"Been up to look over the spook camp?" questioned Slade pleasantly.
"Yes," replied Dick.
"I haven't been there yet," said Slade. "I hear it's a great racket."
"It is," responded Dick, glad to discover some one who felt the way he did. "It's a fraud, clear through. I'll never go back to the place again."
"I'm glad to see somebody that's wise," declared Slade, in a careless tone. "I know plenty about the man that's running it. I could get a lot on him, if I had a mind to."
The suggestion was all that Dick needed. He tried to pump his companion, as they rode down in the elevator together. In the lobby, Slade drew Dick aside.
"Say," he said. "Maybe you know somethings I don't know. But there's one fellow — I know him well — who has the real goods on this crooked rajah. If we could get hold of him, he'd tell us plenty. He used to work in the racket."
"Where is he?" questioned Dick.
"He hangs out in a rowdy joint," said Slade. "He took me there once, and spilled some stuff about the medium upstairs. I'd like to see him again. Want to go along with me, and look him up?" Dick expressed his willingness.
"My car's out on the street," declared Slade. "Come along — I'll take you to meet this fellow." Dick and his new-found friend left the lobby together. Dick Terry was entering the trap.