They formed a remarkable pair, these two men — the great financier and his confidential secretary. Wilberton had often spoken of Crowley as his right hand. Crowley was indeed a master of efficiency, although he dealt in few words.
There was something in the words that he had uttered that Wilberton understood without further questioning. Mr. Griscom had said that an interview was urgent. Unless that statement had impressed Crowley, the secretary would not have repeated it. Crowley was always right. Mr. Griscom’s mission must be urgent.
“I shall see Mr. Griscom,” declared Wilberton.
Crowley bowed and retired. A few minutes later, Horace Griscom, pale-faced and visibly worried, entered the room, accompanied by Lamont Cranston.
Griscom’s companion showed no signs of worriment. His expression was as fixed as it had been that night at Griscom’s home. Cranston showed no great interest in the surroundings.
The luxury of Wilberton’s office had impressed many men of means who had entered. Lamont Cranston seemed merely to take it for granted.
Crowley was with the visitors. He drew up two chairs before the desk. The men seated themselves.
Crowley remained, but did not sit down. He stood at the side of the desk, staring at Stanley Wilberton as though he were the financier’s familiar demon, awaiting whatever orders might be given him.
AFTER a few minutes, Stanley Wilberton pushed the documents to the side of the desk. Crowley leaned forward and began to arrange them in neat piles.
The financier paid no attention to him. He looked up and studied his visitors with a sharp gaze.