The Ghost Makers

"That's Martin Slade," declared Rajah Brahman. "Show him in, Tony." A minute later, a cool-faced man entered the sanctum and smiled as he viewed the shirt-sleeved rajah. The mystic looked toward his visitor.

Martin Slade was a man of good appearance. Quietly dressed, faultlessly attired, he presented himself well. Only the slight shiftiness of his eyes betrayed the manner of a crook.

"Hello, Bert," greeted Slade, In a smooth, convincing voice. "The chief told me you wanted to see me."

"I do," said Rajah Brahman. "Sit down. I've got a couple of jobs for you, right here in New York. You're going to stay here for a while."

Slade nodded and took a chair.

"First of all," declared Rajah Brahman, "we must clinch the Garwood proposition."

"I cleaned that up for you, Bert," responded Slade. "You know how I worked it down in Philadelphia. The old man's out of the way—"

"Yes," interrupted the rajah, "but there's another trouble now. Mrs. Garwood has come to New York, as Anita Marie told her to do. But she has brought her nephew along with her. A fellow from Texas, named Dick Terry. He was here to-night at the seance."

"Did he try to queer your act?"

"No. On the contrary, I fooled him completely. But I've sized him up, Slade, and he's going to be a tough customer. It would be best to have him out of the picture."

"That's easy, here in New York. You know how I stand with Barney Gleason's mob. They don't know my racket. They'll do what I tell them — cheap."

"All right. Keep that in mind. But remember — it's got to be done so the old lady won't suspect anything is wrong. Fix it so the nephew disappears, and is in wrong with his aunt. Think it over, Slade. See me about it later."

"I'll do that, Bert. What's the other job?"

"An easy one for you, Slade. I've added a new sucker to the list— an easy play if I can get the story. Jacques left a complete report on him. He was here to-night. Tony!"

The last word was in a louder tone. The white clad form of Imam Singh entered the sanctum.

"Get me the dope on Telford," ordered Rajah Brahman.

The assistant went away, and returned with a sheet of paper. Rajah Brahman smiled as he consulted the document, holding it close to the light so he could read it more readily.

"Here's the dope, Slade," he said. "Telford is a wealthy man from New Orleans. We don't have a psychic circle there, yet, or we probably would have landed him direct.

"However, Telford had a row with his only son, several years ago. The son ran away. The old man heard from him in New York. He learned that the son— James — had gone to sea. He thinks that the boy drowned in a ship that sunk off the coast of Virginia.

"Telford has been living in a house on Long Island, hoping that he might trace poor young Jim — if the boy is still alive.

"Lately, he got the idea that maybe if his son was dead, the spirits could be of help. That's how he happened to get in touch with Professor Jacques.

"So far, the information is meager, but Jacques has learned one thing that is going to help. Telford has accumulated everything pertaining to his son— letters that young Jim wrote; a diary that he kept; newspaper clippings; photographs and what not."

"Did Jacques see any of them?" questioned Slade.

"No," replied the rajah. "That's the best part of it. The old man has them all in a safe out on Long Island. He's living alone in a small home. An old housekeeper is there, but she's a bit deaf. Jacques talked to her on the telephone once."

"So my job is—"

"To crack that safe some night when Telford is away. Find out all you can — but don't leave any traces. Telford said something about going up to Boston to-morrow to see an old seaman who was on the same boat with his son.

"Get this: the old man talks about his grief, but he's cagey. That's why I like it. When I begin to give him specific information, he will fall like a ton of bricks."

"If he's going to be away," said Slade thoughtfully, "I may be able to bring the stuff in here, and take it back after you've looked at it."

"Great!" exclaimed the rajah. "If you can work it that way, so much the better."

"That means I'll have to stay in New York," said Slade. "Well, the other jobs can wait. St. Louis is all right. So is Cleveland. The Chicago job is off for the present, anyhow. Madame Plunket is working there, now, instead of Cincinnati.

"The chief and I talked about it, this afternoon. She has most of the members of the old psychic circle, and it isn't a good idea to work on her customers so soon after the Dykeman job."

"That settles it, then," said the rajah. "Go after Telford right away. Then look over the Garwood proposition. I want that fellow Terry out of the way."

Rajah Brahman paced slowly back and forth across the room. He was an incongruous figure, now, in his shirt sleeves.

He was thinking about something of importance — a matter which he wished to discuss with Martin Slade. But he was doubtful of the advisability. At last, he stopped and put his first statement into the form of a question.