"All but the securities," corrected Judge. "They wait."
"We still have a nice surplus," said Major, with a broad grin. "We've got the cream, but there will be milk right along."
Ferret, losing interest in the turn of conversation, glanced at the envelope in his hand. He ripped it open, and drew out the folded deposit slip. He opened the piece of paper, and stared at the reverse said. There, in neatly inscribed letters, was this message:
You began too soon. You should have forgotten Daniel Antrim. Your mistake has been made. All plans are doomed to fail. The Shadow knows.
A startled exclamation came involuntarily from Ferret's lips. The stoop-shouldered man realized his error. The others were staring at him.
Ferret, in alarm, made a move to tear the sheet of paper. But as he drew away, Major reached forward and plucked it from his hands. Glaring, Major held the paper for a moment; then passed it to Judge, while he continued to watch Ferret.
"Listen, Judge," Ferret began, turning his head away from Major's glare. "Let me tell you—" He leaned forward to point to the paper, about to frame an explanation for the facts that it mentioned. Ferret's words died suddenly on his lips. The sheet at which Judge was staring was perfectly blank.
"What's the idea?" questioned Judge abruptly. "Look at this, Major — you, too, Butcher.
There's nothing here! Come clean, Ferret! What's the matter with you?"
Ferret's shrewdness served him well. He could not understand why the writing had vanished. But the fact that it was gone gave him his chance. He relied upon a half truth to serve him at this critical moment.