“Come in, then.”
Richards entered.
“It’s past noon, sir,” he said. “Mr. Burbank is here.”
Lamont Cranston rose leisurely, and yawned.
“I’m getting to be a late sleeper, Richards,” he said. “I wasn’t always this way, was I?”
“No, sir. Only occasionally, sir. I don’t entirely remember, sir.”
Lamont Cranston smiled. Richards was most noncommittal. It was his duty to be so. He never remarked on any eccentricities which his master displayed.
This matter of Burbank, for instance.
Richards had expressed no surprise whatever at Lamont Cranston’s sudden awakening of interest in the wireless station upstairs. Yesterday he had been instructed to call Burbank, the man who occasionally assisted the millionaire in his radio experiments. Now Burbank was here.
“Send him up,” ordered Cranston.