"Guess these were meant for Fritz," declared Cardona gruffly.
He pushed his way through a throng of viewing detectives. He encountered the janitor standing in the hallway. He thrust the flowers in the man's hands, much to the merriment of those who watched him. The janitor was dumfounded. For this was the real Fritz — not the unknown man who sometimes played his part. Fritz, followed by a group of laughers, went to his locker and placed the violets upon the shelf. Alone at his desk, Cardona was staring at a tiny disk in his right hand. He had drawn it from the violet stems, and had retained it there when he had given the bouquet to Fritz. Upon the disk were inscribed these words:
Accident Cincinnati March
The disk clinked in Cardona's pocket. The detective donned his hat and left the office. Half an hour later, he was riding toward the Pennsylvania Station, in a taxicab, his suitcase on the seat beside him.
Chapter X — Spirits Appear
Rajah Brahman, clad in full Oriental regalia, was listening at a secret panel which opened into his reception room. A smile gleamed upon his dark-dyed face. Carefully, he opened a slot in the panel. His keen eye peered through and observed the visitors who had assembled.
There were nearly twenty persons present all of them people of affluence. Shrewdly, the rajah took account of their identities.
The throng was about equally divided into men and women. Among the latter was the wife of a rich Chicago packer — a woman worth more than a million in her own right. She had come with hopes of communicating with a child that had died in infancy. Rajah Brahman smiled. He saw a man from Los Angeles an elderly gentleman who had long since retired from business. He was a regular contributor to the many mediums who thrived in the metropolis of southern California. A good prospect — but one who should be worked slowly, he had been corralled by the leader of the psychic circle in Los Angeles.
Weaned from his many spiritualistic interests, this man from the Pacific coast had made a special trip to New York to attend the seance of the renowned Rajah Brahman, whose fame lived everywhere. In a corner stood two men; both legacies from the now defunct circle once conducted by Professor Raoul Jacques. One of these was Benjamin Castelle — a skeptic, but a wealthy man whose presence was desirable.
The other was Thomas Telford, the prospective dupe whom Jacques had recommended. Rajah Brahman smiled once more. Those notes that Jacques had left were to prove useful even though the Hindu seer pretended that he had no need of them.