When the call was ended, Delmuth paced the office. He was thinking deeply, and his scheme was clever.
Within ten minutes, another call was scheduled. It would have no significance whatever.
It would be from the party who had just called.
But on this occasion, Delmuth intended to make a pretense of betraying himself — all for the benefit of the man who he believed was hidden in this room.
As the ten minutes passed, Delmuth fought against his previous desire to begin a search.
There were half a dozen places where The Shadow could be hidden. Behind the typewriter desk in the corner. In one of the inner offices. On the far side of the huge filing cabinet — Delmuth's ponderings ended with the ringing of the telephone. He hurried to the switchboard and made an eager answer. Then, in a low voice, he began to talk.
"At my apartment tonight," he said. "That's when we'll close the deal. Everything depends upon it. We'll get him there, and if he don't talk — well, you know what will happen.
"No. I don't know what time. I'll be there at eight, and I'll call you after I hear from him. I may have to wait until midnight; but there's no chance of anything going wrong. You get the idea? He will come there I'm sure of it!" After the telephone call, Delmuth picked up a sheet of paper and thoughtfully prepared a message. He went directly to the filing case, took out a file, and went over the details of an advertising account. He made a correction in his message, and went back to the telephone. He called a telegraph office.
"Take a telegram," he said. "Benefacto Co., Hartford, Connecticut. Ready? Here's the message:
"Your booklet ready for printer. Must have remaining pages. Send at least twelve tonight.