THE detective was ushered into a luxurious smoking room when he called at Wade’s mansion. There he met the millionaire. He eyed Matthew Wade with respect. The man was not much over forty. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a typical sportsman.
Matthew Wade had hunted tigers and elephants in India. He had patrolled the South African veldt. He was a man of many parts and boundless wealth. Despite his indolence of manner and his ease of living, he showed signs of latent power and dynamic personality.
What impressed Cardona most was the expression upon Matthew Wade’s face. The man was trying to seem indifferent. Actually he was ill at ease. He seemed to be repressing a dread.
“Have you spoken to any one about this visit?” inquired Wade in a tone of apprehension.
“To no one,” said Cardona.
“Good,” responded Wade. “Then we can talk.”
He strode up and down the room several times. He finally stopped and faced Cardona. He spoke abruptly.
“It looks like trouble for me,” he declared. “It’s meant trouble for others before. What do you think of this?”
He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket and thrust it into Cardona’s hands. The detective’s heart jumped. He recognized that crude typewriting, with the cryptic signature beneath. The message read: You will be next! Unless you pay one million dollars, you may count on death. Instructions will come later. Tell no one!
“Is that from Double Z?” questioned Wade.