Shadowed Millions

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THE lobby of the Hotel Corona was thronged with an after-theater crowd. The big clock above the desk showed twenty minutes before twelve. The passive clerk blinked quietly at the gay host of visitors, who were on their way to the popular roof garden which this hotel maintained.

The Corona was known as one of the brightest spots in Manhattan. Big men of business frequented this place. The clerk had noted many well-known faces among tonight’s gatherers. Each elevator that went to the roof was filled with patrons. Business was always good at the Corona.

A tall, middle-aged man entered the lobby. He cut an excellent figure in his immaculate evening clothes. He strolled along, swinging a light cane and staring about him with a bored expression. His pointed mustache gave him a sophisticated air; his keen eyes indicated a shrewdness that his manner masked.

The clerk bowed courteously as the arrival glanced in his direction. This man was a most desirable patron of the Hotel Corona. The clerk recognized him as Alvarez Legira, consular agent of the newly formed republic of Santander.

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