Long Tom, it was to be suspected, had exercised an eye for pulchritude as well as efficiency when he hired his working force. He had picked a number of peaches. And the glances they threw in Doc's direction would have put life into a stone man. They had, however, exactly no effect on the mighty man of bronze. The stenographers didn't know it, but Doc was absolutely woman proof.
'I'm gonna have to kick Doc out of here before these girls will go back to work,' Long Tom grumbled.
At this point, one young lady held up a hand.
'The call you have been waiting for!' she said.
Long Tom sprang to a panel. He threw switches. Out of the loud-speaker at the end of the room came a humming note that showed it was cut in on a telephone line, through an amplifier.
THE hum persisted for some seconds.
'Hello, you at Worldwide!' said a harsh voice.
'Hello yourself!' growled the other man.
'How much you got on hand?'
'Quarter of a million dollars. We sold that No. 3 plant for cash today.'
Doc saw clearly what was going on. The Gray Spider's man in charge of Worldwide Sawmills had disposed of another part of the company. They were continuing their looting. The last unit they had sold chanced to be the No. 3 sawmill where Big Eric, Edna, and Ham had been rescued.
'The Gr—Well, you know who—will take personal delivery on this gob of cash,' the man at Worldwide was told. 'You're to meet him and hand over the jack tonight.'
'Meet him—where?'
'You know where Buck Boontown's village is in the big swamp?'
'Yeah.'
'Meet him there. Be on hand at ten o'clock, sharp!'
'Aw—what does he think I am? It's a terrible trip into that swamp at night.'
'I can't help that, buddy. You got your orders.'
'Ahr-r-r!' growled the man at Worldwide. 'I'll be there.'
'You better!'
This ominous warning terminated the conversation. Sharp clicks denoted receivers being hung up.
Doc, Long Tom and Ham exchanged knowing looks.
'He's going to meet the Gray Spider at Buck Boontown's swamp settlement with a quarter of a million dollars in cash,' Ham clipped. He made a fighting stroke with his sword cane. 'I presume we will be on hand?'
'With bells on,' Doc assured him.
'How about me?' Long Tom barked. 'I'm in on this! Try to keep me out!'
'Can your wire-tapping establishment here get along without you?' Doc inquired.
'Sure it can.'
'Come on, then.'
THEY hurried outside. Doc hailed a cab and directed: 'The Danielsen & Haas building.'
'What's there?' Long Tom wanted to know.
'Big Eric and Edna,' Doc replied. 'We will tell them what we're headed for and make sure they are safe.'
Their taxi rooted its way through traffic. Here and there stores were turning on the lights in their show windows, proof that dusk was near.
'Have you heard from Renny and Monk?' Long Tom asked Doc.
'Not a word,' Doc admitted. 'Monk, as you know, is pretending to be a chemist fleeing from the vengeance of a country he turned traitor to. Renny is taking the part of a dishonest special forest ranger. Both hope to get into the Gray Spider's gang. But they have no radio to keep in touch with me. That's why we haven't heard from them.'
At the Danielsen & Haas building, Doc and his men left their taxi waiting.
In the lobby, they encountered pretty Edna Danielsen. She was alone. She looked worried.
Doc said seriously. 'It is dangerous for you to be chasing around alone without—'
'Wait!' she interrupted. 'I am afraid something terrible has happened!'
'What do you mean?' Doc questioned sharply.
'Horace Haas has disappeared!' Edna Danielsen explained. 'And poor old Silas Bunnywell is also gone! Worse still, I made a horrible discovery in Silas Bunnywell's little office!'
'What sort of discovery?'
'Come! I'll show you.'
An elevator rushed them up to the top floor. Edna Danielsen led the way to old Silas Bunnywell’s cubby- hole.
'Look!' she gasped, and pointed.
SILAS BUNNEYWELL’S accounting table was overturned. So was a wastebasket. Red and black had spilled together in a lurid puddle. There had been a fierce struggle in the little cubicle.
To one side lay an inkwell. It was a heavy fistful of glass. Red ink from it was splashed high on the walls.
'Obviously somebody was clubbed over the head with this,' Doc murmured. He picked up the inkwell. His golden eyes appraised it.
Several dark hairs clung to the bottom.
'Poor old Silas Bunnywell!' choked Edna Danielson.
'Not Silas Bunnywell,' Doc corrected thoughtfully.
'Absolutely!' declared the attractive young woman. 'Dad and I have looked everywhere for them.'
'Where is your father?'
'In his office.'
They retired to Big Eric Danielsen's office. Big Eric was treading circles on the worn carpet. The office was fogged with smoke from the cigar he was puffing.
'Where in the devil do you reckon Horace Haas and Silas Bunnywell have disappeared to?' he demanded.
'Frankly, I'm puzzled,' Doc admitted.
Big Eric shivered. It did not add to his cheerfulness to hear this mighty bronze man admit he was puzzled, even though the bafflement might be only temporary.
'What are you going to do now?' he questioned.
'Unfortunately, we only have time for one bold stroke,' Doc replied. 'One of the men the Gray Spider has installed as a looter at the head of Worldwide Sawmills is to meet his master tonight at Buck Boontown's swamp settlement. He is to deliver a quarter of a million dollars of their loot to the Gray Spider in person. Ham, Long Tom, and myself have barely time to get there. We'll rush out there and try to grab the Gray Spider.'
'I'd like to help you!' Big Eric declared.
'Nothing doing!' refused Doc. 'You will stay here in New Orleans and guard the life of your daughter. We will escort you home immediately. We will also leave machine guns and hand grenades, so you can defend yourself against any attack by the Gray Spider's men.'
They left this office. Almost running, they made for the elevators. The cage ferried them down.
Perhaps forty seconds after the elevator door clanked shut, one corner of the carpet in Big Eric's office lifted slowly. It flipped back. This disclosed that a section of the floor had been cunningly contrived into a trapdoor. Below it was a coffinlike cavity a few inches deep.
A man had been occupying this—listening!
THE eavesdropper stood up from his coffinlike skulking place. He wore a gaudily colored silk mask—much
