Thus it was that Lamont Cranston met Phil Harley, except that he didn’t tell Phil that he was no longer wanted. Instead, Cranston invited Phil to ride up town, adding that it was by order of the police commissioner.
Instead of Shrevvy’s cab, Cranston was using his limousine today and Phil was duly impressed, though strictly silent. It was Cranston who broke the ice with the calm-toned question:
“And just what is your alleged occupation, Mr. Harley?”
Phil’s eyes narrowed at the query.
“Ames was buying commercial plastics,” remarked Cranston, “although there happen to be none available on the market. Older was arranging synthetic rubber shipments to South America which happens to have an oversupply of the natural material. I thought there might be a third connection.”
Steady eyes fixed straight on Phil and this time drew a reply.
“All right,” snapped Phil. “My job is to read over patent reports. Any objection?”
“None at all,” assured Cranston. “How are you progressing?”
“Not so well,” Phil admitted frankly. “They haven’t delivered enough of them at my hotel.”
“So you spend your time looking out the window at Central Park.”