Before the assistant could start forth on his search, a buzzer sounded.
"That's Martin Slade," declared Rajah Brahman. "Show him in, Tony." A minute later, a cool-faced man entered the sanctum and smiled as he viewed the shirt-sleeved rajah. The mystic looked toward his visitor.
Martin Slade was a man of good appearance. Quietly dressed, faultlessly attired, he presented himself well. Only the slight shiftiness of his eyes betrayed the manner of a crook.
"Hello, Bert," greeted Slade, In a smooth, convincing voice. "The chief told me you wanted to see me."
"I do," said Rajah Brahman. "Sit down. I've got a couple of jobs for you, right here in New York. You're going to stay here for a while."
Slade nodded and took a chair.
"First of all," declared Rajah Brahman, "we must clinch the Garwood proposition."
"I cleaned that up for you, Bert," responded Slade. "You know how I worked it down in Philadelphia. The old man's out of the way—"
"Yes," interrupted the rajah, "but there's another trouble now. Mrs. Garwood has come to New York, as Anita Marie told her to do. But she has brought her nephew along with her. A fellow from Texas, named Dick Terry. He was here to-night at the seance."
"Did he try to queer your act?"