The Ghost Makers

Martin Slade walked with a slight swagger as he entered the lobby of the Callao Hotel. One week ago, Barney Gleason and his mob had done their efficient work of killing Dick Terry, although Barney remarked that the Texan had fought like a steer. During that week, Slade had lived an eventful life. He was no longer Martin Slade. He had assumed the identity of James Telford, and had been welcomed back by his overjoyed father.

Slade smiled to himself as he rode upward in the elevator. He could still picture the face of Thomas Telford when he had bumped into the waiting man in the concourse of the Grand Central Station. Rajah Brahman's prediction had come true. Thomas Telford had found his missing son in a place thronged with many people.

Satisfaction governed Slade's manner as he reached the door of Rajah Brahman's apartment. Stealth was unnecessary in his visits here. Thomas Telford had brought his son to meet the famous rajah. In fact, to-night, Slade had mentioned to the old man that he was coming to express his gratitude to Rajah Brahman.

The solemn face of Imam Singh greeted the visitor. Slade was ushered into Rajah Brahman's inner sanctum. He felt a trifle uneasy as he crossed the anteroom.

Even though he knew this to be a den of fakery, the silence troubled Martin Slade. He felt as he had felt that night at Telford's, when he had fancied that invisible eyes were watching him from the darkness. Shaking off his nervousness, Slade pushed the thick curtain aside and entered the sanctum. The room was in darkness. Only the glow of Rajah Brahman's cigarette betrayed the presence of a living being.

"Hello, Bert," said Slade in a low voice.

"Hello, Slade," came the rajah's reply.

Another voice spoke quietly from the darkness.

"Good evening, James Telford," it said.

"The chief!" exclaimed Slade. "I didn't know you would be here tonight."

"There is a reason," declared the voice in the darkness. "We shall discuss that later. First, let us hear what you have to say. Then Bert can tell you what is on our minds."

"Everything is O.K. with the old boy," declared Slade. "He has fallen straight from the start. I'm so used to being called Jim, that it seems like my real name, now.

"When I blew in with that phony snapshot, the game was in the bag. Every now and then I drop some wise remark about the past. It's getting stronger and stronger every day. The old boy is taking everything for granted."

"Where is he now?" asked Rajah Brahman.

"He had to take a run down to Baltimore overnight," continued Slade. "Some trifling business with an old friend down there.

"He wanted me to go along, but I begged off. I didn't know how much the other bird might know about the past of young James Telford. Besides that, I want a chance to go through that safe while the old man's away."

"Good idea," said Rajah Brahman.

"The old man showed me his will," declared Slade, "and it's all in my favor. I didn't have a chance to read it in detail. I want to know how much he's worth. I will know to-morrow night."

"The old man will be back then?"

"Will he? You're right he will," Slade replied. "You don't think he would miss that swell seance you have scheduled, do you? He wants me to come with him. If he's late coming back from Baltimore, he'll phone me when he arrives in New York. So that's all set.

"Telford will show up, and I may be on hand as one of the fish. I'm going to get out of it if I can on account of some of the people who will be here."

"That's right," agreed the rajah, "but as James Telford, you will be O.K. if you come with the old man. It doesn't matter, though, because Mrs. Garwood is the one I'm working on to-morrow night."

"She believes everything, now?"

"Absolutely. Just waiting for a materialization of her dear husband. She's bringing a certified check for fifty thousand dollars as an endowment to my shrine in India. I happened to mention that Mrs. Furzeman was doing that, and Mrs. Garwood fell for the idea, too.

"There's just one condition — that her husband appears and tells her it is all right. He'll be here — don't worry. Tony knows his stuff, and he has the part down to perfection."

"Has she said anything about Terry?" Slade wanted to know.

"No. She's through with him. She received that letter you mailed from Washington. That stunt was A-1, Slade. It clinched the whole affair.

"If Nephew Terry didn't think enough about her to stay in New York a while, his opinion doesn't amount to anything, in her estimation!"

"And what about Dykeman?" asked Slade.

"He's fallen for the greatest stall of all," laughed the seer. "Ever since the spook of his daughter went away with those jewels, he's had an idea that money would count for something on the astral plane, too.

"He's out to supply capital to the spirit world. He's likely to sink close to half a million before he gets away from New York — in big installments, too."

"How about Coronado Copper?" questioned Slade.