He had negotiated a loan to complete that amount.'
Mann's eyes opened.
'After learning of Thurnig's illness,' resumed Cranston, 'Brellick proceeded to raise ten thousand more.
At least, that was his intention when he was stricken. What is your opinion, Mann?'
Mann considered. He was sure that Cranston already had an answer, but merely wanted to see if another viewpoint coincided.
'Each intended to put twenty thousand into some enterprise,' decided Mann. 'When Brellick learned that Thurnig was out of it, he was greedy enough to guess that he could take over Thurnig's share.'
'Not all of it,' reminded Cranston. 'Only half.'
'Only half,' repeated Mann. 'Which means that there must have been three partners concerned. Three men putting up twenty thousand each. Reduced to two, would mean thirty thousand each.
'And from the facts that you have related' - Mann's eyes were owlish as he spoke - 'I would say that the third man was Mandor. Moreover, from Mandor's reputation as a promoter, he would be the one who was pushing the scheme.'
CRANSTON'S nod showed that Mann's opinion fitted with his own. He asked Mann if there had been recent talk of transactions in which James Mandor was involved. Mann knew of none, and explained his ignorance.
Mandor, it seemed, kept all his schemes under cover until they were ripe. When he took in partners, he held them to the same secrecy. Sometimes he made money, other times he lost. Always, though, he shared with the others; that was why he never had trouble getting partners.
Mandor liked quick clean-ups; things that offered rapid return. He never cared to acquire controlling interests in new companies, because he always sold out his own share after the first big profit.
Unquestionably, Mandor could raise twenty or thirty thousand dollars, although it was known that he was getting short on funds. Those facts made a deal with Thurnig and Brellick seem quite plausible; but Mann couldn't guess what scheme was under way.
Cranston's hand came from his pocket. It dropped the chunky square of blackish substance. Picking the block from the table, Mann examined it. He heard Cranston say:
'That came from Mandor's desk.'
'Rubber!' exclaimed Mann. 'But Mandor isn't big enough to crash the rubber market!'
'Examine it more closely, Mann.'
Mann did. He noted that the substance had a peculiar sponginess. It was made of a zigzagged meshwork that formed connected layers.
'You never saw rubber like that,' remarked Cranston. 'This substance is synthetic.'
Mann's eyes showed a reminiscent gleam.
'Synthetic rubber,' he mused. 'I remember a stock that was offered on the market, then withdrawn -'
'Such a product,' inserted Cranston, 'would require an inventor.'
'There was one. His name was mentioned in the prospectus. Professor Uriah Lawsham; he lives here in New York.'
Cranston arose, rested his hand on Mann's shoulder.
'Locate Lawsham,' he ordered. 'Make an appointment. Say that you will bring an investor who is interested in his invention.'
Mann was still nodding when he realized that Cranston's hand had left his shoulder. Looking about, Mann blinked. His friend had gone from the grillroom. That was not all that kept Mann agape.
From somewhere, he fancied that he heard the quiver of a whispered tone; the echo of a mysterious mirth. It reminded him of an eerie sound that he remembered from the past.
The laugh of The Shadow!
CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW'S VISIT
IT wasn't Cranston who met Mann early the next evening, to keep an appointment that the insurance broker had made with Professor Lawsham. Instead, Mann was joined by a person that he had met only a few times in the past; an individual named Kent Allard.
Tall, with long, thin features, Allard's face had a hawkish appearance; but it differed from Cranston's countenance. Mann could never have guessed that the two persons were the same. He felt that though Cranston might possibly be The Shadow, Allard could never be.
Kent Allard was an aviator who had been stranded in Guatemala during many of the years when The Shadow had been active in New York. But Mann - like everyone else - was totally deceived by that story. Kent Allard had actually spent very little time in Central America. He had created the story to cover the all-important fact that he - Kent Allard - was none other than The Shadow.
For once, Mann was traveling with The Shadow when his chief was undisguised. But Mann had no idea that such a case existed.
On the way to Lawsham's, Mann thought he had learned the reason why Allard had been selected for this duty. Allard talked methodically of the Castilla tree of Central America - a species of rubber tree less valuable than the Hevea of South America, but one with which Allard was specially familiar.
Allard, it seemed, was well-versed on the subject of rubber; hence a good man for The Shadow to appoint for the present mission.
Riding by taxi, they reached an old house on a side street, a brownstone-fronted building that looked in better repair than others in that block. As they alighted, Mann observed that the front windows of the basement and first floor were barred. Allard observed the same; and he saw that the side windows were similarly equipped.
There was another fact that Allard discerned. There was a bay window at the side of the house; just past it, deeper in a narrow passage, a one-story wall joined this house with the next. Allard saw a door in the blocking wall; it evidently opened into a rear courtyard.
A stocky-built servant ushered the visitors into a first-floor parlor. Soon, they heard the sound of slow, jerky footsteps. A stoop-shouldered, white-haired man entered; he kept his hands folded in front of him, as he stared over the tops of his spectacles.
Professor Lawsham had wrinkled features, with lips that were thin and tight-pressed. His narrow nose gave him a pinched expression, but his clear eyes showed keen intellect. Those eyes, gray in color, were suspicious at first but they gradually became friendly.
LAWSHAM liked the looks of these visitors: Mann, chubby-faced and serious; Allard, his tanned face almost gaunt, with its immobile expression. Seating himself, the professor gave a shrewd smile, then shook his head.
'You are too late, gentlemen,' he said. 'I have decided not to sell the rights to my invention.'
Allard looked inquiringly at Mann; in turn, the insurance broker asked Lawsham to explain his decision.
