A picture was lying on the table as he worked. It was a portrait of Geoffrey Garwood, the dead husband of the Philadelphia woman.
Gradually, Imam Singh's countenance assumed the features of the departed millionaire. Satisfied with his final touches, Imam Singh laughed and leaned back in his chair. His task was done; but there would be long to wait.
To-night, Rajah Brahman was doing preliminary work with the trumpet. The materialization of the wealthy Garwood would be the last number on the spooky program.
As Imam Singh leaned back, with eyes half closed, a pair of hands emerged from the box behind his chair. A man's form followed. The man suddenly hurled himself forward and landed full upon the unexpectant Imam Singh.
The struggle was brief, and all in favor of the attacker. A man of strength, he rolled the fake Hindu to the floor, and rammed his head against the woodwork. Within half a minute, the victor was staring at the inert face that resembled Geoffrey Garwood.
He arose and dragged the unconscious man to the far corner of the room, where he bound and gagged his captive. Then he returned to the dressing table in the corner, and took the chair which Imam Singh had occupied.
While this unusual event was taking place beneath the apartment of Rajah Brahman, a group of detectives at headquarters were extending a welcome to Joe Cardona, returned from his leave of absence.
The detective had just arrived from his trip to parts unknown. He looked worn and weary from his journey.
In the office, his comrades, unimpressed by Cardona's tired appearance, were questioning him about his vacation. Cardona saw a package on his desk. Some one spied the direction of his gaze. The banter changed in tune.
"Came in this afternoon, Joe. Were you expecting it?"