"It all depends on you, Slade," he said. "Get going right away. The first job is to put all this stuff back in the safe. After that, lay low and spring the works on Dick Terry.
"When old Telford gets back, I'll give him a seance that will be the turning point of his life. Another soul will be made happy— thanks to Rajah Brahman."
The sarcasm in the man's tone made no impression upon Martin Slade. He was lost in enthusiasm over the clever scheme which was in the making.
Slade gathered the articles into the portfolio, and added the photographs and papers which Tony brought along. Then he left the presence of Rajah Brahman.
There was no thought of hidden shadows in Martin Slade's mind as he crossed the little anteroom. He left the Callao Hotel quietly, and entered his car that was parked outside.
He rode eastward, across the East River, and sped toward the part of Long Island where Thomas Telford kept his residence. The bungalow was on a side suburban street. Slade parked his car a block away, and stole across a vacant lot.
He pried open the window of a darkened room. He entered and crept along until he reached the small room in which the safe was located. There, with the glow of a small flashlight, he opened the safe and placed the portfolio within.
When he had closed the safe, Martin Slade listened. He was tense, for he knew that upon this one deed, the success of the future rested.
Slade flicked out the light. Although the room was soundless, he had a sensation that someone was watching him in the darkness.
What should he do?