Slade smiled to himself as he rode upward in the elevator. He could still picture the face of Thomas Telford when he had bumped into the waiting man in the concourse of the Grand Central Station. Rajah Brahman's prediction had come true. Thomas Telford had found his missing son in a place thronged with many people.
Satisfaction governed Slade's manner as he reached the door of Rajah Brahman's apartment. Stealth was unnecessary in his visits here. Thomas Telford had brought his son to meet the famous rajah. In fact, to-night, Slade had mentioned to the old man that he was coming to express his gratitude to Rajah Brahman.
The solemn face of Imam Singh greeted the visitor. Slade was ushered into Rajah Brahman's inner sanctum. He felt a trifle uneasy as he crossed the anteroom.
Even though he knew this to be a den of fakery, the silence troubled Martin Slade. He felt as he had felt that night at Telford's, when he had fancied that invisible eyes were watching him from the darkness. Shaking off his nervousness, Slade pushed the thick curtain aside and entered the sanctum. The room was in darkness. Only the glow of Rajah Brahman's cigarette betrayed the presence of a living being.
"Hello, Bert," said Slade in a low voice.
"Hello, Slade," came the rajah's reply.
Another voice spoke quietly from the darkness.
"Good evening, James Telford," it said.
"The chief!" exclaimed Slade. "I didn't know you would be here tonight."
"There is a reason," declared the voice in the darkness. "We shall discuss that later. First, let us hear what you have to say. Then Bert can tell you what is on our minds."