MOOSE SHARGIN arose. He knew the interview was ended. In Hiram Mallory, he recognized a superior mind. This kindly faced old gentleman, known to his social friends as a retired business man, was a supercrook who kept his name free from all criminal enterprises.
Moose cast a last look about the room, with its elegant furnishings. The handsome, well-stocked bookcases; the expensive curtains and paintings that adorned the wall; the tall, decorated screen in the corner — all these were signs of the luxury that went with wealth acquired by legitimate methods.
There was nothing in this room that revealed the true nature of Hiram Mallory.
The panel opened in the wall. Moose Shargin entered. He went through the passage, back to the old house that stood adjacent to Hiram Mallory’s home.
Moose knew only part of his chief’s schemes and connections. Similarly, Shargin’s own underling — Garry Elvers — would be waiting for him, unknowing of his own chief’s dealings.
Hiram Mallory continued to smile after Moose Shargin had left. He picked up a French telephone and called a number. The voice of Bob Maddox answered.
“Await instructions,” said Mallory quietly. “There are new developments which require a delay. No action whatever. Be ready.”
After he had concluded his telephone call, Mallory spoke softly, his voice scarcely audible.
“Each knows but part,” he said. “Shargin wonders how the others get away with their killings. Maddox wonders why Shargin stays in line. Briggs wonders about everything.
“Theodore Galvin knew too much. I trusted him too far. Reynold Barker knew too little — otherwise he would not have been so foolish. Until now, no menace has arisen except within our own forces.