"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 109 - The Golden Masks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

blackmail, Sampler, with Burris Froy as the unwilling go-between. The letter threatened him with death if
he did not communicate with me.”

Turning about, Lengerton went to a safe behind his desk. He swung the metal door open; it was
unlocked. Sampler gaped at sight of stacked currency, bundles of bank notes, all of thousand-dollar
denomination.

“The terms were these,” declared Lengerton, sourly. “I was told to unload all my holdings in
Intercontinental Air Lines, which I did to-day, through my proxies. I was permitted to retain half a million,
the amount of my original investment. That sum has been placed in the bank.

“The rest—an equal sum, all profits—you see before you. At eight o'clock to-night, the unknown
blackmailer is to enter this office and pick up the money unmolested. That gives us”—Lengerton glanced
at his watch—“less than twenty minutes to be out of here.”

SAMPLER gaped helplessly. Lengerton seated himself behind the desk, drummed for a few moments,
then yanked open a drawer. From it, he produced a stack of newspaper clippings, which he tossed on
the desk with the comment:

“Look at these, Sampler.”

The secretary did as directed. The clippings were ominous. They were of various dates; they were from
newspapers in different cities. Each clipping carried its own strange tale. A few told of wealthy men, who
had died suddenly.

Others mentioned important persons whose present whereabouts were unknown, but whose absence
carried no suspicion of foul play. There were a few clippings that mentioned absent men who had
returned; but who had refused to state where they had been. Sampler remembered several of these cases
from the current news.

“Those came with the letter that Froy received,” remarked Lengerton. “He believes that the people
mentioned were victims of the blackmail ring. Some are dead; others are missing. Only the ones who will
not talk have been allowed to return. Since their lips are sealed, it indicates that they must have
experienced some terrible ordeal.”

Lengerton gathered the clippings, thrust them into the desk drawer and angrily threw a sheaf of loose
papers upon them. He glanced toward the open safe and grimaced. Lengerton did not relish the loss of a
cool half a million.

“A double-barreled threat,” mused the shipping president. “First, because I could not risk the exposure
of my ownings in Intercontinental Air Lines. Second, the veiled warning of death or injury if I did not
comply. Oddly, Sampler, it was the first threat that worried me. I would be willing to face the second.”

“The first threat is ended, Mr. Lengerton,” said Sampler. “Since you have already disposed of your
airline holdings, there can be no exposure. At present, it is simply money that you must protect.”

A sharp gleam came to Lengerton's eyes. The gray-haired man pounded the desk with his fist. Hurriedly,
Lengerton glanced at his watch. It showed twelve minutes before eight. Without further hesitation,
Lengerton snatched up the telephone. Sampler listened while his employer called police headquarters.