Maxwell Grant.........................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I .............................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II ............................................................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III..........................................................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................12

CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................16

CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................19

CHAPTER VII .......................................................................................................................................22

CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................26

CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................30

CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................33

CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................37

CHAPTER XII .......................................................................................................................................41

CHAPTER XIII.....................................................................................................................................44

CHAPTER XIV.....................................................................................................................................47

CHAPTER XV......................................................................................................................................50

CHAPTER XVI.....................................................................................................................................53

CHAPTER XVII ....................................................................................................................................55

CHAPTER XVIII ...................................................................................................................................59

CHAPTER XIX.....................................................................................................................................62

CHAPTER XX......................................................................................................................................66

JARED SHEBLEY leaned back in his teakwood chair and toyed with the Burmese katar. His crisp smile,

slicing across his parchment face, would have suited an Oriental potentate more than a New York curio

This was his curio room, the pride of his Manhattan penthouse. Its walls were adorned with tall, narrow

tapestries, woven mostly in gold and silver, set alternately between the glassfronted cabinets that housed the

It would have required a sizable pamphlet to describe those items. In fact, such a pamphlet was already in the

making; the proof sheets were scattered all over the chess table which Shebley used as a desk. The table

itself, a bulky and elaborate affair inlaid with squares of black and white motherofpearl, was one of

Shebley's chief prizes. It was supposed to be the table on which a Persian prince had been maneuvering his

men when he was captured, along with his royal tent, by Hulagu, the Mongolian invader operating under the

As with most of Shebley's curios, the authenticity of this number was a matter of some doubt, but not to

Shebley. He believed it to be the genuine article, and the only thing that bothered him was what Hulagu had

done with the chessmen that belonged with it. Shebley would be very unhappy if some day that ancient chess

What bothered Professor Giles Frescott was the way in which Shebley toyed with the Burmese katar.

No weapon more insidious could have been imagined, let alone fashioned, than this royal katar or Oriental

thrusting dagger. As he studied it across the chess table, Professor Frescott lost some of the benign expression

that usually characterized his broad, elderly features. His eyes narrowed under his thin gray brows, though

With all his genial ways, Frescott mistrusted collectors as a whole, perhaps because he recognized that he,

too, had the basic urge to lay his hands upon rare items and hold them. But as curator of the Museum of

"I was about to discuss the chest of Chu Chan," remarked Shebley, dryly, "but I see that you are more

"Precisely," replied Shebley. "Pagan Min, the son of Tharawaddy, ruler of Burma, until deposed by his

brother Mindon Min, who proved to be the only humane king in the entire line of Alompra."

"That was the curse of Alompra," he recalled. "Beginning with a warrior chieftain, the dynasty degenerated

and finally perished through descendants who were the victims of a homicidal mania."

"A fratricidal mania, too," added Shebley. "One of their greatest pastimes was killing off their brothers and

"I've often wondered about Pagan Min," continued Shebley. "He must have hated his brother Mindon, and

why he let him live, I cannot understand. Why, if Mindon had ever come within Pagan's reach "

With a sudden pause, Shebley studied Frescott's gaze as though trying to guess what lay behind the narrowed

"Very much," assured Frescott in a dispassionate tone. "You appear to be versed in Oriental customs, and

It was so frankly put that Shebley decided his actions would not be misunderstood. Rising from the table, he

stepped around it, the twelve inch dagger lying flat across his hands so that Frescott could study it more

Shebley voiced the word in matteroffact tone. It was his favorite expression, for it applied to every item in

his well stocked cases. As a collector, Shebley valued curios only if they were quite unmatched, and he had

The silver blade was six inches long, and ran wide from the hilt, tapering to a dull point. Having no sharpened

edges, it appeared to be a ceremonial weapon, as was further evidenced by the hilt. In fact, the hilt was the

Instead of a mere handle, the hilt was shaped like a letter H so that the crossbar could be gripped by the fist,

the knuckles resting in the stirrupshaped space between the crossbar and the dagger blade. The upper

extensions of the hilt were protective wings for the hand and wrist and were composed of gold, highly

It was the crossbar, however, that fascinated Frescott, as Shebley knew it would. Instead of being mere gold

as was customary with the finest handgrips, the center of the bar was a gleaming, bloodred stone set

between two cupshaped holders. As large as a marble and as round, that magnificent gem seemed filled with

At first glance, Frescott mistook the jewel for a genuine ruby, worth a fortune in itself, but Shebley, catching

"A Balas ruby!" defined Shebley. "Merely a form of spinel, though this is a fine specimen, which I doubt that

anyone could match. It probably came from Tharawaddy's crown, so he could furnish his bloodthirsty son

Opening one button of his vest, Shebley thrust the dagger through the space so that the silver blade projected

below and the gold hilt, with its bloodred eye appeared above. There was something rakish in the slant of

"This is the way Pagan Min must have worn it," decided Shebley. "More as an ornament than a weapon,

judging by its appearance. But Mindon Min must have known its purpose, for if he had let his evil brother

Shebley gave another of his abrupt pauses, though he could well have added "this would have happened!"

Instead, he demonstrated the deed in question. With a stride toward Frescott, as though the latter represented

Mindon Min, Shebley gripped the crosshilt of the katar and whipped the dagger from his improvised belt.

Pulling back, his arm drove forward like a piston, stopping halfway in its thrust.

The jab was comfortably short of Frescott and it was lucky that it was. For with it, Shebley illustrated the

automatic action of the deadly katar. Actuated by the pressure of Shebley's knuckles, the silver blade opened

into two sections, scissorsfashion. Those splitting halves were like spreading flower petals, but what they

The silver blade, as dull as it was ornamental, was nothing more than a cunningly fitted sheath for a blade of

steel concealed within. Needlepointed, razoredged, the deadly prong jabbed into sight like a cobra's fang

Professor Frescott might have been expecting something of the sort, for he didn't budge a muscle. Shebley's

mock thrust could have scared his visitor into immobility, but Frescott's broad face revealed nothing

resembling fear. Rather casually, the professor held out his hand, silently requesting the privilege of

examining the weapon. Shebley gave a reverse flip that closed the outer blade; then handed over the katar.

"I admire your sangfroid, professor," Shebley commented. "Other visitors have been more impressed."

"Lionel Graff," named Shebley. "Which proves that Graff does not know as much about Oriental antiques as

"Graff is merely a speculator." There was a tone of contempt from Frescott. "Surely you do not take his word

on anything" the professor was tilting his head to study Shebley's face "or do you?"

"On speculative propositions, yes," returned Shebley, "because that is Graff's business. There, professor!"

Shebley was referring to the katar, which was performing its scissors trick under the persuasion of Frescott's

knuckles. With a style that might have been termed professional, the museum curator was causing the hidden

blade to show and disappear by movements forward and back that were almost imperceptible.

Then, closing the katar, Frescott took it by the harmless outer blade and held it so he could examine the large

Balas ruby that showed a deepening tint in the glow of sunset that was streaming in from Shebley's

"A magnificent specimen," mused Frescott, half aloud, without specifying whether he meant the katar or the

Momentarily, Frescott's eyes matched the ruby's glitter. Then, relaxing his gaze, he slid the katar among the

proof sheets on the chess table and leaned back, folding his hands across his vest. Frescott's laugh was

pleasant, but the elderly professor had a habit of covering his real sentiments with opposite tones.

"You invited me here to discuss the chest of Chu Chan," declared Frescott blandly, "so tell me what you

already know about it and I shall supply the rest. We may as well come directly to the point instead of trying

A subtle listener might have suspected that Frescott's final sentence referred to the Burmese katar rather than

the chest of Chu Chan, but Shebley was not inclined to be subtle. Seating himself, he began to pour the facts

All the while, the ruby handle of the Burmese katar kept deepening its glow in the dying sunset, like the

watchful eye of some evil monster awaiting the chance to deliver a fatal thrust!

IT was an interesting tale that Jared Shebley told while Giles Frescott listened with half closed eyes.

The chest of Chu Chan had belonged to a Chinese of the same name who resided in Hanoi, capital of Tonkin,

in the north of French IndoChina. For many years Chu Chan had lived there undisturbed until the Japanese

began to move into IndoChina, taking whatever they wanted, particularly from Chinese nationals.

Chu Chan had managed, however, to keep a few jumps ahead of the wily Japs, where his treasures were

First, Chu Chan's belongings had been shipped southwest across the Mekong River to Bangkok, the capital of

Siam. By the time the Nipponese arrived there, the shipment was on its way to Singapore, where it cleared

At last the goods had arrived in America, there to be auctioned to raise funds for the cause of China, in

"Dariel Talcott bought the antique chest," concluded Shebley. "You must know him, professor. He owns the

"So reliable," assured Shebley, "that he wouldn't guarantee that the chest of Chu Chan was unique, as he did

with the katar of Pagan Min. Talcott said that I would do well to check its history personally."

"He has always been more than fair," affirmed Shebley. "For instance, he wouldn't even think of selling me

"One that came with the chest of Chu Chan," explained Shebley. "It was inside the chest, so the two were

sold as a lot. Only I doubt that it even belonged to Chu Chan. Probably it was put into the chest to get it away

"Because Talcott says there are dozens like it in Siam, all lifesized figures in a seated pose. As I said before,

"This chest of Chu Chan," he remarked. "It must be quite large to hold so sizable a statue."

"That's right," returned Shebley. "It is a large chest. Built much like a cabinet."

"Then it isn't unique," he declared. "It may be antique, but not unique." Chuckling at his play on words, the

"Only I don't know." Shebley stroked his chin. "Simon Benisette bought the dancer statue and now he is

"He specializes in anything that promises a profit," argued Shebley. "That's why I'm beginning to believe

what Graff said. You see, Graff told me" Shebley halted, then decided to out with it "well, he told me that

there might be a fortune in the chest of Chu Chan. So I'm of a mind to let Graff bid for me against Benisette."

Though Shebley didn't notice it, Professor Frescott had become suddenly alert. His eyes by their very

sharpness, could have been likened to the hidden blade in Shebley's katar, but they, too, were concealed as

Tilting his head back, Frescott gave a mild, though significant chuckle that puzzled Shebley just enough to

"Nobody will bid on that chest," laughed Frescott, "at least not at Talcott's Antique Galleries."

"Because Talcott has already sold it," informed Frescott. "It went to a dealer in Washington."

There was something of savagery in Shebley's gesture as he reached for the telephone. Frescott waved his

"Don't call Talcott," warned Frescott. "You won't have time. You'd better phone the airport for a reservation

Taking Frescott's advice, Shebley dialed the airport, but his gaze carried a query which Frescott answered

"I happen to know that Cranston will be taking that plane to Washington," assured Frescott. "Like yourself,

Shebley had the number. Finding that plane seats were still available, he ordered one. As Shebley hung up,

"Of course," replied Shebley. "Only I'll have to say goodbye right now, if I want to catch the plane. If you

want, you can wait and talk to Graff, because he's due here shortly. But it won't matter. I'll have my servant

Nodding toward Shebley, Frescott fumbled the dial in what seemed accidental fashion. Repeating the process

slowly, the professor took pains to keep from getting his number before Shebley went, which wasn't difficult,

With a smile that marked him capable of conniving practices, Frescott completed the connection. Alone in

Shebley's curio room, Frescott asked to be connected with his own office in the Museum of Antiquities.

There were a few rings from the line; then came a voice that Frescott recognized.

"Hello, Cranston." Frescott's tone was both affable and confidential. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I have

Apparently Lamont Cranston did, and said so. From then on, Professor Frescott was very precise.

"Shebley has heard on what he regards as good authority," stated Frescott, "that the chest of Chu Chan has

gone to a Washington dealer. So Shebley is taking the next plane to Washington. You will just about have

The abrupt click of the receiver at the other end told that Cranston wasn't losing a moment in acting on

Frescott's advice. With a subdued chuckle, the old professor arose from his chair and rustled the proof sheets

Leaving the duskshrouded room, Frescott went out through the hallway; his hat still in hand, he bowed to

Shebley's servant as he left. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, the professor went out to the street.

There was something crablike in Frescott's rapid gait toward the nearest corner. Over his shoulder, the

benignfaced man looked back with a conniving smile. Someone was entering the rather modest apartment

house that was noteworthy only because of Shebley's lavish penthouse; somebody whose face Frescott

The arrival, sallow of face and worried, was Lionel Graff, the speculator who had come to convince Jared

Shebley that he ought to buy the chest of Chu Chan. Graff would be sadly disappointed when he learned of

If he hadn't been watching Graff, Frescott might have noticed something that happened on the far side of the

street. There, a figure stirred from a duskfronted building and kept pace with Frescott as he turned the

corner. Possibly the professor wouldn't have seen the shape that trailed him, for its manner was decidedly

Though its height was uncertain, the figure was lithe, if not slender. Gliding from one duskpatch to another,

it gave the effect of being clad in a dark cape. It dwindled into gloom near the corner, thus adding a

In manner, at least, the mystery figure resembled The Shadow, the famous personage who roved Manhattan's

streets at dusk in search of crime to conquer. But there were two good reasons why The Shadow could not be

First, The Shadow had been too far from Shebley's apartment house to reach there before Frescott left; again,

The Shadow had decided upon another destination. Whether wittingly or otherwise, Professor Frescott had

The Shadow, in the person of Lamont Cranston, had left for Washington on a blind quest. He and Jared

Shebley would be watching each other with mutual suspicion concerning an antique Chinese chest which

MARGO LANE hurried from the cab as it stopped in front of the Talcott Antique Galleries. With the delay of

rush hour traffic, Margo had hardly hoped to arrive before the place closed, but it was still open.

This trip was the result of a call from Lamont Cranston. He'd phoned from the airport, saying he was leaving

for Washington and wanted Margo to visit the Galleries for him. Still, the trip didn't seem very important.

All Margo needed to do was learn the name of the Washington dealer who had bought the chest of Chu Chan

from Talcott. That learned, she was to call a Washington hotel by long distance and leave word for Cranston.

The reason it wasn't very important was because Cranston had blandly said that he would probably have that

information by the time he reached the capital. Nevertheless, he wanted Margo to check the New York end.

There was no reason for Margo to keep the cab, so she dismissed it. Entering the lighted doorway of the

Antique Galleries, Margo went up a broad flight of stairs to the second floor which constituted the Galleries

The place was really something to take one's breath away, without assistance from the stairs. Though Margo

You came into a row of rooms that could have been called an indoor esplanade. The whole second floor, from

front to back, a distance of nearly half a block, was a succession of wonders. Only in Talcott's could a person

gain a proper appreciation of the ingenuity displayed by the human race during centuries past.

Paintings, pottery, statues, musical instruments, tapestries, furniture the list ran like the spiel of a

department store elevator operator. Only Talcott's items differed from any that you would see in a modern

department store. The things he sold were products of forgotten imagination and handicraft.

Literally wading through a mass of antiques, Margo reached a niche that Talcott called his office only to find

it empty. Continuing further back, she passed a side stairway and came to the sliding door of the final room,

which was the longest of the lot. There Margo saw Dariel Talcott, a tall, stoopshouldered man with a drab,

tired face. Beside the antique dealer was a burly, bearded man whom Margo remembered as Simon Benisette.

Benisette's face was so long that it had a horsey look. People must have marked on that resemblance,

otherwise Benisette had no excuse for growing the red beard that adorned his equine countenance. His style

of beard was badly chosen, however, for he had nurtured the old fashioned kind that spread around from ear

to ear, mostly under the chin. If anything, the beard gave him further claim to his nickname of "Horse Face."

More than "Horse Face" the term "friends" was a stretch of the imagination. Technically speaking, Benisette

had no friends; merely an assortment of passing acquaintances. Being a man who lived much to himself,

Benisette had come to be all for himself, especially when purchasing antiques. He delighted in making

"finds" before other buyers discovered them, and the bearded man was doing that right now.

The fact bordered on the incredible, where Margo Lane was concerned. She couldn't imagine how Cranston

had managed to let this prize slip, if he really wanted it. Yet this was the chest all right, for Margo had seen

pictures of it. Judging from Benisette's manner, he already classed himself as its owner.

Standing nearly six feet high, the chest of Chu Chan looked like an oldfashioned wardrobe cabinet, or more

correctly, it looked like the thing that wardrobe cabinets had been patterned after. It was mounted on six

bulky legs, which might better have been termed feet, since they were shaped like dragon's claws.

The bottom of the chest was very thick, finely carved and ornamented with brass work. About four feet in

width and three in depth, it had a fairly thick top, decorated like the bottom. Brass fittings predominated,

particularly where the doors were concerned. When closed, as they were at present, they made the chest a

Nodding curtly to Margo as she approached, Benisette paused suddenly to note the girl's expression.

Apparently Benisette didn't know that Margo expected the chest to be elsewhere; as a result, he mistook her

"Your friend Cranston was too late," boomed Benisette, ending with a chuckle muffled deep in his beard.

Then, with eyes widening suspiciously, Benisette added: "Unless he sent you here to bid against me, Miss

"Sorry, but he didn't," returned Margo. "Or maybe I'm not so sorry. If this is the famous chest of Chu Chan,

Benisette's wide eyes glared. His brawny hands moved upward, tightening into fists, as though he resented

Rapidly, Talcott moved into the situation. His bent shoulders loomed between Benisette and Margo, his

hands came upward to spread with pleading gesture. His tired face wrinkling with worry, Talcott wheedled:

"Please, please do not dispute about the chest. I'm sure that Miss Lane did not intend to disparage its merits

"Not at all," interrupted Margo. Then, tactfully: "I was thinking only of its size. Why, Lamont has cluttered

his house with so many curios, you can scarcely move around. I don't mean" Margo turned hastily to

Talcott "that is, I'm not criticizing these Galleries, just because they're so packed with antiques. But Lamont

"I understand, quite," interposed Talcott, his worried wrinkles fading with his smile. "A dealer like myself is

"That's right," nodded Margo. "As for the chest of Chu Chan" she turned to Benisette "I must compliment

Begrudgingly, Benisette relaxed. It struck Margo then and there that RedBeard liked arguments and could

become violent in the heat of them. Certainly she could understand why Benisette lacked friends, if a mere

quip could rouse his anger. Just when she thought that she had humored Benisette with a winsome smile, his

violent mood returned. Under the glare of the man's mad eyes, Margo shrank back, only to realize that his

A sallow, slinky man had suddenly arrived within Benisette's range of vision. Turning, Margo recognized the

newcomer as Lionel Graff. She couldn't exactly blame Benisette for disliking Graff, since the fellow was

notorious as an antique buyer, always trying to forestall other bids, often with promises that he later

repudiated. Still, the rage that Benisette exhibited was more than this meeting warranted.

"More of your tricky dealing!" stormed Benisette, shoving his hands toward Graff's throat. "I've warned you

Considering that Benisette's face had reddened to a point that made his beard look pale, he showed admirable

selfcontrol at the last moment. His fingers lost their clutching itch as his hand suddenly drew apart and

clamped, not on Graff's neck, but on his shoulders. Then, roughly, Benisette tried to spin Graff about and

With a snarl, Graff twisted free. Coming around he struck Benisette's hands aside and bounded back against a

squatly Buddha that was seated on a taboret against the far wall. Beside the calm faced Buddha was a bowl

from which extended an incense ladle. Clutching the latter, Graff started to raise it in a pose of self defense.

Benisette quieted with a sneer. Brushing his sleeves as though the touch of Graff's hands had contaminated

"Excuse my temper," apologized Benisette in his booming way. "I forgot that you were keeping open until

Talcott spread his hands pleadingly, as though fearing that Graff's term would enrage Benisette, but the latter

had lost his fever pitch. He was standing now with folded arms, a contemptuous curve upon his bearded lips.

The flush was gone from Benisette's face, but somehow Margo felt that his color now represented white heat

"It's a fair price," began Talcott, addressing Graff, "because after all, Mr. Benisette purchased the Bangkok

"Which has nothing to do with it," interrupted Graff. "One sale does not govern another. You have said that

Before Talcott could reply, Benisette stepped forward, striding slowly as though in haughty selfrestraint.

"More than five thousand," retorted Graff. "In fact, I'll double the bid. I'll make it ten thousand dollars "

"I do." From his coat pocket, Benisette produced a roll too thick to carry in his trousers. "This is the way I

Benisette's hand tightened on the money, but there was too much of it to encircle, even though his muscles

"I've just come from Shebley's," declared Graff. "He'll buy that chest. He really wants it."

"You'd better get Shebley's word for it," taunted Benisette. "Why not phone him, Talcott?"

"Shebley isn't home," admitted Graff. "He left town unexpectedly and his servant doesn't know where he

"No money, no sale," stated Talcott. "Sorry, Graff, but it's my rule in your case."

"You must give me time!" Graff was very earnest. "It well, it might be a matter of life and death to me."

Margo expected Graff to challenge Benisette's taunt. Instead, Graff nearly wilted. He darted looks across his

shoulders as though expecting some of those very creditors to appear. Then, anxiously, Graff pleaded:

"Let me use your phone, Talcott. If I can't reach Shebley, I'll try other people. Maybe they'll believe me when

"Worth your while, you mean," scoffed Benisette. "Like all the deals on which other people lose."

The sudden flush that came to Graff's face was like a reflection of Benisette's earlier mood. Margo wondered,

almost fearfully, what reaction it would bring from Benisette, so she turned to look.

If there was hatred in Graff's glare, Benisette certainly returned it in full measure, but with the same control

that had become his policy. Round, livid balls, in centers of white, Benisette's eyes had a cold ferocity that

Talcott was nodding in Graff's direction. Plucking the sallow man's arm, Talcott gestured him toward the

little office. Turning suddenly, Graff started there to make his phone calls, his fists clenched tightly at his

Margo felt ready to collapse with relief. The strain seemed gone all at once, now that Graff was no longer

within Benisette's reach. Somehow, Margo felt that she had just witnessed a scene wherein murder had been

in the making. Talcott, too, had noticed it, for his shoulders gave a wearied sag. Talcott, too, was very much

The tension of those past few minutes produced an effect that Margo didn't realize at present. Limp as a rag,

the girl was too relieved to think in future terms. That was why Margo didn't recognize that

Margo Lane was standing on the very threshold of coming crime, without realizing it!

THE next ten minutes seemed very uneventful. During that period, Simon Benisette kept muttering to himself

as he inspected the interior of the Chinese chest, rubbing the woodwork and nodding his appreciation.

When he began to examine the outside, Benisette admired the brass work and the carving. Then, abruptly, he

"A fine chest," complimented Benisette. "Worth the five thousand dollars, Talcott. And you are right, Miss

Lane" he gave an appreciative bow "when you say that a place should never become cluttered. My living

room is small and this chest will take up considerable space. But I have an idea!"

His smile broadening, Benisette turned to Talcott and gave a gesture toward the open chest.

"An excellent idea," said Talcott, with a routine nod. "After all, the statue arrived in the chest."

"Even though it didn't belong there," chuckled Benisette, deeply. Then, wagging a big finger: "You rascal,

A hissing tone came from Benisette's lips; his old glare returned, directed toward the office.

"What's keeping Graff?" demanded Benisette. "He can't be talking to anyone who trusts him, because no one

"Easy, Mr. Benisette," interposed Talcott. "By the way, do you have that color picture of the dancer statue?"

Bringing an envelope from his inside pocket, Benisette drew a picture from it. Receiving the photograph,

From its colors, the statue was composed entirely of ivory and jade. It represented a Siamese dancing girl,

seated with crossed legs, her arms folded in front of her with hands stretched straight against her shoulders.

The ivory, an old yellow, formed the girl, while the jade, more precious and therefore sparingly used,

Jade girdle, anklets and bracelets formed the costume, while the realism of the figure was obtained by black

ivory, probably a vegetable variety, that represented the dancer's hair and eyes. Indeed, if Margo had been

shown the picture without knowing what it was, she would have supposed that it was a photograph of a living

"How lovely!" exclaimed Margo. "Why from the tint of that old ivory, it must have been aged for years!"

"And so will I be," snapped Benisette, taking back the photograph, "if Graff doesn't stop making those useless

The man who appeared looked like Talcott's echo. Stoopshouldered, bowing, Homer fitted the term in voice

As Homer went about his duty, Talcott turned toward the office, saying he would hurry Graff. Arms folded,

Benisette kept staring at the chest of Chu Chan until suddenly, he wheeled toward Margo, with sharp query:

"I don't think he could be," replied Margo. "I'm sure Lamont went out of town, too."

"Maybe you're the one who is keeping this place open," he declared. "If I thought you were "

Homer was leaving, having bolted all the metalshuttered windows that turned this room into the equivalent

of a vault. The glare in Benisette's eyes was just too much for Margo to face alone.

"I'll talk to Mr. Talcott," she said, hurriedly. "Maybe he can rush things. Good evening, Mr. Benisette."

Reaching the office, Margo looked back to see Benisette still staring after her. With a flaunt of his folded

arms, Mr. RedBeard turned toward the open chest of Chu Chan, just by way of ignoring the girl's glance.

In the little office, Margo found Graff setting the telephone on its stand with one hand while he mopped his

Talcott listened, but not to Graff. Instead, he and the others heard an enormous bellow that could only have

come from the rear room. It was Benisette, howling the limit of his patience in terms uncomplimentary to

"Sold for five thousand dollars," announced Talcott. "If you want to buy the chest, talk to its present owner,

Considering the trouble to which Talcott had been put, Margo could pardon his rather bitter jest at Graff's

"Money would talk with Benisette!" he exclaimed. "Just as with anybody else! I'll close the deal with him

As Graff went out, Talcott motioned Margo to a chair and took another for himself. While they waited,

Talcott talked wearily of the problems of an antique dealer, wishing sincerely that Cranston had decided to

"I could have sold it to Shebley," added Talcott, "only I couldn't guarantee that it was unique. He wanted to

talk it over with old Professor Frescott up at the Museum of Antiquities. I suppose Frescott was honest with

Margo wasn't listening closely. She was expecting sounds of chaos from the rear room, but apparently

Benisette and Graff had curbed themselves sufficiently to hold a quiet conference.

"Of course Graff would say anything," continued Talcott, after a considerable pause. "But that doesn't mean

Now Margo was listening hard and Talcott paused to watch her. He caught the sound too, heavy footsteps

approaching the door. Both stared as the door opened and in stepped Benisette. The bearded man's face wore

"Now I've experienced everything," declared Benisette, with a deep chuckle. "Imagine Graff trying to do

business with me! By the way" he reached into his pocket "here's your five thousand, Talcott."

"It can wait until tomorrow," said Talcott, "when you send the truck to get it. I'll have the bill of sale made

"You mean profit from Graff?" Leaning his head back, Benisette roared a laugh. "Why, I told that rascal I

wouldn't sell the chest at any price. Frankly, Talcott" Benisette lowered his head as well as his tone "I

"His swindles have caught up with him," added Benisette. "If we don't hear from him again, good riddance. If

he clears town tonight and never comes back, you'll have me to thank for it. I'll make the rounds of the

dealers tomorrow with twice as much as this" Benisette produced his bankroll "and more. From the way

Graff left, he won't be back to tag me and up my bids with other people's money!"

"If you're in a buying mood," returned Talcott, with a profound bow, "be sure to stop here first."

"I'll stop to pick up the chest, anyway," promised Benisette, "but there's not much else in your stock that

Talcott took that comment as a matter of course. From his desk, he produced a large, intricate key which he

"Here's the key to Chu Chan's chest," stated Talcott. "I'd better give it to you before I forget it. The lock is

Nodding, Benisette left the office and strode down the front stairway. Despite the bearded man's amiable

mood, Margo wasn't anxious to follow. She waited while Talcott called for Homer who arrived from the side

stairway and slid a door shut to close and lock the rear room, when Talcott announced that both visitors had

gone. Noting Margo's glance toward the side stairway, Talcott announced that the door below was still open

Margo breathed better when she reached the side street. Meeting Benisette had been an ordeal, to say nothing

of Graff. Margo only hoped that neither was in the taxicab that she saw parked near the corner, so when she

There, from the glow of the dim street lamp against the cab window, Margo saw a face and started back, only

to laugh when she realized it must be the reflection of her own. Only the mirrored image didn't laugh, and

It was a girl's face in the window, but it wasn't Margo's. To her utter amazement, the sort that approached

horror, Margo was staring at features that she had seen pictured only a short while before. Lovely features,

What Margo saw or thought she saw was the lifesized face of the Siamese dancing girl who existed only

As Margo Lane recoiled, the saffron countenance disappeared. Tripping back across the curb, Margo was

caught by the strong arm of a cab driver, who had seen her from a neighboring lunch room and was coming

"Not feeling good, lady?" queried the cabby. "Here, get inside and I'll take you home."

Was the far door closing as the cab driver opened the near one, or was that just another strained thread in the

At least the cab was empty when Margo plumped into the seat. Then the driver was at the wheel, speeding

away from this area where curious recollections built themselves into imaginary realities, if such things could

Relaxing, Margo Lane decided she'd tell Lamont Cranston all about it when he returned from Washington.

Seldom did Cranston smile; almost never was he seen at a breakfast table. Today was one of the rare

exceptions, because he had hopped in from Washington on an early plane instead of rising at the crack of

"So Benisette is calling for the chest as soon as Talcott opens shop," remarked Cranston. "Was that the

Margo nodded, rather sleepily. Cranston had wakened her with a phone call from LaGuardia Airport and

she'd just about had time to reach the restaurant where he said he would meet her. Having reported what

occurred at the Talcott Antique Galleries on the previous evening, Margo was lapsing back to the dream

It was odd, the way Margo's thoughts unclouded. One moment she was viewing the darkeyed face of a

yellow ivory statue that smiled; the next that image was gone, and she was staring at Lamont across the

There was something very calm in Cranston's countenance. At times, it was like a statue too. Only it was the

other way about: Cranston wasn't a statue that came to life; he was a living man who could become singularly

immobile when he chose. At present, his eyes carried a restful gaze as they studied Margo from a face that

"Have another cup of coffee," suggested Cranston. "If it doesn't wake you, you'd better go back to bed.

Margo couldn't think of anything else. She didn't consider the face in the cab window important enough,

because Margo was charging that incident to imagination. Her waking dream confused itself with last night

and since the face belonged to both, it would be silly to even mention it. Besides, Lamont wasn't interested in

"The deal is closed," assured Margo. "Benisette is paying five thousand dollars for the chest and Talcott has

already given him the key. But Benisette will have to send a truck for the chest! It's too big to put in a cab."

"Very probably," replied Margo. "Nobody tried to lift it while I was there, but it looked like a three man job."

Cranston's mood was speculative. Margo knew that he was visualizing the mysterious chest of Chu Chan.

"Only five thousand dollars," calculated Cranston, slowly. "If the chest is worth anything, it's worth more

"Of Shebley's money," Cranston's slight smile was reminiscent. "Only Shebley wasn't around to back it up."

"If he had been," opined Margo, "Benisette might have boosted the bid. Why, he had a bank roll of more than

fifty thousand dollars and he said that today he'd be carrying double that amount."

"Benisette always deals in cash," nodded Cranston, "but I don't think he'd bid higher on the chest."

"I don't know." Again Cranston gave a rare smile. "That's why I don't think that Benisette knows."

That statement cleared Margo's mind, so far as Benisette was concerned. Obviously the bearded buyer

wanted the chest purely as a desirable antique. In contrast, Graff the speculator probably rated the chest on

"Do you mean does he know what the chest is really worth?" asked Cranston. "I don't think so, although he

may. He managed to convince Shebley that the chest was worth plenty, but he wouldn't have told everything

Having met Graff, Margo agreed with Cranston's verdict. Cranston amplified it a moment later.

"Graff is playing a hunch, a long shot, or both," declared Cranston. "His creditors are so close on his heels it

isn't funny. He needs cash or he can't afford to stay around, and that's literal. Being desperate, he'd sell a bill

"So on the face of it, I'd say that any mystery involving the chest of Chu Chan could be classed as a hoax,

pure and simple. Strange things come floating in from the Orient nowadays, but that would be just part of

Graff's build up. But I'm considering the opinion of someone more reliable than Graff."

Margo was very much awake and highly intrigued. Swallowing some more black coffee, she nodded that she

"The esteemed professor is anything but a practical joker," continued Cranston, "yet it was his subtle strategy

that sent Shebley and myself to Washington to play hideandseek with each other. I'm back, but for all I

know, Shebley is still down there looking for me, hoping I'll lead him to the chest of Chu Chan. Frescott

"Because Shebley knows Graff," explained Cranston, "and therefore Shebley may have learned something. I

"Precisely. Therefore Professor Frescott cleared the way for Benisette to buy the chest."

"And given his hand away?" Cranston shook his head. "Never. A curator of a museum doesn't go bidding

around antique galleries. But you can be quite sure that Professor Frescott is somewhere in the offing."

"That's for you to find out." Rising, Cranston gestured to a cab outside the restaurant window. "Suppose you

go down to Talcott's Galleries and be there when he opens shop. Tell him I'll be along a little later; that I'd

"Yes, at the Cobalt Club," replied Cranston. "I want to have a chat with Commissioner Weston. You know,

Margo" the steady eyes took a far away stare "there may be something deep behind this chest of Chu

Chan. The slightest clue, perhaps in the form of some trifling mystery that has baffled the police, may be a

They were going out of the restaurant during Cranston's speech and Margo was actually in the cab and on her

Margo herself could have furnished Lamont with such. That business of the statue face, alive and staring

from the cab window, was the very sort of lead that would have intrigued Cranston in his present mood. But

it was too late to tell him now so Margo resolved to wait until Cranston arrived at the antique galleries.

The cab pulled up in front of Talcott's Galleries. The place was already open and Margo saw Homer staring

from the doorway. As the cab stopped, Talcott's echo started to duck like a scared rabbit, but when he

recognized Margo stepping from the cab he halted. Hardly had Margo paid the driver before Homer was

gripping her by the arm, hurrying her inside the building and up the broad front stairs to the second floor

"I'm glad you came, Miss Lane!" Homer was breathless, worried. "We've been calling your apartment, but

"It's about last night." Homer wasn't interrupting; he was merely continuing his theme after taking time out

for a breath. "You're a witness to what happened, like Mr. Talcott and myself. That is you're a witness to

They had passed the side stairway and were at the doorway of the rear room. The door itself was open and

Dariel Talcott, his worried face drooping to its limit, was standing on the threshold. Peering up from between

his bowed shoulders, Talcott gave his hands a plaintive spread that ended with a gesture toward the chest of

"I'll tell you what's happened, Miss Lane!" expressed Talcott, hoarsely. "There's been murder!"

A sudden horror of her own words made Margo stare about in quest of a body she didn't see. Then her eyes

were back upon the object of Talcott's gesture, the chest of Chu Chan, with its heavy, brassbound door

"Lionel Graff has been missing since last night," declared Talcott in a solemn tone, "and the last man to see

him alive was Simon Benisette when they were standing here beside the chest of Chu Chan!"

THE telephone bell was jangling from Talcott's office, but Margo Lane scarcely heard it. Through her head

was ringing a multitude of other thoughts that were lining up in strictly accountable fashion.

There had been fierce rivalry between Graff and Benisette the evening before, rivalry to the pitch of violence.

Then Graff, most unwisely as Margo now reviewed it, had gone into the rear room alone to make peace with

Together they had waited in the office, expecting another altercation, but there had been none. Later they had

That single word summed the suspicion that Margo now shared with Talcott. Margo was picturing that

meeting in this rear room as short and swift. A mere hint of sarcasm in Graff's speech and Benisette's anger

would surely have unleashed itself again. A fatal blow would have automatically tumbled Graff into the wide

The chest that now stood closed and locked with the key in Benisette's possession!

Noting Margo's horrified stare toward the bottom of the chest's locked door, Talcott shook his head.

"The front is morticed," declared Talcott, "and that door is practically airtight. Blood couldn't flow out under

Margo was shuddering as Homer returned. The palefaced assistant had answered the telephone and was

"Somebody else asking about Graff," stated Homer, shakily. "They've been trying to trace him but he hasn't

"The phone was ringing when we opened shop," explained Talcott to Margo. "One of Graff's creditors was

"No, sir," replied Homer. "I was down at the side door. I'd have seen him if he'd gone that way."

"And you'd have seen him, Mr. Talcott," added Margo, "if he'd gone out the front. You were facing the door

of the office while we were in there; while you were saying you wished Lamont had bought the chest,

"But Graff didn't go out," he emphasized. "It was Benisette who finally came along. That's why I thought

"Benisette said he'd gone out," reminded Margo. "That was when you gave Benisette the key."

"When we unlocked this room this morning," said Talcott, "Homer and I noticed that the chest was shut. It

didn't occur to us that Benisette had locked it to hide something until we received more calls regarding Graff

Again, the telephone was ringing. Homer went to answer it and came back very promptly.

"It's the truckers," the assistant reported. "They are coming for the chest in half an hour."

"That means Benisette will be here first!" exclaimed Talcott. "He's going to move the chest right out, Graff's

"Not here!" interrupted Talcott. "Use the phone across the street. I'll use my phone to call police headquarters

and ask them what to do. You stay here, Homer" pausing, Talcott studied his assistant's frightened face

"no, that wouldn't do, you'd give yourself entirely away. I'll have to talk to Benisette myself."

Talcott was tightening himself as he spoke, in preparation for the difficult task of chatting casually with a

suspected murderer. He was forced to speed the process because of heavy footsteps coming up the front way.

"Down this way, both of you!" Talcott's whisper was hurried as he started Homer and Margo down the side

stairs. "Homer, you find the patrolman on the beat and bring him here, but keep him down below! Miss Lane,

after you've called Mr. Cranston, come back up by the front stairs and wait in my office. Understand?"

Homer was starting down the stairs when he received his order. Margo was following as Talcott gave the

final word, but she paused so Benisette wouldn't hear her, for his footsteps were coming close. Then, drawn

"Hello, Talcott! I've brought the cash for the Chu Chan chest. Let's settle up so I can go about my business.

Margo couldn't quite catch Talcott's reply, for by then she was stealing down the stairs. Hurrying across to the

lunch room, Margo phoned the Cobalt Club only to learn that Cranston had just left. That meant at least that

he was on his way here, which was a great relief to Margo. Then, in accordance with Talcott's instructions,

Margo came around by the front way, sneaked up to the galleries and into Talcott's office.

Talcott was already there. He gestured for silence as Margo entered and frantically motioned for her to close

the door, adding a slow move of his hand that meant to do it quietly. Talcott was holding the phone with his

"It's alright, inspector," said Talcott. "Miss Lane just came in, like I told her... What's that? I'll ask her..."

Margo whispered that Cranston had already left the club for the auction galleries and Talcott relayed that

"Well, Inspector," undertoned Talcott, "I guess that covers it. Benisette is in the rear room, measuring the

chest... Yes, so as to see if it will fit the corner of the living room... No, he didn't mention a word about

"Yes, he paid me the five thousand" Talcott was tapping his vest pocket as he spoke "and he asked me for

the bill of sale... No, I hadn't made it out, so he said I'd better, right away... Yes, he's in the rear room alone

with the chest, but there's nothing he could do... No, there's no other way he could remove the body, except in

"It's to go to Benisette's apartment... Yes, I'm sure, because he told me to give the bill of sale to the truckers

when they arrived... Yes, so they'd know where to take the chest and would know the shipment was really

Pausing, Talcott did some extensive listening and Margo could see his face change. Apparently Cardona had

picked up something from those instructions that hadn't occurred to the art dealer.

"Why, that's so!" exclaimed Talcott. "Maybe Benisette doesn't intend to wait!" He gave an inquiring look at

Margo and pointed in the general direction of the front stairs, only to have Margo shake her head. "No, Miss

Lane didn't see him go out the front way, but he may have used the side stairs... Yes, I'll have her look...

What's that? Oh, yes, if he's still here, we'll try to hold him... What's that?"

Margo didn't hear the final click from Cardona's end of the line. She was stealing out from the office,

working her way toward the rear room. Gaining a look past a cluster of heavy chairs, Margo saw in one view

Turning, Margo gave a signifying gesture to Talcott as he poked cautiously from the office. Arriving around

some of the intervening antiques, Talcott likewise stared into the empty room. Despairingly, Talcott turned

toward the side stairway and muttered unkind things about Homer's failure to return with the neighborhood

"Smart of Benisette to walk right out on us!" expressed Talcott, finally. "He showed his nerve coming here in

"Wait for Inspector Cardona," returned Talcott. "The last thing he said was that he'd start here right away. But

we can be sure of one thing" Talcott threw a grim look at the tight locked chest "we still hold the

That much was certain, too certain to please Margo Lane, who couldn't forbear a shudder as she glanced at

the ghastly chest that needed only a tag to mark it as the last resting place of Lionel Graff.

To Margo Lane, this wait was like a death watch for a victim whose murderer had come to gloat over an

The only hope was that retribution would eventually reach Simon Benisette, man of secret murder. If the law

PEOPLE were arriving at the antique galleries, almost in a group. First, Homer to announce that he'd given

up looking for the neighborhood patrolman because he'd seen the truckers coming along the rear street, so

Next, Lamont Cranston, who strolled in by the front way just as Homer was finishing his report. Before

Cranston had time to lift his eyebrows at Margo's story of Graff's disappearance and how it traced back to his

last talk with Benisette, a full twelve hours ago, Inspector Cardona put in an appearance.

He was a pokerfaced chap, this inspector and a past master at the art of hunches. From the look or lack of

it upon his swarthy countenance, it was plain that Joe Cardona had analyzed Talcott's data down to the last

Nevertheless, Cardona believed in testing theories wherever possible. His procedure in this instance was

simple but effective. Motioning Cranston to one end of the Chinese chest, Cardona set his own stocky form at

the other. When he found the chest too heavy to heft, he beckoned for Talcott and Homer to help, which they

As the chest was tilted and set down again, Margo sensed the sickly but muffled thud of the body it

contained. The others noted it; in fact they could almost feel it through the thick woodwork.

Hardly had the chest settled back to level before loud voices echoed up the side stairway.

"Bring them up," ordered Cardona. "Benisette wants this job shipped to his place, so we'll let him have it."

"An excellent suggestion, inspector," commented Cranston in his calm toned style. "Benisette might even be

"All the better," affirmed Cardona. "Only thanks for the suggestion. I was going to follow the truck

"That's right, Mr. Cranston. Since you wanted to buy the chest, he won't be scared off if he sees you heading

over to his place. In fact it ought to bring him there all the quicker so he can tell you it's no sale and send you

Talcott was sending Homer to summon the truckers. As an added precaution, Cardona decided to step out of

"Rather than lose time," decided the efficient inspector, "I'll phone the commissioner while the chest is going

"And I can call Shebley," added Talcott. "He's the man Graff said would want to buy the chest."

"No. I tried to reach him by telephone, but his servant said he was out of town."

"I don't know," replied Talcott. "Maybe I'd better go over to his penthouse. If he's there, I can bring him to

Cardona gave an approving grunt as he disappeared into the office, with Talcott behind him. Then the

tramping feet of the truckmen were heard arriving from the side stairway. When Homer showed them the

chest and offered to help them with it, they brushed him aside. These three huskies were confident they could

By the time the chest was loaded and the truck was pulling away, Cranston and Margo were in a cab out

front. From then on the trail was constant and deftly handled. This was The Shadow's own cab, piloted by a

hackle named Moe Shrevnitz who knew how to tag along at wellregulated distances.

As they rode, Margo regretted only that Shrevvy had been busy taking Cranston to the airport the night

before. If Shrevvy had been waiting outside the antique galleries, Margo might have had some answer to the

mystery of the Siamese face that she had seen in the cab window. If it had been more than imagination,

However that trifling riddle seemed more inconsequential than ever, now that Graff's murder was an issue.

True, Graff's death could hardly be termed an unsolved crime, since only Benisette could be responsible, but

placing it upon the murderer might be difficult unless more than circumstantial evidence could be found.

All during that ride, Margo kept glancing at Cranston, trying to imbue herself with some of his customary

calm. She'd have to be on hand to identify Graff's body and it wasn't pleasant to anticipate.

When the truck stopped in front of the oldfashioned apartment house where Benisette lived, the cab pulled

right behind it. A few moments later, Cranston was shaking hands with a very surprised but benign old

"This is Professor Frescott," introduced Cranston. "You've heard me mention him, Margo, and not always in

complimentary terms. By the way, just what did I say about the professor after I arrived back from

"I'm sorry about that, Cranston," put in Frescott, his tone carrying a wellpracticed note of sincerity. "I am

afraid that Jared Shebley was misinformed about the chest of Chu Chan." With a beaming smile, the

professor gestured to the chest itself. "You see? It was here in New York all the while."

"And now it belongs to Simon Benisette," remarked Cranston. "Well, I don't suppose he'd mind our looking

They followed the truckers into Benisette's ground floor apartment where the janitor took them to be friends

of the occupant and let them remain. While the truckmen were still placing the chest in its assigned corner,

Margo found herself staring in almost fearful admiration at the Siamese statue which rested on a taboret on

The statue was lifelike, strikingly so, until Margo touched the arms and face and found them solid ivory.

Even then, the solemn stare of the countenance impressed her, so closely did it resemble the imaginary

There must have been something of the hypnotic in those black eyes, so powerful that it seemed to have

pervaded the carver's art. Margo's own eyes were riveted by the coal black beads and she was believing that

even the mere photograph might have stimulated her imagination, when the sound of voices brought her from

Commissioner Weston had arrived and was questioning his friend Cranston regarding the trip from Talcott's.

In a firm but calm tone, Cranston was assuring the commissioner that at no time had the chest of Chu Chan

left his sight while riding on the open truck, a fact which Margo could have confirmed had Weston chosen to

Cranston's word was good enough for Weston, a point which impressed Professor Frescott, whose shrewd

eyes were looking from one to the other. That Frescott was both quick and keen was demonstrated when he

shot a sudden glance to the door, just as it opened to admit Talcott. The antique dealer blinked his surprise at

"He isn't home yet," replied Talcott. Then, with a mistrustful glance at Frescott, the wan man inquired: "You

"I doubt that we shall," put in Commissioner Weston, in the blunt style he always used when taking full

authority. "I told Cardona to remain at your place, Talcott, in case Benisette returned there. But I don't

propose to give a murderer more leeway on the slim chance that he may return to the scene of his crime.

"We must view Graff's body to establish the fact of murder. Since Benisette has the only key to this Chinese

chest, we shall be catering to his whim if we wait longer. Our proper course is to break the lock, which

Using some tools that he had borrowed from the janitor, Cranston set to work. His process looked deft to all

except Margo, who was sure that Lamont could have picked the intricate lock had he chosen to use the tools

and skill that belonged to his other self, The Shadow. At that, the job was rapid, judged in ordinary terms.

From hammer and chisel, Cranston reverted to pliers and with a final twist the lock plunked to the floor.

Uncannily the double door began to open of its own accord. The sight chilled Margo, until she realized that

the body had probably tilted forward and was toppling in inert fashion. Such proved the case, for as the others

dropped back behind Cranston's spreading arms, the dead form literally pitched itself from a huddle and

This was the horrifying occasion for which Margo had been steeling herself during the past hour. She was

braver by far than Talcott, the other person who was here to identify Graff, for Talcott was clear behind the

group, blinking worried across their shoulders, while Margo was actually stepping forward.

One look at Graff's sallow, narrow face was all that Margo wanted. No matter how distorted those features

might be, she'd recognize them, speak the name "Lionel Graff" and be over with this distasteful business. But

as the dead face came rolling upward, all reason flung itself from Margo's brain. Despite herself, she recoiled

It wasn't the death twist on the victim's features that produced Margo's reaction; it was the face itself. The

The dead man wasn't Lionel Graff, the sallow victim everyone expected. Glaring upward with deathglazed

That brain was working rapidly, smoothly, behind the placid countenance of Lamont Cranston.

His keen eyes revealed the fact, eyes that burned with a sudden glow, like those of a connoisseur examining a

masterpiece. Though relentless in his efforts against crime, Cranston never discounted the work of an evil

No one saw that burning gaze, for Cranston was the foremost of the group. If seen, it would have been

mistaken for amazing insight, which it wasn't. Cranston's eyes seldom gave way automatically to the gaze

that marked him as The Shadow. It was his policy not to mix those personalities.

The simple fact was that Cranston, for once, was the most astonished of all persons who viewed a murderer's

handiwork; doubly astonished, being both Cranston and The Shadow. Of this group, only Cranston had not

accepted the absolute notion that the body of Lionel Graff was in the chest of Chu Chan. Cranston had been

prepared to see anything or anybody roll out of that mystery cabinet with the sole exception of Simon

Then, as quickly as it had arrived, The Shadow's surprise was ended. He was Cranston again, the cool, calm

analyst who prodded others into expressing the findings that formulated in The Shadow's hidden brain.

Moving slowly, emphatically toward Benisette's body, Cranston's hand carried all eyes with it until his

forefinger stopped, pointing straight toward the dead man's heart. Or in a more literal sense, to the object that

Burning like a Promethean eye was a crimson bulb that jutted from Benisette's redstained shirt front. Not

blood, but its replica in solid form, a thing that might have crystallized from the final palpitation of the dead

man's heart. Catching the gleam of the sunlight from the window, that carmine object glistened as a

It looked like a ruby, huge in comparison to most gems of its sort. Not only did it mark Benisette's heart; the

brilliant stone formed the exact center of a singular weapon that had fully demonstrated its insidious

It was Professor Frescott who identified the instrument of death. In awed tone he proclaimed:

Pressing forward, Dariel Talcott pressed his way between Cranston and Weston to view the weapon in

"That's right," he agreed. "It's the very dagger that I sold to Jared Shebley. There is no other like it or Shebley

"Unquestionably unique," affirmed Frescott. "A most deadly instrument, that thrusting dagger. I said so

yesterday" blandly, Frescott turned to face his companions "when I examined it at Shebley's."

Nobody looked at Frescott; they were all studying the katar. One thing was certain; to identify that weapon

was as easy as both Talcott and Frescott said. For in delivering death, a katar was forced to reveal its curious

The gleaming Balas ruby naturally attracted most attention, centered in the gold mountings that formed the

crossbar of the stirrup handle. The handguards projecting upward, were conspicuous to a degree, but more

important were the silver segments of the false blade that actually formed a sheath for the deadly spike within

Spread wide, those silver sectors lay like wings across Benisette's breast, each forced up to the horizontal, the

limit to which they could be raised. That limit, however was enough for it had allowed the hidden blade to

With a katar, a killer didn't exactly stab. Rather, he punched the death thrust home, as was obvious in this

case. The stony expression of Benisette's face seemed to hold the moment of surprise that must have petrified

Stooping, Commissioner Weston went through the dead man's pockets. As he did, Weston heard Talcott's

"Look for his money, commissioner. He had a bundle of it; how much, I have no idea, but he peeled five

There wasn't any trace of the money. The murderer must have taken it. The only thing of consequence that

Weston found was the key to the Chinese chest, which fell from Benisette's pocket during the search. Picking

"So you thought that Benisette left your galleries after he talked to you this morning?"

Talcott nodded and Margo did the same. In line with Weston's eyes, she thought she ought to add her silent

"I was thinking in terms of a possible imposture," stated Weston. "People sometimes wear false beards, you

"But it must have been Benisette who arrived this morning," argued Talcott, "because we saw him leave last

"I'm sure it was Benisette who left last night," the girl declared, "and though I only glimpsed him this

"Could anyone else have come into the galleries?" demanded Weston. "This morning, I mean?"

"Quite possibly," replied Talcott, slowly. "But it would have to have happened while Miss Lane and I were in

"I'll do the questioning!" stormed Weston in impatient interruption. "Here's something for you to answer,

"Only this morning," replied Talcott. "You see I stopped at Shebley's coming over here from my galleries.

Shebley always kept the Burmese katar on the table in his curio room. Only it wasn't there this morning."

"But you saw it yesterday, professor," Weston reminded. "What did you do" sharp suspicion flashed from

"Of course not," retorted Frescott. "But I can tell you who could have: Lionel Graff. He was going into

Shebley's just after I came out." Before Weston could make a rejoinder, a tone sharper than his own spoke

The speaker was Jared Shebley, his expression as crisp as ever. With him was Inspector Cardona; behind

them a police surgeon. Shebley gestured to the others as he explained his arrival here.

"I just returned home," stated Shebley, "and found the Burmese katar missing. When my servant told me

Graff had called last night, I had an idea he must be the thief. So I went to Talcott's and found Inspector

"And brought the medico," added Cardona. "I see you've opened the chest, commissioner. Well, suppose we

Even on this scene of tragedy, what happened was funny. Apparently Cardona knew what Graff and

Benisette looked like, as did Shebley. As they stepped forward to look at Graff's face and saw Benisette's

instead, they behaved like a comedy team with their sudden backstep. Then the others present were getting

an idea of what their own faces must have looked like when they saw a suspected murderer lying dead instead

While Cardona and Shebley gaped astonished, the police surgeon, knowing nothing of the mistaken identity,

stooped calmly and withdraw the dagger from Benisette's heart. The surgeon's surprise came when he saw the

halves of the silver casing blade click together so snugly that they left no trace of their joining.

As Commissioner Weston reached for the weapon, his hand came just above the dead eyes of Simon

Benisette. The bearded man's frozen face wore appropriate puzzlement, as for the first time his sightless gaze

was trained upon the mysterious weapon that had slain him. But Benisette's features were gradually setting

into a leer, as though he had cause to gloat over the law's inability to crack this impossible crime.

Perhaps that was the factor that caused Lamont Cranston to gaze toward the real origin of the riddle, the chest

Only when the chest was open could anyone have detected what Cranston did. Until Benisette's body had

sprawled from it, the chest had not been open since last night. Now Cranston was the first to give it close

Without a word, Cranston stepped around Benisette's body and reached one end of the chest, motioning for

someone to take the opposite end. Cardona was the first to respond and together he and Cranston began to

slide it toward the center of the room. Seeing that Cranston wanted the chest to be in the full sunlight, others

Poised at a tilt, the chest of Chu Chan revealed its oddity to all viewers. The inside of its back and sides bore

the pockmarks of tiny holes, a few dozen of them, that weren't visible externally, because of the carved

surface. That these holes were of recent manufacture was evident when Cranston pointed to slight tracings of

"Air holes!" exclaimed Commissioner Weston. "They must have been drilled last night." He wheeled to

"I'll say there are," affirmed Joe. "I was looking them over, to see if I could find anything that Benisette might

"Good hunting, inspector." Weston was rather testy. "But that was before you learned that things were the

Maybe Cardona picked up his next idea from Weston's words. Or possibly it was Cranston who did so and

flashed the hunch to Cardona with a glance. At any rate, the ace inspector played it right to the bull's eye.

"The other way around," agreed Cardona. "That sums it, commissioner. We've found the wrong man as the

victim and that makes the wrong man the killer. I'll tell you who drilled those airholes: Lionel Graff!"

Then, before Weston could quite complete the chain that Cardona dangled mentally before him, the swarthy

"That's how Graff stayed in the chest all night," completed Cardona, "putting himself among the missing. He

was waiting for his chance to murder Benisette with that Burmese dagger. And Graff found it!"

There wasn't a single objection to Cardona's finding among the silent listeners. Rather, faces showed their full

Even a dead man cast his ballot in the affirmative. Stiffening into the first throes of rigor mortis, the bearded

face of Simon Benisette gleamed with happy hatred. In life, Benisette had detested Graff more than any other

It had only needed proper evidence to prove that Lionel Graff had murdered Simon Benisette.

That evidence had been uncovered by Lamont Cranston, the man who was The Shadow!

THE hunt was on for Lionel Graff. Like all quests for a murderer, it began locally and spread itself wide.

Always a slippery character, Graff proved to have been underestimated when the facts began stacking up

against him. Everyone knew he'd been in financial water, but no one had guessed how deep.

Creditors galore began pestering the police with details of tricks that Graff had played on them. The stack of

promissory notes he'd handed to these dupes was so large it had to be arranged alphabetically. Estimates were

putting Graff more than fifty thousand dollars in the red, provided he'd ever intended to pay up.

Among Graff's defaults were bank checks that had bounced so often they hadn't any rubber left. Threatened

with legal action, Graff had been right against the wall that evening he'd come to Talcott's to bid on the chest

Of course, dealers like Talcott had known enough not to trust Graff and they had even warned their customers

against him. Talcott personally provided some data on the subject when he called at the commissioner's office

Cranston was there and so was Cardona. On the commissioner's desk were some of the exhibits from the

Benisette case; having discussed them with others, Weston wanted to do the same with Talcott. Nevertheless,

the commissioner willingly took time out to let the antique dealer recall a few facts concerning Graff.

"All the dealers wondered how long Graff would keep ahead of trouble," informed Talcott. "So did shrewd

buyers like Benisette. They could insult Graff, but we couldn't afford to do so. Not while he still had contacts

"Graff had only Shebley," put in Weston, dryly, "and even Shebley was wary of the fellow."

"I found that out," returned Talcott with a nod, "the night that Graff tried to buy the chest. He pulled every

string or I might say he used every phone wire, there in my office. Whenever he called a man, he began with

"Very, very short." Talcott blinked solemnly. "That's when I realized how desperate Graff was. When people

began calling me the next morning, I wasn't surprised, because I didn't think he could afford to be around. But

Talcott broke off with a recollective headshake as though to chide himself for his false theories. Rising,

"You did good work," complimented the commissioner. "You spotted murder, even though you had it in

The commissioner opened an oblong box to disclose a set of fine finishing tools that Cardona had brought

from the rear room of Talcott's Galleries. Among the tools was a special bradawl with a threaded point.

Among the threads, Talcott could see tiny fragments of wood from the chest of Chu Chan. This was the

"No finger prints," stated Weston. "Graff was smart enough to wipe the handle. However, he forgot that the

boring point might carry evidence. We've taken photographs of all these tools, Talcott, so we'll let you have

He picked up the Burmese katar, gave it a knuckle nudge that sprang the outer blade apart and displayed the

pointed steel. Talcott recoiled at the action, only to have Weston smile and beckon him close. Letting the

silver casing spring shut, Weston used the dagger to point out a set of photographs which showed the katar

"We are keeping these too," said Weston, referring to the photograph. "Shebley can have his precious

souvenir again, when we return the various exhibits. So I want you to check the photographs, Talcott, in case

"They fully represent the katar of Pagan Min," assured Talcott. "I am willing to make an affidavit to that

"Very good. It may save us a lot of trouble later. In the affidavit you can include the dagger's history."

"I know it thoroughly, because I am very particular on such matters. As I told Shebley when I sold him the

Weston interrupted with a hand wave that meant for Talcott to put such statements in the affidavit. Taking the

"None that count," returned Weston, glumly. "The only reports of anyone answering his description came

from places too remote for Graff to reach in the time allowed. Cranston is looking at the reports right now"

"Never mind," returned Talcott. "There's something else I'd rather know about. What's happened to the chest

"Haven't you heard?" Weston laughed indulgently. "You'd better get back to business, Talcott. I supposed

that every dealer in town would know by this time. Shebley is buying Benisette's entire collection."

"Some are, and since his estate will only sell as entire lot, Shebley is buying everything to get what he wants.

With the stare of a bewildered antique dealer, Talcott went out, closing the door behind him. Talcott's

departure was so typical of a man who had lost a real opportunity that Weston lost his smile.

"Poor chap," commented Weston. "He'd have probably liked to buy that lot himself."

"Those antique dealers have a tough time," put in Cardona. "They don't only lose a sale but a customer, when

Tossing the report sheets on Weston's desk, Cranston gave Cardona a pokerfaced stare that rivaled Joe's

"I'd hardly call Benisette's collection junk," remarked Cranston. "It contains some nice items."

"My mistake," apologized Cardona. "Not being a collector, it's all junk to me, particularly that chest of Chu

Chan. There wouldn't have been a murder if it hadn't been around, because there wasn't anything else at

"A good point," agreed Cranston. "You said the shipment was going to Shebley's tonight, commissioner"

Cranston was looking across the desk "but does that include the chest of Chu Chan?"

"It will have to stay at Benisette's," replied Weston, "until we return the other exhibits. As an exhibit, the

chest is the most important of all. We'll take some photographs of it tonight after the rest of Benisette's stuff

Cranston was going somewhere else first. That became plain as soon as he left Weston's office. First he made

a quick phone call from a drugstore phone booth, then summoned a cab and sped uptown, to a favorite

restaurant, where he met Margo Lane, the person he had phoned. Though it was early, Cranston insisted upon

"That's the best of all reasons," replied Cranston, "because we're going to be busy after dark."

Cranston met Margo's impatient question with a bland gaze; then, calmly, he asked:

"I think we can limit the scene of crime," decided Cranston. "Let's class it in terms of where the body was

Margo's exclamation brought Cranston's approving nod. At the same time he passed her the dinner menu,

which she eagerly received. As much as Cranston, Margo was anxious to be on their way by dark on the

IT was in Shrevvy's cab that Lamont Cranston summed up the riddle of Benisette's death in terms of past and

"Benisette was murdered for his money," stated Cranston. "At least that made the proposition profitable,

"More nearly a hundred thousand," calculated Margo. "Anyway, more than Lionel Graff needed to pay off his

"Which he wouldn't then, and couldn't now, even if he wanted." Pausing, Cranston pondered; then: "It's an

"The police tried to spread the mesh faster than he could travel, but Graff outraced them. Only he couldn't

have gone as fast as statistics show. We know when he must have walked out of Talcott's place, here in New

York; yet a man answering his description was seen in Chicago only one hour later and in St. Louis four

What else, Cranston didn't specify right then. They were getting close to Benisette's place and Cranston

"There's something important about that chest," assured Cranston, "and the secret was learned by two men."

"Double zero," scored Cranston. "The two men were Professor Giles Frescott and Lionel Graff."

"As any collector would. Frescott wanted Benisette to get it, so it would fall into the hands of somebody who

The theory was startling, but it had the ring of accuracy. Since Margo's slow nod was visible in the dusk,

"Graff's only bet was to get it into other hands. So he worked on Shebley, telling him the chest of Chu Chan

"Temporarily, yes," declared Cranston, "but Graff became too eager. I have an idea he stimulated Shebley's

interest more than we suppose. Since Shebley is buying the entire Benisette collection in order to acquire the

"Shebley is buying the chest," countered Margo. "He is getting it without Graff's help "

"That's why Graff may come to Benisette's tonight! To get at the chest before it goes to Shebley's! Why, it

"Say rather his best chance," interposed Cranston. "But we're getting close to Benisette's. I'll be seeing you

As the cab slackened, a curious thing occurred. One door seemed to open of its own accord, the door on

Cranston's side. A blot of blackness covered it; then faded. As the door gave a delayed slam, Margo reached

It was useless. Cranston was gone and Margo should have known it. Mysteriously, without Margo even

suspecting it, he had blended into that other self of his, The Shadow. His way of sliding into black cloak and

slouch hat was so amazing in itself that it seemed more incredible every time it happened.

Somewhere in that dusk, a strange weird figure was on the glide, unseen by even the craftiest eyes. How any

ordinary rival would have a chance against The Shadow, Margo couldn't understand. In fact, experience had

shown that the average man of crime wilted the moment he met the Nemesis in black.

But The Shadow wasn't dealing with anybody ordinary right now. Lionel Graff rated as the most sensational

murderer in a decade or more, while Professor Frescott had already shown his crafty makeup by sending

The Shadow, as Cranston, off on a blind trail. As for Jared Shebley, he could be classed as a potent factor

Skillfully, Shrevvy parked the cab at a spot where no light reached the back seat. This gave Margo a perfect

opportunity to watch Benisette's apartment house without being seen. The place was across the street at an

Apparently Shebley, the purchaser, was particular, for the work was being done with care. Everything was

either wrapped or crated, so it was impossible to identify the various art objects. At least one thing was

certain: the chest of Chu Chan wasn't coming out, because nothing of its bulky size put in an appearance. Nor

was it to come out, because a uniformed policeman was on duty and Margo remembered that the chest was

Margo's own purpose here was important. The Shadow expected cross complications; therefore he would

need cooperation. If he flashed a signal, it might be Margo's duty to drop from the cab and put in a phone call

Shrevvy, of course, would drop her near a telephone and be ready on his own to take up any trail The Shadow

ordered. These things had worked out before, but Margo didn't expect the same tonight. Whatever happened

would involve the chest of Chu Chan, which was still indoors and would remain there.

So Margo felt more than a trifle annoyed when she saw that the truck was almost loaded. It wasn't until the

policeman stepped toward the curb that Margo spotted something of consequence. A figure was gliding

across the street, keeping to the darkened patches. Thin and black garbed, that shape wouldn't have been

Bold of The Shadow, thought Margo, to come so nearly into the open. Perhaps he was doing it just so she

would notice and know that he was entering Benisette's. For at the finish, the figure took to the darkness of

the wall, paused there, then whisked right through the doorway behind the backs of the men at the truck.

A sudden impulse swept Margo. If The Shadow's action hadn't been a signal, she could at least interpret it as

such. Opening the door on her side of the street, Margo leaned toward Shrevvy and spoke briefly:

Margo was out and waiting in a darkened doorway when Shrevvy, taking her at her word, started after the

truck. Then, as soon as the policeman went indoors, Margo crossed to the apartment house, wondering how

Hardly had she reached the house before the officer came out. Stepping away from the door, Margo let the

cop go past and saw him turn in the direction of a corner drug store. Of course he'd probably locked the door

Entering, Margo closed the door behind her. The living room was dimly lighted, and strangely different, now

that most of Benisette's curios were gone. In the corner, Margo saw the chest of Chu Chan; its lock had been

repaired, but the door was wide open, so the Chinese cabinet wasn't ominous. Then, as Margo turned about,

she saw that the chest wasn't the only one of Benisette's curios that had been left. Perched on a piano bench,

Sight of that old friend rather startled Margo; then, approaching the image, she laughed. Yellow ivory, jet

eyes, and jade trappings made an attractive combination, but they certainly weren't as lifelike as Margo had

Siamese dancers should cultivate graceful poses instead of sitting solemnly with artificial faces staring

between the spread hands of crossed arms. Whoever had carved this mass of ivory and added its paucity of

Even the black eyes looked dull in this light. Looking right into them, Margo realized that the glimmer of

sunlight must have caused her former impression; that, plus her tense feeling when she had been waiting for a

body to pop from the closed chest of Chu Chan. Of course, the foolish dream could have helped; but Margo

had long since wiped away the silly recollection of this same ivory face peering at her from a cab.

Margo must have lost a few moments, at least, in realizing that a sharp click had come from the door of the

apartment, which was directly behind her. It couldn't be The Shadow, for he would have entered silently. So

In her coat pocket she had a small automatic that she always carried on dangerous excursions. Pulling the

weapon, Margo wheeled around and pointed it straight toward the door. Her back toward the Siamese statue,

she saw a man who was closing the door behind him and though he drew one arm across his face, Margo was

"Hands up, both of them," ordered Margo. Then, deciding to keep Frescott guessing, she added: "And make it

Frescott brought his other arm up, trembling, the action momentarily covering his face still further. Then,

before Margo could gain a good look at him, he spoke in a forced voice that didn't sound like his own.

Two twining things like snakes wrapped themselves around Margo's neck so suddenly that her breath choked

off as her head went back. Taken from her feet, Margo flung her arms frantically and lost the gun as she tried

Like something out of a nightmare, she saw the face of the Siamese statue, alive and active, but with its

solemn expression unchanged. Its eyes were staring down into Margo's own, but the face was upside down as

Maybe the case was the other way about, for Margo certainly was in whirl when she struck the floor. She had

an impression of Frescott pouncing forward to aid the creature that had staged the initial stroke.

Then everything went black, so very black that Margo Lane could not have seen The Shadow, if he had

PATROLMAN CASSIDY, returning from the corner drug store, stopped short of Benisette's door and stared.

What Cassidy stared at was blackness, too much of it. The blackness formed a cloud that blocked out the light

from the back of the hall, which wasn't sensible because the light had been burning when Cassidy left.

Maybe the bulb had burned out. To find out whether or why, Cassidy began ducking his head left and right,

only to have the blackness swirl with him. So Cassidy drew his revolver, aimed it at the blackness and halted

He was pointing his gun right at the missing hall light, burning as bright as ever!

It didn't occur to Cassidy that the blackness could have dwindled in crouching fashion. The fadeout had

deceived him because the light, again unveiled, had caught his eye. What the patrolman had actually seen was

The Shadow, approaching Benisette's apartment from the rear hall, only to retire at Cassidy's return.

All this was in curious contrast to Margo's impression of The Shadow entering by the front door. It was

possible that The Shadow could have continued through to the back, though why was a debatable proposition.

However at this present moment, Margo Lane was in a place where the consideration of such problems

Back in the rear gloom of the hallway, The Shadow watched Cassidy try the door of Benisette's apartment

only to find it locked. Bringing the key from his pocket the patrolman opened the door and entered. As he

did, blackness moved toward him again, sidling past the glow of the hall light in case Cassidy turned to look.

Inside Benisette's apartment, Cassidy was staring at a piano bench. He removed his cap to scratch his head,

though why a blank bench should have perplexed him was something else again. Cassidy might better have

studied the chest of Chu Chan, standing locked in the corner, but he didn't. Indeed, Cassidy was so puzzled

that he failed to hear the slight sound of a window sash being lowered into place, somewhere at the rear of the

The Shadow heard it and was away, out through the back hall. He was on a trail that he had picked up earlier

in back of the apartment house; that of Professor Frescott. The Shadow had spotted the benign worthy

sneaking in through an alleyway, but in keeping with his plan of learning other people's secrets, he'd let

Now the situation was different. With Frescott departing, it might be policy to follow him elsewhere. So The

Shadow reasoned until he reached the back door and pressed it open. The door creaked; not enough for

Frescott to hear, for The Shadow could see the professor sneaking along beside a fence; but there was

From a trellis beside the doorway, two powerful tendrils emerged like segments of a powerful, living vine,

and wrapped themselves around The Shadow's neck with the tightening force of a boa constrictor!

This wasn't the way to treat The Shadow. He proved it by his lunging twist. It was like a jungle combat

between a python and a tiger with the verdict going to the latter. Ending his roundabout lurch with a mighty

fling, The Shadow crashed his opponent right through the trellis, sending both on a scaling flight that ended

There was an oddity about the flying figure. One moment it was dark, like The Shadow, as if clad in an

enveloping cape. Next it was all a dullish white, a lithe thing twisting in the darkness. It seemed to roll into

the folds of the garment it regained and it was gone again with a fading process that almost matched The

Cassidy was responsible. He'd heard the bashing sound from the back yard and had taken the shortest line

toward it, right through to the rear of Benisette's apartment. Such a trifle as a window didn't bar Cassidy when

he was in a hurry. The burly patrolman smashed right through the pane and showed his head and shoulders,

Shots came from Frescott's corner of the fence. Bullets bashed the house wall between Cassidy and The

Shadow. In reply, an automatic boomed from the rear porch, whining its leaden messages above the spot

where Frescott crouched. There was a wild scramble as the professor darted out through the rear passage,

with a small limber shape scudding after him. The Shadow didn't see that figure go, for Cassidy was

Strictly a shortrange marksman, the patrolman decided to settle the sharpshooter on the back porch,

particularly because there was an advantage in aiming along the line of the house wall. It gave Cassidy a

chance of ducking back into the window, which was helpful, but The Shadow had a similar advantage and

therefore took it. The Shadow simply went back into the door and waited there while the patrolman wasted

bullets. But by the time the shooting ended, it was too late to follow Frescott.

His gun empty, Cassidy tilted his head and decided that his adversary might have doubled around through the

hallway. So Cassidy took a similar course and rushed frontward through the living room. At the open door of

the apartment, he ran squarely into a calm faced man who paused in apparent surprise.

A few moments later, this gentleman was introducing himself as Lamont Cranston, a friend of the police

"The commissioner said to be expecting you," recalled the patrolman. "I was just calling him down from the

drug store, the line being disconnected here. A bit of some shooting had me busy out back, but I've chased

"It's here where I belong; them's the commissioner's orders, so I'm following them. But there's a bit of a

mystery bothering me, unless my imagination is at fault. Look over there, Mr. Cranston, and tell me what you

Cassidy gestured to the vacant piano bench. After a glance, Cranston shook his head.

"And that's just the trouble, Mr. Cranston. There was a statue sitting there" Cassidy rubbed his chin "or

"They must have," returned Cranston, "because the commissioner said that everything was to go except the

chest of Chu Chan. Of course someone could have put the statue in the chest, only the chest is locked."

"It was open, I thought," said Cassidy, staring at the chest. "It's a funny place, this apartment, but maybe it

was just the moving men closed the chest. Anyway, we'll leave it until the commissioner gets here."

Cranston lifted his hand for silence. His keen ear caught a sound so feeble that it entirely escaped Cassidy's

attention. In fact, the patrolman would never have detected it, for the weak scraping diminished and ceased

altogether as Cranston listened. Cranston's order to Cassidy was quick, but calmtoned:

Cassidy had it and produced it. A quick twist of the key in the lock and the double door came open. Out

rolled a limp, gasping figure that collapsed in Cranston's arms. It was Margo, her breath gone almost to the

Bringing Margo back was easy, now that she had air again. What Cranston wanted was a chance to talk to her

alone. Without waiting for Margo's story, Cranston told her what she was to say and the girl nodded, only to

Shortly Commissioner Weston arrived upon the scene with his inevitable companion, Inspector Cardona.

"I told Margo to meet me here," declared Cranston, calmly. "She arrived first and somebody flung her into

the chest of Chu Chan. They must have skipped out the back way because Cassidy says he heard some

"They couldn't have been here long," assured Cassidy, "because I was only gone five minutes. But it's my

"That Siamese thing?" queried Cardona. "It should have gone to Shebley's with the rest of the goods. I'll

Weston had finished an inspection of the shattered rear window when Cardona returned.

"Unlatched," stated the commissioner, bluntly. "That's how the thieves got in and stole the statue."

"Only they didn't steal the statue," returned Cardona. "Shebley says he's already unpacked it and it's on a

Weston threw an accusing glance at Cassidy, who looked quite sheepish. That was sufficient rebuke for the

patrolman's lack of memory; Weston softened the impeachment by commending him upon his prompt

dispatch of the unsuccessful burglars and further congratulated Cassidy for remaining at his post.

Cardona summoned the photographers to take pictures of the chest, both shut and open; then arranged for the

repair of the broken window. Weston decided that the sooner the chest of Chu Chan was shipped to

Shebley's, the better, but meanwhile Benisette's apartment would remain under constant guard.

It wasn't until she left with Cranston that Margo told the story of her meeting with Professor Frescott and its

singular sequel. Even in the safety of Shrevvy's cab, Margo shuddered as she added:

"The statue had something to do with it, Lamont! Somehow it seems to come alive. I'd charged it to my

imagination, but I'm sure I saw that statue's face peering at me from a cab outside of Talcott's Galleries."

"It sounded like Ankhea," recalled Margo. Then, in awed tone, she queried; "Do you think it could be some

"More probably it is a name," replied Cranston. "The name of the living statue, to be precise. It was foolish of

"If you mean Lionel Graff, no," replied Cranston, firmly, "because you proved that Graff didn't murder

"Suspicion of Graff is based on the assumption that he waited overnight in the chest of Chu Chan," stated

Cranston, "in order to murder Benisette later. I am now sure that Graff left New York that night and that

"Simply because Graff couldn't have stayed in the chest overnight. How long were you inside it, Margo?"

"About ten minutes, I suppose. I was blotto at first, but when I woke up I was almost suffocated. Why!"

"That the airholes were drilled in the chest as a bluff," supplied Cranston, "to make it look as though Graff

had stayed there. You tested them for us, Margo, even though you didn't intend to do so. The holes weren't

"He might be," replied Cranston, cryptically, "but he's not the only man who is interested in the chest of Chu

Cranston ended with that statement, but it was plain that he must have had in mind the name of Jared

Such was the token of The Shadow's sanctum, a hidden room in the heart of Manhattan which served as base

On a polished surface beneath the glowing blue were spread documents of every description from newspaper

clippings to large scale global maps. As his keen eyes studied the data before him, The Shadow's hand made

Not merely words, those notations. The Shadow was drawing diagrams, calculating distances, even sketching

from memory a life sized Siamese statue of old ivory adorned with beads of jet and jade.

Perhaps The Shadow would have sketched the chest of Chu Chan and the katar of Pagan Min, had such

drawings been necessary. They weren't needed, however, because they were pictured in police photographs

Commissioner Weston was very cooperative toward The Shadow, without knowing it. Weston had the notion

that his friend Cranston really possessed a keen brain, if he'd only use it, hence the commissioner was always

Cranston encouraged this through an attitude of indifference, the surest way to make Weston persist with

something. As a result the commissioner was constantly loading his friend with crime reports and

photographs, which Cranston usually returned later with apologies for having neglected them.

It really annoyed Weston, the way that Cranston ignored things that should have interested him. It never

occurred to the commissioner that the data he furnished was invariably "borrowed" by The Shadow while

Of course it was all one and the same, but that was a very special secret. The less that Lamont Cranston

appeared to know about a current crime, the more credit The Shadow could take for cracking it.

The basic problem in The Shadow's survey was still the murder of Simon Benisette. That crime had created

plenty of surprise purely because of the original theory that Lionel Graff was the likely victim in the chest of

Chu Chan. The theory had sounded plausible enough when put by Dariel Talcott, because Graff had been

After recovering from the shock of finding Benisette a victim instead of Graff, the law had formed its own

theory and a logical one indeed. The business of boring holes in the chest and staying there overnight to

The airholes weren't sufficient, as Margo's experience had proven. They were a bluff, a blind; in fact a

canard, since they weren't air holes at all. Graff couldn't have stayed in the chest overnight; hence he couldn't

have been in Talcott's strong room, since the place offered no object other than the chest as a suitable hiding

Reaching to a sheet of paper that bore a list of names, The Shadow drew a line through the one that topped

Now it was true that Graff might have picked up Benisette's trail in the morning, followed him to Talcott's

and sneaked in by the side door. There had been time for a murderer to go upstairs, make quick work of

Just about time enough, by The Shadow's precise calculation of the time element, based on a comparison of

estimates given by Talcott, Margo, and Cardona. But with the doubt in Graff's favor, The Shadow had good

Under the blue light were those reports that the New York police had disregarded because they didn't fit with

the accepted theory. Those were the reports from Chicago and St. Louis stating that Graff or someone like

him had been seen there sooner than he could have arrived following Benisette's death.

A handy airplane schedule proved that Graff could have gone from Chicago to St. Louis fast enough to be

seen in both cities as reported. Tracing back, The Shadow considered it obvious that Graff had skipped for

Chicago the night before, after leaving Talcott's Auction Galleries as Benisette himself had declared, which

The answer was lying among The Shadow's exhibits in the form of a newspaper clipping from that city.

Marked with the hour as well as the day it had been printed, the clipping proved that the newspaper had been

This clipping told of Benisette's death and named Graff as the murderer. Already wanted by the law for

fraudulent activities, Graff had done the logical thing for a man of his ilk in his position; that was, he'd

The hunt was still on, which pleased The Shadow; therefore he hadn't announced his findings. Graff's

apprehension was necessary in order to obtain his valuable testimony and The Shadow knew that police

throughout the country would be more ardent in hunting down a murderer than a less spectacular criminal.

What The Shadow wanted to learn from Graff were any facts that the missing man might know about the

mysterious chest of Chu Chan, which still loomed as a potential for murder. Benisette's money had been

stolen, but that was a natural consequence. The murderer wouldn't have left it even if he hadn't wanted it,

In this strange case, The Shadow wasn't rushing to conclusions. He wanted to check every item doubly and

even then, he'd be ready to accept revision. Once more, he traced over the floor plan of the Talcott Art

Galleries and made sure that the time element would have allowed a man to murder, enter, and leave just

The laugh, in that curtained sanctum, carried a strange, significant shudder. The walls had a habit of tossing

back the mirth in the form of sinister mockery. Withal it gave the impression of omniscience on the part of

Anyone hearing that laugh would be convinced that The Shadow knew all. But no one could have heard it;

therefore no one of The Shadow's findings could have reached either of the two men whose names he now

Though Frescott pretended that the chest didn't interest him, he had deliberately plotted to keep Shebley from

buying it on Graff's advice. Frescott knew that Shebley might have learned some secret regarding the chest

Letting the chest go to Benisette, the man who knew nothing, was a smart move on Frescott's part. In fact he

had shown his hand by his daring trip to Benisette's apartment the last night the chest had remained there.

Obviously Frescott had intended all along to get at the chest when it reached Benisette, who had purchased it

Even under the difficulties which later arose, Benisette's apartment had proved a much easier place to enter

than Shebley's ironclad penthouse. Nevertheless, the chest of Chu Chan was going to Shebley's after all,

which may heave been the reason The Shadow's pencil passed the name of Frescott and paused above that of

Again The Shadow toned a laugh, this time a reflective taunt that shivered back in echoing whispers.

There was good reason not to cross off either of those names. One man's guilt would of course prove the

other's innocence, but with Graff's elimination, suspicion rested equally between Giles Frescott and Jared

The chest of Chu Chan rated only as an objective so far as either of those men might be concerned. There was

That item was the Burmese dagger, the unique katar that had once belonged to Pagan Min. Except for Graff,

no longer a factor in The Shadow's language, only two men had been favored with an opportunity to carry

that insidious weapon from the penthouse curio room and use it as an instrument of murder.

One man had been a lingering visitor, Giles Frescott; the other was the dagger's owner, Jared Shebley!

Giles Frescott looked over the top of his reading glasses and beamed as only he could. He was a happy sort,

As on a previous afternoon, Lamont Cranston had dropped by at the Museum of Antiquities hoping to find

the curator there. This time Cranston was in luck, for Frescott was in his office.

"I was thinking about you, Cranston," continued Frescott, cheerily. Then, as his face clouded: "I'm afraid

though that the thought was sponsored by my reflections on the unfortunate business of Graff and Benisette."

"To put it more briefly," suggested Cranston in a casual tone, "you might call it the business of the Chinese

"Except as a convenient coffin," reminded Cranston. "You were somewhat responsible for that, professor. If

either Shebley or I had bought the chest of Chu Chan, Benisette wouldn't have come home in it."

"It was all a mistake," he claimed. "I mentioned an idle rumor to Shebley and he took it literally. When he

started off to Washington, I assumed that my remark must have confirmed something he already knew. So of

"Of course," Cranston nodded. "You were very prompt, professor. You must have called me right from

A sharp flash came to Frescott's frequently keen eyes. Did he suspect the deeper impeachment that Cranston's

Nothing in Cranston's calm demeanor could have verified any such suspicion, but the remark stood. It meant,

in substance, that Cranston knew that Frescott could have picked up the Burmese thrusting dagger between

It would have been obvious rather than smart for Frescott to harp back to Graff, the man already branded as a

murderer. If Cranston thought that he was being subtle, Frescott could be the same.

"At least you arrived back early from Washington," recalled Frescott. "I mean early the next morning. I

A cunning touch, this, an intimation that Shebley could have stopped back at his apartment and picked up the

Burmese dagger if Graff had not taken it the night before. What Frescott was doing was accepting the

possible elimination of Graff as murderer only to throw suspicion on Shebley as the most likely alternate.

It was as if Frescott had guessed the very findings made by The Shadow in his sanctum, the hidden place

wherein he had switched back to his guise of Cranston only a short while ago. Perhaps Frescott was actually

connecting Cranston with a mysterious cloaked figure that had appeared at Benisette's while the professor

As Cranston, The Shadow's best policy was to divert the theme from the question of the Burmese dagger. So

"Why Shebley wanted the chest of Chu Chan is the real question," was Cranston's verdict, "but now that he

"I could tell him that," asserted Frescott. "The chest of Chu Chan dates from the Eighth Century. It belonged

"KomyoKogo was quite a patron of the arts," defined Cranston. "In a sense, she was too good a patron, for

she employed artisans to revive the crafts of previous dynasties. It is therefore often difficult to tell whether

Slow, approving nods formed Frescott's accompaniment to Cranston's dissertation.

"That is why I am only mildly interested in Chinese antiquities," stated Frescott. "It is too difficult to identify

them as such. Something copied from an original of an earlier century is simply a reproduction, even after the

"You mean at the time the reproductions were made? Of course, but how can we hope to probe into that

"By examining all records relating to the period of KomyoKogo. An empress who patronized the arts would

"Such things were done," he admitted, "but often at the expense of previous records. For instance" he rose

from his desk and stepped to a cabinet in a corner "I can show you some samples of ancient palimpsests

parchments which have been used several times, the earlier writings always being erased."

"I am referring to more permanent records," declared Cranston in his even tone. "The art of engraving upon

"Imagine what a discovery it would be," added Cranston. "A catalogue from the past, establishing the precise

period in which many rarities were created. Why, such a record would be of tremendous value "

"To a collector, yes," put in Frescott, quickly, "since it would enable him to corner the market on actual

antiquities." Slowing his tone, the professor added: "But not to the curator of a museum."

"Why not?" insisted Cranston "You specialize in antiquities, don't you, professor? You have already

"Only when they are misrepresented," interrupted Frescott. "Come, Cranston" the professor strode briskly

toward the door "and I shall show you exactly what my sentiments are. We shall visit the Babylonian

Frescott led the way along a corridor and down a flight of hollowsounding stairs. As he followed, Cranston

"At least something is known about Chu Chan," reminded Cranston. "During all the years he lived in Hanoi,

"They even say that Chu Chan had intended to establish a museum," continued Cranston. "First he was

negotiating with the Chinese government; then with the French in IndoChina. In turn, both were interested

"Of course Chu Chan wouldn't trust the Japanese," added Cranston, "because nobody of intelligence would.

Whatever Chu Chan valued most, would be the thing that he would least desire to have the Japanese acquire."

This time Frescott made response, but not regarding Chu Chan. Halting in front of a large metal door, he

Entering, Cranston kept an eye on Frescott, who immediately followed. Turning on a light, Frescott revealed

rows of large clay tablets, standing on shelves around a brickwalled room. The tablets looked like flat trays

At the inner wall of the crypt was a special shelf bearing a set of tablets that looked darker than the rest. "The

original set," explained Frescott. "Genuine sunbaked clay from Naishapur. As for the rest" he swept his

hand around the crypt "they are merely replicas, manufactured at my order. Do you begin to understand,

"These reproductions will go to other museums," continued Frescott, "so that students can study the actual

Babylonian inscriptions. But there will never be any doubt that they are merely imitations. I am a stickler on

such matters, Mr. Cranston" the professor smiled pleasantly "and that is why I prefer the antiquities of

Professor Frescott added a flourish to his gesture and the wave of his hand took in the open doorway. Then,

"My word! I shall miss my appointment! I must leave at once, Mr. Cranston, but you are welcome to remain

and study these Babylonian tablets at leisure. You will find smaller ones in boxes under the shelves."

With a nod, Cranston accepted the invitation, as a matter of policy. But he strolled along with Frescott as the

professor went to the door of the crypt. Nor did Cranston turn back into the brickwalled room until he heard

It was then that something stirred from the corridor side, something that had silently approached and taken its

position behind the open door, to look through the crack and catch that final trifling gesture given by

Suddenly sensing danger, Cranston turned about, too late. Before he could reach the metal door, it was

swinging shut under the driving weight of a figure from beyond it. Though his strides toward the door were

Outside, the barring latch dropped automatically, trapping Lamont Cranston within the Babylonian crypt!

The dim corridor revealed only a vague figure outside the crypt door, a slender form attired in a dark gray

cape. Then, stepping away, this helper who had come at Frescott's summons turned into the light, revealing a

The Shadow's trapper was Ankhea, the girl who was aiding Professor Frescott in his quest for the chest of

COMMISSIONER WESTON was seated in his favorite haunt, the grillroom of the Cobalt Club, when an

attendant entered to announce Professor Giles Frescott. Though he hadn't expected this visitor, Weston said

that he would see him, so the professor was shown into the commissioner's presence.

What Frescott had brought was a bundle of bulletins, pamphlets, and other data on Chinese and Malaysian

art. Frescott felt that these would be helpful to the commissioner in determining the motive behind Graff's

Weston showed Frescott the courtesy of thumbing through some of the pamphlets and even used a table knife

to open a few of the many uncut pages. But the idea of reading them bored him and the commissioner must

"It was Cranston who recommended that you read these. He mentioned it up at the museum "

"So that's it!" interrupted Weston. "Cranston's excuse for not going through those crime reports will be that I

"Not that I remember." Frescott gave an absentminded gaze. "As I recall it, Cranston was chiefly interested

Weston gave a contemptuous snort; then, picking up Frescott's package of pamphlets, the commissioner

gestured for the professor to follow him upstairs. Reaching the desk near the foyer door, Weston placed the

"Here are Talcott's finishing tools." Weston rattled the oblong package that contained the items named. "And

this" he lifted another bundle that was oddly shaped and heavy for its size "it's Shebley's precious katar. I

shall put your package with them, professor. In case you need it, you can call for it."

"That won't be for a few days," returned Frescott. "I want to give you time to read the pamphlets."

"I've already said I'm leaving that to Cranston," reminded Weston. "By the way, what is the phone number at

"There's no extension to the crypt," he explained. "No phone cord would go through the airtight door. By

the way, commissioner" in absentminded style, Frescott changed the subject "has the chest of Chu Chan

"It went there this afternoon," replied Weston. "Shebley is stopping here later for the Burmese katar. It's odd,

though" Weston's own tone was reflective "that Cranston should forget that I expected him here."

Weston was walking toward a phone booth, as though intending to call the museum anyway. Following

"I hope Cranston didn't forget to hook the door of the crypt," he commented. "It swings shut very easily and

In the phone booth, Weston started to call the museum, intending to have one of the attendants go to the crypt

and summon Cranston. It struck him that it would be better to have Frescott give the order, but when Weston

looked around, the professor was gone. Then Frescott's words about "going home" suddenly jarred Weston's

If Frescott was going home, the museum was probably closed, except for a night watchman who wouldn't be

answering phone calls. Remembering suddenly that Frescott lived miles out on Long Island, Weston realized

Over Weston swept the greater realization that right now Cranston might actually be locked in the airtight

crypt, in need of immediate rescue. The phone bell was ringing but producing no result from the museum.

On the way out of the Cobalt Club, the commissioner ran into Inspector Cardona who was just arriving there.

Grabbing Cardona's arm, Weston hurried him to a big official car, intending to explain matters on the way to

There was another person who was wondering about the missing Mr. Cranston; namely, Margo Lane. At that

moment, Margo was at Talcott's Antique Galleries, hoping for a few words with the proprietor. Busy with

customers, Talcott left suddenly to answer a phone call and Margo followed him to the office.

Naturally Margo wasn't impolite enough to dash after Talcott, so he was well into his conversation when she

"I can't see why you called me," Talcott was saying. "Well, yes, I'm the one person who might believe you...

"I see," said Talcott. "Yes, Frescott did have an equal opportunity to steal the dagger... Of course, if you get

Noting Margo's arrival, Talcott cut off abruptly. He gave the girl a quick glance; then spoke into the

There was a touch of indignation in Talcott's tired manner as he turned toward Margo. Meeting an issue fairly

"Sorry, Mr. Talcott," said Margo. "I didn't mean to interrupt. But since I did overhear, just what would

"That's what you were telling him," replied Margo, "right after he must have said something about Professor

Talcott tightened his lips as thought trying to withhold something; then he relaxed with a sheepish smile.

"But what gave Shebley the idea?" queried Margo, wondering secretly if Cranston's theory had spread

around. "I thought it was thoroughly established that Graff murdered Benisette."

"It was," acknowledged Talcott, "but you can't satisfy Shebley with anything. He's always full of crackpot

Picking up the telephone, Talcott dialed a number and soon was speaking to the Cobalt Club. Asking for

Weston, Talcott learned that the commissioner had left in a great hurry without saying when he would be

back. Resting his chin in his hand, Talcott stared at the wall, then turned to Margo.

"I can't talk to Shebley," declared Talcott, in a tired tone, "but you might, Miss Lane."

"About this Frescott business," replied Talcott, "because your friend Mr. Cranston was deceived in the same

"That's right. I think that's what is bothering Shebley. You see Shebley trusted Graff more or less; in fact

"That's the way it stands right now. But Shebley will expect me to agree with him on everything, because he's

one of my best customers. I wouldn't mind talking to him, but I think somebody else ought to break the ice."

Margo thought it over; then realizing that if urgent business had called Weston from the Cobalt Club it would

"Right away," replied Talcott. "Over at his place." Stepping to the door, Talcott looked out into the galleries

and returned with a pleased nod. "The customers have gone," he added, "so I'll have Homer lock up the place.

If there are any calls I'll tell him not to answer them. We'll let Shebley wait until we get there."

The plan pleased Margo Lane immensely. It struck her that she was just the person to sound out Shebley's

sentiments on the Frescott question. Certainly there was much to gain and nothing to lose.

IT was a twentyminute ride to Shebley's from Talcott's, in a direction directly away from the Cobalt Club.

In fact, the Antique Galleries were just about midway between the two places, so Margo was putting herself a

If she'd guessed that Lamont had been foolish enough to get locked in a crypt at the Museum of Antiquities,

Margo could have added further minutes to her estimate of distance. But Margo was too busy hatching plans

The plan worked out very simply. When they reached Shebley's, Margo was to go up to the penthouse while

Talcott waited in the lobby. After ten minutes, Talcott would either come up or call up, so Margo could

The cab happened to be Shrevvy's, so Margo talked loudly enough for the driver to overhear and Talcott's

tone was about the same. So when they alighted from the cab in front of Shebley's, Margo was quite sure that

There was nothing pretentious about the lobby in the apartment house where Shebley lived. There was no

office, no direct phone to the various apartments, simply a paybooth in a corner of the lobby. The elevator

was the automatic type, so Margo entered it and pressed the button marked "Penthouse."

After the end of a rattly ride, Margo opened the door and stepped into premises that flabbergasted her.

The shabby appearance of the apartment house in general didn't apply to the penthouse. The place was

magnificently furnished with softtufted rugs that led into a sumptuous living room. Though only eight

stories up, the windows of the penthouse afforded a fine view toward the river, or would have except for the

From another window, Margo saw a terrace, part of the penthouse setup and realized that Shebley had

chosen his location well. This was just the sort of place to live free from worry; or so Margo would have

The man with the tightdrawn face sprang from a living room chair the moment that Margo entered. His

hand went to the pocket of the dressing gown that he was wearing; then relaxed. In the indirect light of the

handsome living room, Shebley let his lips break into a smile which he probably thought was equally

Shebley looked scared, so scared that he was ugly. His peculiar mood threw its effect on Margo, who began

to get jittery, too. Then, when Shebley lowered his dry voice to a soothing tone, Margo began to feel that his

whole manner was a sham. Maybe he thought it fun to frighten visitors; but at least he was courteous enough

"So it's you, Miss Lane," spoke Shebley. "I thought I was imagining things again, like the elevator coming up

Pretty thin, thought Margo. If Shebley wanted to have her keep the shivers, talk of bats batting windows

"Do they?" Shebley seemed quite pleased. "I'll have to ask Claude about it. He's my man, Claude, but this is

Margo already knew of Claude's reliability. The police had grilled him like a hamburger when checking on

the theft of the Burmese dagger. Claude's word would stand on about anything. Margo felt herself wishing

"I ought to be getting down to the Cobalt Club," remarked Shebley. "I'm supposed to pick up that Burmese

curio of mine, the item with the Balas ruby in the handle." Shebley seemed anxious not to refer to the katar as

the weapon that it was. "But I couldn't go out, not unless Claude was here. On account of the chest of Chu

"Too many people are interested in that chest," explained Shebley, with another of his widesplit smiles. "I

suppose you'd like to see it, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Well, you're quite welcome, Miss Lane, since

"I'd trust Cranston any time." Shebley seemed straining to put sincerity in his tone. "He's the one man that I'm

It was neat, that word, the way Margo put it. Just about Shebley's tone and style, but with a slight upward

inflection. If Shebley caught the sarcasm, he didn't show it. Instead, he bowed Margo into the famous curio

Just across the threshold, Margo started back abruptly. It wasn't sight of the chest of Chu Chan that jolted her,

even though she'd spent unpleasant moments in the thing. What produced the real shivers was Margo's view

"Lifelike, isn't it?" queried Shebley. Going over to the statue, he tapped its arms. "Real ivory and a better item

than I realized, even though it isn't unique." Fingering the eyes, he added: "These are fine specimens of jet,

while the jade" he stepped back to appraise the statue "is an excellent shade of apple green, which marks

Margo was studying the room itself. She noticed that the windows were metalframed, firmly clamped from

the inside. In addition to the strong door that they had entered, there was another, equally formidable, in a

"Speaking of jade," added Shebley, as though Margo were really interested, "I can show you something quite

Shebley led the way out through the living room. They reached the dining room and there Margo saw a set of

dinner gongs that really intrigued her. Hanging like pendants of different sizes, the sounding bells were

Taking a small hammer with a solid head of jade, Shebley began to tap the sounding stones. The chimes were

clear and welltoned, as musical as any that Margo had ever heard. Like Shebley, Margo became fascinated

From a corner near the elevator entry, a figure stepped from behind a flimsy lattice screen that was

transparent but not enough so to reveal the form that had been standing against the darkened background. It

Slippered feet moved rapidly through the door to the curio room and several seconds later, the caped figure

returned, bearing a burden as large as itself. From the cape peered a face that resembled the statue's own, as

Gonging away at the fishbells, Shebley was having so much fun that Margo gave him a genuine smile.

Right then was when they lost their one real opportunity to spot Ankhea, for when she had planted the statue

Halfcrouched, Ankhea blended with the wall's dark background and also cut off view of the statue. She

waited until Margo laughingly suggested that Shebley try another tune. Then, in a single move, Ankhea

Simply stepping from her slippers, the Siamese girl let the cape slide from her own shoulders and fall inside

out upon the statue, completely submerging it. The effect was magical, giving the illusion that the statue had

She was something from a dream, this creature of delicate ivory turned human, as she stole softfooted

across the tufted floor. Jade beads quivered like the tendrils of a windswayed vine with every undulation of

her willowy form. Her black eyes, sparkling as no jet could, were fixed upon the far side of the living room,

Only Ankhea's lips were tense and they were compressed simply to hide their ruddiness, the only touch of

color which did not correspond with the delicately yellowed hue of the statue that this exotic maiden

represented. Ankhea's arms were lightly crossed so that each hand pressed the opposite wrist, but not because

The girl's only concern was that chance that her wrist bangles might jangle. She handled the anklet situation

by the unique process of gliding her feet with every step, so that she seemed to literally flow along the tufted

rug. Then, reaching the door of the curio room, the ochertinted vision was gone, a few mere moments before

"Suppose I lock the curio room," said Shebley to Margo. "I'll feel safer if it isn't on my mind. Then we can

It wouldn't be Cranston, it would be Talcott, but the time element wouldn't be long. In fact, Talcott was very

nearly due, according to the schedule that Margo had arranged with him. So Margo followed Shebley to the

curio room, watched him stare into every corner to make sure that no one could be hiding in this chamber of

Reaching the doorway, Shebley turned to look again and let his eyes rest upon the seated statue that gazed

"It's beautiful," breathed Shebley in a tone of complete admiration. "Too bad it isn't unique."

With that, Shebley closed the door and locked it, not realizing that his curio room had indeed gained a unique

ANKHEA was at work again. In the darkness of the curio room she had discarded her statue pose and was

using those slim, deft hands of hers to unbar the windows that opened on two exposures. One window was

above a sheer wall which Ankhea observed when she leaned outward. That was why she opened the other,

which suited her purpose better, since it was almost within reach of the fire tower.

Next, the roving creature of imitation ivory stopped at the door in the deep corner of the room. There, Ankhea

drew the bolt, thus opening another route into the curio room. Finally she went to the main door, the one by

which Shebley had left, and tried to unlock it. Here, Ankhea failed, because the door had no inside bolt as an

With three routes open, Ankhea was satisfied that she had done enough, particularly as Professor Frescott

would hardly choose the orthodox way of entry through the main door. So Ankhea glided back across the

First, Ankhea thought she heard sounds from the direction of the fire tower, but before she could thrust her

head and shoulders from the adjacent window, another noise attracted her. This sound came from the rear

door, the one that Ankhea had unbolted. Turning that direction, Ankhea gave a low, soft whisper as the door

The signal was answered. In his crablike style, Professor Frescott entered and closed the door behind him. At

Ankhea's beckon, he approached the chest of Chu Chan, which was standing wide open. There, Frescott lost

With a narrowbeamed flashlight, the agile professor studied the thick bottom of the chest. He ran his fingers

from one brass ornamentation to another; then reached to his coat lapel and drew out some ordinary pins,

which he carefully inserted in tiny holes that he had discovered at the front corners of the chest, only because

Handing the flashlight to Ankhea, Frescott spread his arms and placed a thumb against each pin head. He

pressed, and there was a sharp click, deep within the bottom of the chest. Then, with Ankhea supplying the

Only briefly did the light reveal a dull brown glisten from flat objects packed within the cache. Then the light

was off, with Ankhea whispering warningly. The mystery girl was turned toward the window near the fire

Whatever Ankhea might have heard was drowned by a peculiar clang that came from the chest itself. Frescott

was having trouble with whatever he had found and Ankhea's rapid efforts to help him in the dark only

bungled matters more. A sound jarred the stillness of the room, a sound like the sharp clang of cymbals. It

was muffled, repeated, then muffled again. After that, Frescott and Ankhea caught the hang of it and

By then, Ankhea had forgotten the question of the fire tower, except for an occasional glance toward the

window that opened near it. What Ankhea overlooked entirely was the other window that opened above a

Ankhea's eyes never paused when they passed by that window. The glance she gained of solid blackness was

sufficient so she thought. What Ankhea didn't notice was that the blackness shifted.

Strangely, that mass of gloom had taken the shape of a human head and shoulders, a figure clad in slouch hat

If either Ankhea or Frescott had noted that weird shape, it would have suppressed any notion they might have

had concerning a dual identity of Lamont Cranston and The Shadow. For between them, these connivers had

planted the enterprising but inquisitive Mr. Cranston in the Babylonian crypt, which he couldn't possibly

By Frescott's calculation, the commissioner was just now reaching the museum. The Shadow couldn't

Out in the living room, Margo Lane was asking herself that same question when she saw Shebley give a

worried stare in the direction of the curio room. Immediately, Margo glanced toward the elevator, hoping that

For Shebley had unquestionably detected some sound from the curio room, a clang which Margo too had

"It was empty," insisted Margo. "You made sure of that yourself when you looked around the room. The

"You asked why would anyone enter," argued Shebley, "and I told you because of the chest of Chu Chan."

"Anybody could guess. Look at this." Shebley rustled a newspaper that was lying on the table beside him.

"Here under auction news, it states that I have just bought the entire collection that belonged to Benisette."

The item was so small that Margo could scarcely read it in the light. With a shrug, she inquired:

"Everybody," returned Shebley. "That is, everybody interested in the chest of Chu Chan."

Rising, Shebley beckoned for Margo to follow him. On the way around the living room, Shebley turned off

all the lights, darkening the entire penthouse except for the glow of the city that showed through the

windows. Margo heard a jingle as Shebley produced some keys; when he stopped at the door of the curio

room, she could hear him inserting one in the lock. His other hand deep in his pocket, Shebley opened the

At that moment, Margo heard a clang, which she thought came from the elevator door. If such, it was the

thing that totally destroyed Shebley's efforts toward silence. But the answering clash, much like an echo,

The jarring slam of metal against metal came from within the curio room itself, right from a spot close by the

Before Margo could even gasp, Lionel Shebley surged into the room, to be met by a stooped man who

unlimbered up from his huddle in a fashion that Margo Lane distinctly remembered from an encounter of her

In that momentous instant, Margo Lane would have sworn that Shebley's antagonist was Professor Giles

There was a flash of steel in a rising hand; then a battering sound of metal meeting metal. A gun stabbed, but

its fiery tongue thrust upward, proving that it had missed its mark. Then, as Margo heard a clatter from a

window, blotting blackness took human shape, came surging inward to smother the two battlers.

In answer to the spontaneous shriek that Margo couldn't quite suppress, the figure of a living statue, jangling

jade and sinuous ivory, came literally from nowhere to clutch Margo Lane in its serpentine embrace!

IT was The Shadow who lunged in from the window that Ankhea had overlooked. In visiting this curio room

where the unique ruled, The Shadow had naturally chosen a unique route. Yet it wasn't love of the spectacular

Simple logic indicated that if any route to Shebley's curio room would lie open, it would be the most difficult

one. So The Shadow had come up the hard way, hoping to find it easy. Thanks to Ankhea's methodical

Hurling himself into the conflict between Shebley and Frescott, The Shadow had the element of surprise in

his favor. But those two fighters had been surprised enough, by their own meeting. They were in a mood to

A gun, swinging downward in the dark, glanced against The Shadow's head before he could throw up a

warding arm. Reeling, dodging as he went, The Shadow drove head first into what seemed a wall of metal

Whether they liked it or not, Shebley and Frescott were ganging up against a mutual foe in The Shadow.

However, that had nothing to do with their private fight, so The Shadow had another break in his favor.

Rallying from his first strokes of bad luck, he was in the fray again, battling groggily, but with purpose.

All The Shadow needed was one foeman less. If he could settle either Shebley or Frescott and The Shadow

was willing to accept one's aid against the other the handling of a single enemy would be easy. But neither

Shebley nor Frescott was willing to give up. Both fought with a fury that carried The Shadow in their whirl.

The three were milling toward the deepest corner of the room. Shebley didn't care, because he thought he was

trapping his antagonists; but Frescott carried the fray in that direction purposely. As the mass spun around,

Frescott managed to yank open the door that Ankhea had unlatched; then, swinging hard and wide with the

flat burdens that he carried, he literally bludgeoned Shebley into The Shadow's arms.

Next, Frescott was through the door and out into the garden, huddled low as he tried to find some spot of

security. It wasn't a case of hiding his face; what doubled him was the weight of the metal objects that he had

taken from the chest of Chu Chan. Frescott wanted to keep those trophies at all cost.

The clatter of an opening door, the quicktoned signal in a foreign tongue, gave Frescott the chance he

wanted. It was Ankhea who called him and opened a doorway in through the penthouse; having quickly taken

During the interval, Ankhea had regained her dark gray cape; though she was as sinuous as ever, she was no

longer visible. As Frescott turned in her direction, she helped him with his burden and the two disappeared

Shoved forward by The Shadow, Shebley heard the door slam and hesitated as he turned about. Then,

apparently assuming that the fugitives had locked the barrier behind them, Shebley swung further around and

went back through the curio room, hoping to cut off Frescott and Ankhea before they reached the elevator.

The Shadow took the shorter route, through the door by which the others had gone. It wasn't locked, but The

Shadow needed more than a few seconds to get to it and open it. Moreover, he wasn't familiar with the

penthouse, and a blind trail took him into the kitchenette. By the time The Shadow was again on the right

The Shadow saw the door of the elevator clang shut just as Shebley flung himself against it. There was a

rumble, indicating that the car was going down, while Shebley clawed with both hands, as though hoping to

tear the door of the shaft apart. Knowing how useless that would be, The Shadow chose the fire tower

instead, on the chance that he might reach the street before the fugitives gained too good a lead.

As the door of the fire tower slammed shut behind The Shadow, Shebley turned and gave a puzzled stare.

Then, with a shrug, he walked unsteadily into the living room and sat down in a large chair. Reaching for a

Margo Lane was just recovering what wits she still had. All she could remember was that something had

whirled her into the living room to fling her against the corner screen. Her hands to her throat, Margo was

wondering why the creature hadn't choked her while it had the chance, for its arms had certainly gripped her

Then, half to her feet, Margo gasped a half shriek and shied away from what she thought was the enemy of a

short while ago. What Margo saw was the Siamese dancer statue, toppling from its corner as though it

intended to clutch her again. This time, the statue simply landed face down; for it was really the ivory statue,

Blinking at the statue, Shebley turned for another look at Margo, then came to his feet, his fists half clenched.

A man was stepping forward to catch Margo by the shoulders and Shebley thought for the moment that this

was his old rival, Frescott. Then, as Margo gave a thankful gasp, Shebley saw that he had been deceived by

The man was Dariel Talcott and he was quite calm. Selling antiques was a business that worried him, but

"It's all right, Miss Lane," soothed Talcott. "Whoever was here has gone. Now tell us what happened."

All Margo could do was point to the statue and shake her head, meaning that the ivory image must have

"Hello, Talcott." Shebley kept his feet by gripping the arms of the chair behind him. "I think I can tell you

"So I heard," returned Talcott, with a nod. "But who was it and how did he get there?"

"I'd say it was Frescott," declared Shebley, "but I couldn't take oath on it. How he got in there well, that's

"I don't know," admitted Shebley. "The elevator door slammed shut, but so did the door to the fire tower."

"I came up in the elevator," he said, "and some people rushed past me in the dark. Then I heard Miss Lane

"I'm glad I was able to call," put in Margo. "I thought I was completely out until a moment ago. I only wish

"I should have," admitted Talcott. Then, turning to Shebley: "I told Miss Lane I'd be up shortly to talk to

"It was about that telephone call," put in Margo. "I didn't have time to mention it, Mr. Shebley."

Before either Talcott or Margo could explain, a clang came from the elevator and they both turned in new

alarm while Shebley pawed in the pocket of his dressing gown only to find he didn't have a gun. Then sight

After listening to Shebley's brief description of what had happened, Weston turned to the curio room and

Cardona promptly followed. The others went along to learn what the law would make of the singular invasion

and its consequences. Hardly had Cardona entered the door and looked around, before he shrugged and

"Apparently," agreed Weston, dryly, "considering that all the doors and windows were open. But who

"But the chest was wide open," objected Shebley, stepping forward. "Miss Lane can testify to that."

"It's shut now," argued Cardona, "and for all we know, somebody might still be inside it. Do you have the

Nodding, Shebley supplied the key. He stared at the chest, puzzled while Cardona unlocked it.

"I can't remember that chest slamming shut," declared Shebley, slowly. "What's more, I can't understand who

Margo could have objected to that statement, but she didn't. If Cardona still wanted to think of Graff in terms

of murder, he was welcome to do so. From Cranston's analysis of the case, Graff was out of it altogether.

So Margo Lane thought, and she was wrong as usual. That was proven very dramatically.

As Cardona opened the door of the Chu Chan chest, a figure came toppling from it and struck the floor in the

same inert fashion that had characterized Benisette's tumble. There wasn't a doubt that this man was also

The police were looking for a murderer and they had found him. The victim from the chest was Lionel Graff!

It wasn't the drawn expression of Graff's face that caused viewers to draw back in actual horror, nor the fact

What literally stunned the persons who drew back was the death weapon that projected from Graff's heart. As

with Benisette, a bloodred gem, topping the spread sections of a silver sheath, formed an emblem upon the

Like Simon Benisette, his supposed victim, Lionel Graff, had been stabbed with the Burmese katar that had

THE commissioner's big car pulled up in front of the Cobalt Club and Dariel Talcott stepped out. When

Margo Lane started to follow, Talcott gestured her back to the seat and said soothingly:

"Wait right here, Miss Lane, and don't worry. If Mr. Cranston is inside, I'll bring him out. Remember, the

"But if Lamont was locked in that vault," began Margo, "what can have happened to him if he isn't there

Talcott wasn't around to reply. He was starting into the club, so all that Margo could do was wait until he

At the end of that time Talcott hadn't returned, so Margo sprang from the car despite the chauffeur's protest

and hurried into the club herself. There she found Talcott standing at the desk, quite alone and very placid.

"Why don't you ring the bell?" demanded Margo, pointing at the desk. "I know the club is shorthanded; they

"I did," interposed Talcott, with one of his tired smiles. "The fellow is looking for Cranston right now. By the

way, Miss Lane" Talcott tilted an oblong package that he was holding "Here are my tools, the ones that

Margo nodded without looking at the box. She was wondering where Lamont could be.

"And there is Frescott's package on the shelf," continued Talcott. "The one with all the pamphlets that the

"There couldn't be," rejoined Margo, "not with the Burmese dagger showing up at Shebley's. Do they know

"I haven't asked," said Talcott, "but I suppose anyone could have taken it; that is anyone who had time to get

to Shebley's penthouse afterward." Looking around the lobby, Talcott added: "I'm still wondering what

That final remark worried Margo for a new reason. If Lamont hadn't been in the museum crypt where Weston

didn't find him, he might have been anywhere. Therefore Cranston's actions, like those of both Shebley and

Talcott might even be thinking that Cranston had stopped for the Burmese dagger and used it to knife Graff!

Another look at Talcott allayed Margo's qualms. The man seemed honestly worried over Cranston's

prolonged absence, and Talcott's honesty certainly stood unquestioned. He at least was one person who

couldn't have acquired the Burmese dagger, because he had been with Margo since the time when Weston

had last seen it. The only interval had been the quarterhour of Margo's sojourn in the penthouse and Talcott

Just as Margo felt ready to shout that question for all the world to hear, a calm voice spoke beside her:

It was Lamont, as unperturbed as ever. He had strolled in through the door while Margo was staring

everywhere else. In a torrent of words, Margo began to tell Lamont how glad she was to see him; then,

realizing more explanations were needed, she detailed the story of what had happened at the penthouse, with

When Margo came to the discovery of Graff's body and the fact that Pagan Min's katar had again been

identified as the murder weapon, Cranston's eyes showed a momentary glimmer, which he promptly

Here was a riddle that formed a real challenge to The Shadow, particularly since it had occurred on the scene

Yet there was something reflective in Cranston's stare. In the darkness of the curio room, amid the excitement

of a three way battle, even The Shadow couldn't have learned whether the chest of Chu Chan was open or

shut. Hence it was difficult to determine whether murder had preceded or followed The Shadow's actual

The best plan was to view the scene again. Pausing only to pick Frescott's bundle of pamphlets from the

They reached Shebley's to find a huddle in the living room, with Shebley the center of it. Weston and

Cardona were both working on one grand idea, for which they would probably each claim credit later. At

"But I tell you I didn't!" Shebley, reiterated his plea when he saw that newcomers had arrived. "Why should I

"For the same reason you murdered Benisette," jabbed Cardona. "Because he was after the chest of Chu

"Talcott for one!" Frantically, Shebley pointed an accusing finger at the first man in sight. "Don't forget,

"And he was stabbed with your katar," reminded Weston. "The only one like it in the world. It belonged to a

Shebley's trapped expression turned to another furious look, again directed at Talcott, who promptly

"Don't try to blame me, Shebley. I only sold you the dagger; I didn't steal it. I didn't even come here the day

the dagger was stolen. I stopped by the next morning, but that was after Benisette had been stabbed with the

"And today," added Margo, emphatically, "I was with Talcott when the dagger was still at the Cobalt Club.

"For only fifteen minutes," reminded Talcott. "It would have taken me half an hour to go and get the katar."

Good points, these, but Weston didn't like to see the quiz falling into the hands of amateurs. Accepting the

"The dagger was yours. I told you where I had left it for you, Shebley. You were supposed to pick it up"

"I haven't been out of this penthouse all day!" argued Shebley. "Miss Lane will tell you I was here when she

"So you were," agreed Margo, "but where were you when you made that phone call to Talcott?"

Margo looked at Talcott, who spread his hands in the fashion that he used with unreasonable customers at his

"Miss Lane was present when you phoned me," stated Talcott. "There's no use denying it, Shebley."

"You said something about Professor Frescott," Margo told Shebley, "because Talcott repeated it without

"And then" Margo was recalling the conversation exactly "Talcott said: 'If you get down to fine points,

"It must have been two other people," he sneered. "But since you mention Frescott, what about him? He

could have taken the katar from here and he could have picked it up at the Cobalt Club tonight."

"Only he didn't," was Weston's verdict. "I'll tell you why, Shebley. You say you encountered someone in the

"And we found someone in the curio room," added Weston. "We found Lionel Graff."

"All tucked away in the Chinese chest," defined Cardona. "Where only you could have put him, Shebley."

That was enough. The law had found a man who could be properly charged with double murder. Handcuffs

clicked on Shebley's wrists when Cardona applied them; still fuming, the suspect was led from his luxurious

Lamont Cranston accepted the invitation. He wanted to have another look at the chest of Chu Chan, the

Two days in jail hadn't weakened Jared Shebley in the least, but that was a thing to be expected. In his

position, his best plan was to deny everything, whether he was innocent or guilty. Of course meanwhile the

police were supposed to be piling up evidence on both counts, only they weren't.

Lamont Cranston stated so, rather smilingly, when he called on Dariel Talcott. The chat took place in the rear

room of the Talcott Antique Galleries, the spot where crime had technically begun. Margo Lane was there,

"The commissioner actually asked me what to do next," concluded Cranston. "So I told him."

"I told him to release Shebley," replied Cranston. "In fact, I even suggested that all charges be dropped on

"That Shebley should voluntarily join us in a visit to the Museum of Antiquities, which I think he will.

"A few have," explained Cranston. "The chest of Chu Chan, the katar of Pagan Min, and the Siamese dancer

"Because it was found outside the curio room," stated Cranston, with only the slightest side glance at Margo.

"How it arrived there is something of a mystery, unless Shebley purposely flung it there, just to add another

"But tell me," queried Talcott. "What good will it do to take Shebley to the museum?"

"Plenty," replied Cranston. "Professor Frescott happens to know a great many things about Oriental art,

things that Shebley doesn't. If we get the two of them talking together, something may develop."

"You said 'we.'" This came from Margo. "I think you are the only person who could start a chat between

"I'm relying on Talcott." Cranston gave a polite bow. "He knows art, too. By the way, Talcott, some of

Frescott's pamphlets would interest you. He has one that is very rare, in fact unique."

"That should interest Shebley," returned Talcott, dryly, "unless he has lost his collector's urge."

"This one is on Burma," specified Cranston, "and it tells all about our old friend Pagan Min. Unfortunately, I

didn't read it; some of the pages were uncut so I didn't open them. Frescott says that I can borrow it again, but

Glancing at his watch, Cranston noted that it was nearly time for the appointment. He didn't have to suggest

that Talcott come along. The art dealer said that he would follow as soon as he could; it was too early now to

close up shop, but after a few phone calls, he'd be able to let Homer take over for the rest of the day.

All the way to the museum, Margo was wondering about Frescott. It had occurred to her more and more that

the professor was getting off very lightly. All counts considered, he was a more likely suspect than Shebley.

"What about Frescott?" she demanded. "Why don't you out with it, Lamont, and say he did those murders?"

"Why, Margo!" Cranston's tone carried genuine rebuke. "I never say that anyone ever murdered anybody."

"The opinion was Weston's or perhaps Cardona's. Each is now blaming it on the other, though at first they

"But Frescott entered Benisette's apartment," began Margo, "and he may have come to Shebley's penthouse."

"Not necessarily for murder," argued Cranston. "We must learn his motive, and how far it may have carried

Weston, Cardona, Shebley were all in Frescott's office. As soon as Cranston appeared, Shebley came over to

shake hands earnestly, at the same time sidling a look of denunciation at Frescott. Beaming from behind his

"Don't worry about your curios." Frescott gave a sweeping gesture. "The museum does not want them. They

The chest of Chu Chan was in one corner of the room, the Siamese statue in another. On the desk lay the

Burmese katar as a final exhibit. But Shebley wasn't thinking of his curios, except possibly the dagger. From

the increase in his glare, he might have been contemplating using that weapon on Frescott.

"It's likely to be your turn!" stormed Shebley. "I mean it, Frescott, when I say you'd do anything to acquire

"But I want none of these," repeated Frescott. "My interest lies in Babylonian antiquities, such as these

ancient tablets." He pointed to a row of the clay plaques that were standing against the wall behind him. "I

Cranston bowed his acknowledgment and with it continued a glance toward the door. Talcott was entering,

having hurried along as soon as he could. Since everyone in any way concerned with the case was present,

"The Babylonian tablets," repeated Cranston. "Nice of you, Frescott, not to send me down to the crypt again

Frescott raised his eyebrows, as though puzzled. Moving his chair closer, Cranston found the chest of Chu

Chan in the way and started to move it. Cardona stepped over to help him, but it wasn't necessary. Using his

"Maybe I too need an alibi in this case," remarked Cranston. "So, professor, if you will admit you locked me

"After all," added Cranston, "if I was in the crypt, I couldn't have gone to Shebley's as you did or could I?"

"If you were locked in the crypt, it was a mistake!" he roared. "Anyway, I stopped to see the commissioner

"Of course not," retorted Frescott. "There was enough air in that crypt to last you all night!"

"Just as there was enough air in the Chinese chest," suggested Cranston, "to last Margo when you put her

Frescott caught himself. It wasn't that he knew the inadequacy of the airholes; if he had, he probably

wouldn't have mentioned them. Frescott was chewing at his tongue because he had gone far enough off guard

to be tricked into admitting that he was responsible for Margo's plight that night at Benisette's.

"We supposed the airholes supplied Graff overnight," said Frescott, suddenly, "if that's what you mean.

Anyway, Cranston" smartly, the professor was trying to parry "if you were locked in that crypt, how

"The way I did get out," replied Cranston. "With a razor blade. It's the best of wedges, professor, to get at a

latch through a crack that's hairthin. That latch works very smoothly, by the way "

"With a razor blade!" interrupted Frescott impatiently. "You don't expect us to believe that!"

"Why not? You expected the commissioner to believe he was coming here to rescue me, when your actual

"What's that, Cranston?" Weston was on his feet. "You mean Frescott was playing a double game?"

Hands moving from the lapels of his coat, Cranston produced a pair of black pins. Eyeing them, Weston

"No more than the razor blade was. Professor Frescott uses even simpler equipment that I do. I found these

Turning to the chest of Chu Chan, Cranston asked Cardona to move it closer, which the inspector did.

"It took three men to lift that chest when there was a body in it," recalled Cranston. "With the body gone, two

Probing along the brass mountings, Cranston found the pinholes in the bottom corners of the chest. It was

already dawning on others that the loss of weight could only have come from the thick bottom; hence

The bottom of the chest slid out like a drawer. The hidden compartment was empty, but it revealed

crossbraces and little pegs, which had obviously been put there to hold something tightly in place.

"From the size of those spaces," observed Cranston, "I would say that this secret drawer contained engraved

plates of the T'ang period, unquestionably of bronze, which would allow for the missing weight."

"You can search this whole museum," retorted Frescott, "and you won't find them, because there are none."

Cranston was stepping past the desk. With a roar like a bull, Frescott sprang to stop him. When Cranston

shoved the professor hack in his chair, Frescott grabbed for a desk drawer and pawed among his pamphlets,

The warning wasn't needed. Cranston was quicker; his own hand, driving past Frescott's, found the gun

before the professor could. To the amazement of all, it was Cranston who was glaring now, and murderously.

Half rolling from his chair, Frescott looked frantically about for refuge; trapped, with Cranston bearing down

on him, the professor grabbed one of the Babylonian tablets and twisted it in front of him.

On hands and knees, with nothing but a shield of baked clay to protect him, Frescott looked so pitiful and

Instead, Lamont Cranston aimed toward the heart of the cowering professor, tightened the gun trigger

As the bullet smashed the hardened clay, Frescott sagged back toward the wall, flinging his hands upward.

There was no time for Cranston to fire another shot; half a dozen hands were gripping him. However, another

Instead of a body thudding the floor, something was clanging there. Frescott wasn't hurt; all that had perished

was a clay tablet, one of the fine dark colored type, but the loss wasn't important. The clay tablet was merely

A special replica that Frescott had baked very recently, for it contained another object, almost the same size,

the bronze plate that was clanging; on the floor. Engraved with Chinese characters, that plate was one of the

very sort that Cranston had pictured as the secret contents of the chest of Chu Chan!

Seeing it, Shebley kicked another of the clay tablets and it broke as the first had. Out of it came another of the

Chinese plaques. Then Weston and Cardona were breaking the Babylonian fakes apart to discover more

"You gave it away, professor," he said. "Even in fright, you wouldn't have used a clay shield, not a man of

your keen caliber. I fired because I knew that the bronze interior would deflect the bullet."

Coming to his feet, Frescott stood with bowed head. Then, with a slow nod, he decided to state his case.

"Chu Chan sent those engravings," declared Frescott. "You analyzed it correctly the other day, Cranston. All

along, I was afraid that you would, you with your keen knowledge of Chinese art. Yes, the plates are a

catalog of the treasures of the Empress KomyoKogo. Chu Chan was trying to buy up the true works of

"He sent me the plates when he feared he could not longer keep them. Their very existence was unknown and

should remain so. In the hands of unscrupulous dealers or collectors, this information would enable them to

buy up many littlevalued items at low prices; then reveal their true worth and reap huge profit.

"Graff knew something of the secret and was trying to make a deal with Shebley. That's why I wanted

Benisette to get the plates. He knew nothing, so I was sure I could obtain the precious plates later. So I went

Halting, Frescott raised his head and faced all eyes squarely. He had told his purpose; the plates stood as his

"My apologies, professor," declared Shebley. "If I had known about the plates, I would have given them to

you. Surely I could and would have removed them as soon as the chest reached my curio room. But Graff

told me nothing; he only hinted that the chest had some special value in itself."

A strange laugh suddenly chilled the room. It literally could have been described as mirth from nowhere, for

when persons turned, they saw no one who might have uttered it. True, everyone looked in a different

The laugh of The Shadow, brief but sinister, a whisper that rose to a sharp crescendo, then cut off to let

echoes carry its shuddery taunt; such was the tone that was gone before it could be traced!

Even Lamont Cranston was looking around with a puzzled expression. He turned as he felt Weston grip his

"The Shadow's laugh!" voiced the commissioner, hoarsely. "What could it mean, Cranston?"

"Only that we must still find a murderer," replied Cranston, in a slow, even tone. His eyes were upon those

handshakers, Shebley and Frescott. "Yes, that would be it. Someone did murder Benisette and Graff."

His arms folded, Cranston let his eyes wander all around the room, passing the people and studying such

items as the Chinese chest and the Siamese statue. Then, his gaze ending on the desk, Cranston gave a look of

"What's gone?" demanded Weston. "If you mean The Shadow, he wasn't even in here!"

"I mean the Burmese dagger." Cranston was staring at the blank desk top. "In all this confusion, someone

must have taken it. Yes" Cranston's eyes studied faces, now "someone anyone of you could have

taken that deadly instrument. I would suggest that everyone be searched, commissioner. Only on the

It was cold, hard logic, a murderer seeing his game go wrong as facts came out, would certainly be the man to

snatch away the most important piece of evidence against him. No one had left this office; therefore,

"We can eliminate Margo," remarked Cranston, casually, "since we know she must be innocent. Let us

Cranston raised one hand slightly and gestured in the direction of Shebley and Frescott. Weston stepped over

to search Frescott, while Cardona took Shebley. Both men raised their arms willingly and it seemed that the

search would not be difficult, since a weapon so large as a onefoot katar would not be easy to conceal.

As though to complete a purely technical procedure, Lamont Cranston stepped around the desk, past the

With a move that he must have practiced long, Talcott whipped his hand beneath his coat, brought out a silver

bladed knife and thrust it, by its stirrup handle, straight for Cranston's heart!

To reach its mark, the dagger would have to pass those folded arms. That it could slither through was proven,

when the silver blade clicked apart under the jab of Talcott's skilled knuckles, unsheathing the vicious steel

Cranston's hand was quicker. Tucked under his coat, it already gripped the counterweapon. Out came a

flash, a click of spreading silver, and the bared blade of another katar met Talcott's with a cross slash!

No one dared to intervene. One weapon alone could vie with a katar, and that was another katar. Thrust after

thrust proved that ordinary stabs or slashes would be too slow against steelpointed punching like this. Now

the reason for the handguards became apparent. These weapons were meant for duels as well as for

Only the guards were stopping the furious jabs in as fast a fray as could be witnessed; but the blood that was

occasionally marring the duel came from Talcott. Cranston's blade was getting its point past his rival's

Twisting as they parried in their everthrusting style, the duelists were covering considerable ground.

Talcott's free hand slid behind him; unnoticed by the watchers, it gripped a chair. His next move was to

swing, around past the corner of the desk, and with the twirl, Talcott sent the chair skidding straight for

The whirl that Cranston gave made Talcott look clumsy. Cranston hadn't been deceived; he was ready for the

chair when it came. Spinning twice about, he was away and in again, while the chair was clattering onward to

bash against the Chinese chest across the room. And with the finish of his double pivot, Cranston was giving

a piston stroke to his katar, intending to lay the point against Talcott's unguarded body.

No longer was it needed. The part of Frescott's story that hadn't been told revealed itself voluntarily. The

Siamese statue came to life. Unfolding, hands of living ivory swooped down and caught Talcott's neck, while

There was skilled power in that form of Ankhea. Jade beads rippled in tune with straining muscles, as the

girl's whole body seemed to press its force into the strangling tension of her fingers.

The katar clanked from Talcott's hand as he writhed to the floor; then, as Cranston, stooping, placed the point

of his own dagger right where it belonged, Ankhea relaxed and drew away. Choking, Talcott couldn't even

Prompt with the handcuffs, Cardona clamped them on Talcott and drew the slumped man to his feet, while

"She came along with the chest," explained Frescott. "It was Chu Chan's idea to send a guardian. In the chest

he sent a matched statue, hoping the two would be kept together if they reached the wrong hands. That was so

Even Margo could forgive Ankhea when the black eyed Siamese girl smiled. After all, their two encounters

had been along Ankhea's line of duty. What Ankhea needed now was some American attire and Margo would

be only too glad to help her choose. Needing her jade no longer, Ankhea might swap some in return for more

Cranston's voice roused Margo from commercial ideas. Calmly, Cranston was explaining the mystery of the

"It was obvious that there must have been two such daggers," stated Cranston. "Frescott wouldn't have killed

Benisette because he wanted him to have the chest. Shebley didn't know the secret of the chest so he had no

"Money was the motive. Frescott wasn't after it, Shebley had enough of it. Graff wanted it and so did Talcott.

Graff's death left only Talcott and there the obvious declared itself. Since Talcott couldn't have picked up the

"Note this clue: After each murder, Talcott had his opportunity. He had to pick up a katar after the crime in

order to make it appear that someone had stolen the weapon before. We had only one man's word that the

It fitted perfectly. Talcott's visit to Shebley's after Benisette was already being shipped to his apartment; his

later trip to the Cobalt Club to pick up his own package and the one that Shebley hadn't after Graff's body

"I knew that one katar could counteract another," added Cranston, "so when I checked on the history of Pagan

Min, I realized that his brother and successor, Mindon Min, probably survived him by keeping himself

equally armed. Their father, King Tharawaddy, was just the sort to provide each princeling with a royal

Cranston had picked up the katars. He was holding one in each hand, studying their identical features, even to

"Pagan Min" Cranston weighed one dagger "and Mindon Min." He looked straight at Talcott, who was

huddled above his handcuffs. "I bluffed you today, Talcott, with the talk of Frescott's Burmese pamphlet. I

"You came here armed as usual with your extra dagger, thinking you might have to murder Frescott and

blame it on Shebley, all over the hundred thousand dollars you stole from Benisette. I was the person who

picked up the dagger that was lying on Frescott's desk. I suggested that everyone be searched, knowing that

"You could neither admit that you had snatched the dagger from the desk, nor that the one in your possession

was a duplicate. That was just the situation to swell the murderer in you and make you show your hand.

"And by the way, Shebley?" Cranston called this through the door as Cardona was leading the murderer out

"your job on the airholes clinches the case. You wanted to prove crime against Graff, but you branded

"Someone else could have sneaked up in the morning, killed Benisette in your rear room, and packed him

away. There would still have been time for such a murderer to sneak out again, but not to drill the dozens of

airholes that were too tiny to be useful. You were the only man who could have found such time, Graff,

Later, when they were riding away from the museum, a question struck home to Margo Lane.

"The night I went to the penthouse," exclaimed Margo. "Why did Shebley say he didn't phone Talcott?"

"Because he didn't," replied Cranston. "The man who did phone was Graff; he thought that Talcott might help

"No he didn't. He mentioned Shebley and then Talcott said: 'If you get down to fine points, Shebley "and he

"Why, that's so!" expressed Margo. "Just before that, Talcott mentioned Frescott. He was starting to compare

"What Talcott was going to say," stated Cranston, "was this: 'If you get down to fine points, Shebley could

"Yes. He expected Graff to come to Shebley's and he did, up the fire tower and in the other window that

Ankhea left open. Coming up by the elevator, Talcott saw his chance and used it. With Shebley tangling with

There was a note of finality in Cranston's tone, but it didn't quite complete the theme. Margo and Shrevvy

were chilled by a strange laugh that rose suddenly within the cab. A laugh that came from Cranston's lips,

unseen in the dusk. The same mirth that had stirred within the museum, back to which it now floated from the

departing cab. Louder, longer, more strident than before, it must have reached Professor Frescott and Ankhea.

Though weird, the tone was heartening to those who deserved The Shadow's confidence. As the laugh faded,

its echoes clung, as though night itself was cherishing The Shadow's triumph over crime!