Cardona received a paper. Its words were poorly typewritten. The detective recognized the battered M and the weakly struck A. Double Z sometimes scrawled; on other occasions he typed. Always, he inscribed, at the foot of the note, those twin letters that served as his signature. The message read: You are making a mistake. Stop at once or you will hear from me. Death will come to you!
The detective was contemplative for a few moments. Then he turned to Fennimann:
“When did Farmington get this?” was his question.
“This morning,” replied the acting inspector. “Sent it down by messenger. Called up to make sure it came in. I told him you would come up to see him. He will be home at one o’clock.”
Joe Cardona glanced at his watch.
“I know where Farmington lives,” he said. “I’ll go up there right away.”
When the detective arrived at the banker’s home, he was ushered into a room that served as an office. It adjoined a large living room.
Cardona took a chair near a huge mahogany desk, and awaited the return of Philip Farmington. The banker arrived within half an hour.
JOE CARDONA was keenly interested in the meeting. He had seen Philip Farmington, but had never spoken to him before. The man was a keen, hard-faced individual; one who possessed a powerful physique and a commanding personality. Cardona knew that he was reputed to be a multimillionaire, and was a strong figure in the activities of international bankers.
After shaking hands with the detective, Farmington seated himself by the desk and got down to business.