CRIME OUT OF MIND....................................................................................................................................1

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER IV........................................................................................................................................11

CHAPTER V.........................................................................................................................................14

CHAPTER VI........................................................................................................................................17

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

CHAPTER VIII.....................................................................................................................................25

CHAPTER IX........................................................................................................................................28

CHAPTER X.........................................................................................................................................31

CHAPTER XI........................................................................................................................................34

CHAPTER XII .......................................................................................................................................38

CHAPTER XIII.....................................................................................................................................40

CHAPTER XIV.....................................................................................................................................43

CHAPTER XV......................................................................................................................................47

CHAPTER XVI.....................................................................................................................................51

CHAPTER XVII ....................................................................................................................................54

CHAPTER XVIII ...................................................................................................................................57

CHAPTER XIX.....................................................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XX......................................................................................................................................62

THE spotlight from the little balcony was focussed on the darkish man who stood in the center of the

nightclub floor. He was a commanding figure, this man, with his dark, full face and glinting eyes.

The great man's turban gleamed with a huge red stone that he termed the Token of Buddha. Similarly,

Planchini's regalia scintillated with an embroidery of costume jewelry. Beside him was a silverrimmed fish

Most sparkling of all was the crystal ball that Planchini held in his right hand. No mere glass this, but genuine

Appropriate, such a ball, for this was the Crystal Room of the Chateau Parkview, one of New York's

swankiest hotels. To live up to its name, the Crystal Room was hung with huge cutglass chandeliers and

Planchini had smartly posted himself so that one of these would serve as background in the spotlight, thus

For in the eyes and minds of many who watched him, Planchini was a real mystic of the highest caliber. Even

now, as Planchini dipped his right hand into the bowl to bring out a folded slip of paper, there was breathless

"I see the initials 'L. J.,'" declared Planchini, in stentorian tone, his eyes fixed on the crystal ball. "The 'L'

An audible gasp filled the interval that followed and Planchini, gesturing his right hand imperiously, carried a

second spotlight to a ringside table where a portly lady furnished a minor dazzle, except that her jewelry,

"Louisa Jardine," continued Planchini, consulting the crystal. Then, without a glance at the woman who

nodded her identity, he added: "Amid that name I see a sparkle. It represents something lost that wishes to

"My diamond pendant!" gulped the Jardine lady. "The one I lost a week ago unless it was stolen!"

"It was neither lost nor stolen," informed Planchini. "It was given to someone."

"You did not give it away." Fixing on Louisa, Planchini's eyes fairly flashed with fire. "You gave it to a

Louisa halted as a companion nudged her arm and whispered something. Then, with a giggly laugh, the

"That's right. It must have been the night I was over at the Landworth Apartments visiting Mrs. "

"No names, please!" Planchini was sharp, deft with his interruption, as though he had purposely held it. "Do

"You left the pendant there," reminded Planchini. "You may tell me if you remember."

Pondering, Planchini consulted the crystal, while portly Louisa, nervous in the spotlight, reached for a

The audience laughed while Louisa sputtered her champagne. Then, sheepishly, the woman admitted the

"It was a party," she said. "Maybe I'd been drinking too much. But Agatha my friend, I mean she should

"I see bubbles," divined Planchini, concentrated on the crystal. "Champagne bubbles, floating up from the

past. I gather the impression that your friend's condition was no better than your own."

"Agatha would just love that," announced Louisa, "but you're right, Mr. Planchini, one hundred percent right.

I mean you're right about the party I only hope you're right about the diamond pendant!"

"The crystal never lies," assured Planchini, dropping the folded slip back into the bowl. "Now to my mind

By the time Planchini had completed that slow spoken procession of figures, Louisa was shaking her head,

Noting that Louisa had started talking to the persons at her table, Planchini waved for the spotlight to circle

"Someone is thinking of that number," boomed Planchini, "the serial number on a dollar bill!"

The spotlight finally fixed upon a wanfaced man who had halfrisen from a rear table. The man was

holding up his arm and nodding so emphatically that his chin almost disappeared into his oversized tuxedo

"The number has been identified," announced Planchini, dropping a slip that he had started to lift from the

bowl. "And now" deliberately, with a grand display of showmanship, the mystic drew another folded piece

A slight wave of Planchini's hand and the orchestra, lost in the darkness of its platform, began to play the soft

"I can foresee the happy event. It will take place within the next fortnight. The impression comes from that

direction" the spotlight followed as Planchini pointed "and there is no reason to blush, young lady. You

are not yet a bride, though you soon will be. May I congratulate the lucky man, since he is now with you?"

The spot had fixed upon a girl who smiled as she reddened slightly in its glare, then hid her face behind a

menu, while the young man with her acknowledged that Planchini was right as to the date of their prospective

wedding, by waving both hands, then clasping them as a sign of selfcongratulation.

With a gesture, Planchini ended the music and brushed away the extra spotlight. He dipped his hand for

another slip of paper while his face assumed an air so serious that the chuckling audience hushed. Planchini

had the knack of being impressive when he wanted and it went far toward convincing the spectators.

Two of those were a pair of men at a table near the door. Even in the gloom, their faces showed a contrast.

One was undersized and slouchy, yet keeneyed and wise of face. His companion was both suave and sleek,

They were here in a professional capacity, or such they would have termed it: Val Varno, the

sleightofhand king and Glanville Frost, magic's great creative mind. At least so they considered

Pausing in the midst of a onehand manipulation of some slips of paper, Val Varno thumbed toward the floor

"At fifteen hundred a week," remarked Frost, smoothly, "I would say the corn is ripe."

"But what does the guy do?" demanded Varno. "Somebody collects slips in a fish bowl and takes them away

fifteen minutes before Planchini shows. Anybody could get to the questions and read them."

"People don't worry about their questions," returned Frost. "They are interested in the answers."

"So what does Planchini give them? Numbers off of dollar bills and a prediction of a wedding that every

"She might," considered Frost, "and it would be a swell break for Planchini if she does."

"Sounds like you're going mental," he said. "Soon you'll be believing there's something in the stuff."

"There is something in it," reminded Frost. "Otherwise you wouldn't be practicing at handling slips yourself.

"Soft money for either of us," Frost added, "or both. With your skill, Val, you could swipe slips right under

their noses. As for my presentation, it would begin where Planchini leaves off."

"After we really know Planchini's system," replied Frost. "Don't bluff yourself, Val; the fellow has something

Frost shifted as someone pressed by his chair. With an upward glance, Frost recognized the passer and gave

"Lamont Cranston," returned Varno. "We ought to remember him, even though we only met him once."

"I met him before that," stated Frost. "I used to see him at the meeting of the Universal Wizards Association

before they expelled me because I ran for Second VicePresident ahead of my turn."

"A smart apple, Cranston" Varno's eyes were following the man in question toward the door "and I'm

Val Varno wouldn't have wondered, had he followed Lamont Cranston in person, instead of merely with his

eyes. Outside the door of the Crystal Room, Cranston crossed the spacious lobby, strolled past the cigar stand

There, Cranston blended with blackness. The reason was that within the booth, he slid himself into a waiting

cloak that was black in hue, with a slouch hat to match. A few moments later the door of the booth slid open

The telephone booth was actually empty. Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow and with that

VAL VARNO and Glanville Frost weren't the only skeptical pair of gentlemen who were watching

Over in another corner of the Crystal room, near a door marked "Exit" were two other guests clad in the

One was a man who wore a half smile that seemed a perpetual part of his rather broad face. He was youthful

in appearance, but the low lights of the nightclub helped that illusion, because at close range, his features bore

Those lines hardened his face, giving a ruthless background to the amiable expression which his lips falsified.

All that this character needed was a name to describe him properly and he had it.

The other man was thin of face with a tall forehead, accentuated by the thin hair that topped it. His features

were dryish, even to his eyes, which were roving but not shifty. Those eyes, if they met others, remained

But when those eyes fixed upon something that interested them, they narrowed and their very sharpness

seemed to stab the object of their gaze. As for a name, this man was also wellequipped.

They looked like old friends, this pair, but they were of comparatively recent acquaintance, though they had

heard of each other through underground channels. Both were confidence men who had varied their

Certainly no man could boast a better poker face than Smiley Grimm, with his halfindulgent surface

masking his hard interior. His manner, too, was a cover for that certain deftness required in running up a

Conversely, Keene Marker was the sort who could not only probe the faces of others, but was sharp enough

of vision to detect any difference in cards that might become slightly nicked in play. This in turn made it a

logical conclusion that Keene would live up to his other name of Marker should a pack demand the tampering

They'd never met before, Smiley and Keene, because each made it a habit never to stay in one place too long.

Fastmoving swindles were their specialties. Smiley preferred selling stock in Canadian gold mines while

Keene could fairly pour the goods when Oklahoma oil wells were concerned. They were fastmovers

personally, as soon as the con game was worked, and they used their gambling skill to pay for expenses

Indeed, the two had become almost legendary figures, even to each other and now they had met, Smiley and

Each was wise, so wise that he would not reveal too much to the other. Who had brought them here, neither

cared to state, each simply intimating that he had received a good tip from some private source.

But it was no secret why they were here. They had work to do and of a daring sort.

At present that work was to check back on Planchini's act. The mystic was just finishing his turn, so the

"Only eight questions," spoke Smiley, with a slight laugh. "Easy work for his dough."

"Easy work for our dough," acknowledged Keene, "particularly as I'm already picking number five as the one

"Yes and no," retorted Keene. "The guy that spoke up was a stooge. I've spotted him before, saying a

Planchini's act was finished and the darkhued mystic was salaaming himself off stage. Lights were

beginning to glow from the big chandeliers and Keene gave a quick sideglance at Smiley, who had a pencil

and notebook lying in front of him. Reaching beneath the table, Keene produced a newspaper and opened it

"We'll act like we're picking horses," undertoned Keene. "We don't want anybody to know about those notes

"A couple of mugs over there." Keene was looking toward Val Varno and Glanville Frost at the other side of

"Because they're a couple of magicians," informed Keene. "One of them is doing the coin roll" Keene was

referring to Varno, who was causing a halfdollar to somersault along the backs of his fingers "and the

other is wearing a colorchanging necktie" Keene's sharp eyes were studying Frost, who was leaning

forward, writing something on the tablecloth "and the thing has slipped. It's half green and half yellow."

"Because they want to mooch into the mental racket," explained Keene. "Fifteen hundred a week is better

"Well, that's the difference between a mentalist and a magician, even though they both do the same tricks."

With that, Keene let his gaze rove elsewhere and specifically to the wide door that formed the entrance to the

Crystal Room. Eyes from that direction might be too observant, Keene decided, because the doorway was

packed with persons who were looking for tables. With Planchini's act over, some of the customers were

leaving, but there was more of the floor show to follow. Hence some of the people at the door were moving

out to the lobby rather than be jostled and finding that they weren't glancing his direction, Keene decided to

"There's Sidney Maywick," confided Keene. "He lives here at the Chateau Parkview."

"You mean Baldy with the Van Dyke beard?" queried Smiley, without looking up. "Who's with him tonight?"

"Spot them if you see them. All of Maywick's friends have dough. I'll match you whether we sell them gold

With the question, Keene stared at Smiley who expected the gaze and looked up to meet it.

"Maywick handles stock himself," explained Smiley, "and it's all giltedged. He wouldn't buy an oil well if it

poured out molten gold. But we might get some of his friends to trade in what they bought from him for

Nodding, Keene turned for another look at Maywick, but the man with the Van Dyke had been shunted to the

lobby along with other disappointed customers. Nor was there a chance of glimpsing him beyond the throng

for at that moment the lights in the Crystal Room went out and a spotlight centered on a dance team that

Settling back in the semidarkness, Keene gave a low significant whisper to Smiley.

"What's more important" Smiley tilted his head toward the balcony that was almost above them "is that

Smiley gestured his hand toward a door near the exit. The door in question was closed and bore the word

"Private" in large letters. It was a combination office and property room where the projection equipment was

Right now that room was unoccupied, which was why Smiley and Keene happened to be at their particular

It came, the ring of a telephone bell, sounding muffled through the door from the room where nobody was.

Together, Smiley and Keene counted the rings of the telephone. The progression ended with five, indicating

that whoever was calling had hung up after listening to that number of rings across the wire.

"I was right," undertoned Smiley. "The fifth question. The one about the diamond pendant."

"Belonging to Louisa Jardine," whispered Keene, "who was visiting somebody named Agatha."

"Mrs. Agatha Somebody," added Smiley, striking a match so he could see his notes. "She lives at the

"And what does that tell us?" sidetoned Keene, while Smiley was using the match to light a cigarette. "We

"Naturally not," agreed Smiley. "We want that pendant and anything with it, but we don't know where or how

The interruption that Keene croaked was tuned to another ringing of the telephone in the closed office.

Together, Keene and Smiley counted the new succession, which ended with the sixth ring.

"The phony question!" came Smiley's hissed whisper. "The one the stooge acknowledged!"

"And we thought it was the number on a dollar bill," purred Keene. "You've got it written, haven't you?"

That was all. A few minutes later, when the lights flooded the Crystal Room so the dance team could take its

final bow, the obscure table by the littleused exit was devoid of Messrs. Smiley Grimm and Keene Marker.

THE tiny light licked along the gilded wall and paused upon a simpleframed portrait of a plumed cavalier.

A whispered laugh sounded from the darkness behind the beam as the light enlarged its circle.

It was coming closer to the portrait, that flashlight, bringing with it the person who carried it, but when its

progress stopped, the beam narrowed again to a pencil ray that threw a spot resembling a silver dollar.

Into that glow came gloved fingers to test the framed portrait with a few deft touches. The picture swung

open like a door, frame and all, disclosing a wall safe behind it. The safe was a small one, but ample for its

The fingers busied themselves with the combination: three to the left, four to the right, three to the left, two to

These were the numbers in rotation that someone had not been thinking about in reference to an imaginary

dollar bill whose serial had been reeled off by Planchini, the seer of the Chateau Parkview.

The safe door came open and the enlarging circle of the flashlight threw back a dazzle that made the

The Jardine pendant, valuable though it was, formed but a minor item of this collection. Here in the hidden

wall safe of an apartment living room, was a fortune in gems, all the property of Mrs. J. Allison Agnew,

whose husband owned a sizeable chain of smalltown drugstores which gave him an excuse for seldom being

Until a few years ago, J. Allison Agnew had preferred to live here in New York because his wife was always

cruising somewhere in the yacht that he had bought her. When the yacht had been sold and later

commandeered for coastal patrol, Mrs. Agnew had evidently invested its equivalent in these gems, hoping

Meanwhile, Mrs. Agnew had taken over the apartment and her husband had decamped. Distance had always

Little wonder that Mrs. Agnew, whose first name happened to be Agatha, should have suggested that Louisa

Jardine leave her diamond pendant here. Even less surprising was the fact that Agatha should have forgotten

From a zippered bag, The Shadow produced an inlaid jewel case, but instead of opening it, he placed it in the

safe, after he had poured the existing contents of that safe into the bag itself. Drawn tight, the bag, when

placed beneath The Shadow's cloak, was a far more secure repository for the Agnew gems than was the wall

Closing the safe, The Shadow turned the knob and swung the picture back where it belonged, thus setting the

scene for the next act in this drama. Moving through the darkness, The Shadow reached a window; there, the

From there, The Shadow's course was a mere three stories down, since the Agnew apartment was only on the

fourth floor in a corner of the Landworth Apartments that included all apartments designated by the letter 'J.'

In his enterprise, The Shadow had been leisurely, taking due time to study his surroundings. As a result, he

hadn't completed his work with much time to spare. Hardly had the window cleared itself of darkness that

vanished in the style of vapor, when sounds came from the door of the apartment itself.

The man who was making those sounds was Keene Marker. He was showing Smiley Grimm a very clever

trick, although Smiley wasn't watching closely. Much though he was interested in Keene's craftsmanship,

Past the automatic elevator that they had used to reach here, Smiley saw the door of a fire tower. The door

was slightly open, and as Smiley watched it, he could see it move, though slightly. All that was to the better,

because behind that door lurked a watcher named Dirk Elverton, a handy man indeed to keep as a reserve.

Keene was using a tiny but efficient instrument in the form of a needle drill that he had applied to the lock of

J4. It had bitten its way through the metal and now Keene was removing it to supply a circular device with

other needles that he termed jabbers. Under the pressure of a small plunger, the jabbers pressed home and the

Opening the door, Keene warded Smiley back before he could enter. Smiley's hand went for a gun, but again

Keene gripped his arm. All Keene wanted to do was cover the work he had just accomplished, leaving no

traces of the holes that he had drilled. Keene did this by applying a special wax that plugged the tiny

"Good any time we want to use it again," undertoned Keene. "I have a string of setups like this, all over the

Smiley's lips broadened their artificial spread a trifle, thus registering approval. Then, eying the special

"No," Keene admitted, "but I've punched strong boxes with it. In this case, we don't have to worry about

Smiley was bringing a flashlight from his other pocket. In closing the door, Keene gestured impatiently for

"Guns make funny noises," opined Keene, "and flashlights give funny flickers. Let's act like we belonged

here, only first, we ought to be fixed in case we meet somebody who knows we don't."

As a means to that fixing, Keene produced two silk handkerchiefs, each neatly knotted at diagonal corners.

He slipped one over his head and drew it down past the blindfold stage until it came to his nose. Instead of

Duplicating Keene's job, Smiley put on the other mask, but with more difficulty, since Smiley's head was

broader. Then Keene found a floor lamp and turned it on so that the two masked men could survey the

It wasn't more than half a minute before a cluck came from beneath the silken folds that draped Keene's chin.

Smiley looked and saw a flattering portrait of Agatha Agnew glaring haughtily from the wall, as though

disapproving the operations of these cracksmen deluxe. It didn't happen to be the picture that Keene meant.

Turning, Smiley viewed the plumed cavalier and supplied an indulgent laugh. Squared against the wall,

lacking the forward lean that the other pictures showed, and of just the right size to conceal a wall safe, this

Keene clucked approvingly as Smiley put on a pair of gloves before manipulating the straightset frame. It

wasn't long before the thing came open; merely the fraction of a minute. Inside was the wall safe with its

"Here goes with that one buck combination," announced Smiley. "Only which way should I start left or

"The first figure ought to mean left," decided Keene. "So if it didn't mean left, that series Planchini called off

At the end of those turns, alternating left and right, the safe opened under Smiley's steady fingers. A satisfied

intake of Smiley's breath accompanied his sight of the casket that The Shadow had left. Gripping the object,

Putting on thin gloves of his own, Keene received the casket and held it to the light. He noted that it had no

"We'll take what's in it," Keene declared, "and then leave it like we found it "

Keene was working on the clamp but finding it difficult. He couldn't seem to get a grip on the box and pry it

open at the same time. Smiley took hold of the ends of the casket to help him; both masked crooks were

Success was in their very grasp, or seemed to be, when the pair were greeted by a startling interruption. From

across the room came a sharp buzzing sound, signifying that someone was pressing the call button down in

Freezing, Keene and Smiley stared at each other above their masks. Then as if by common consent, the pair

nodded. Keene shoved the jewel box under his arm, while Smiley drew the gun for which he had reached

Having decided to act as if they belonged here, these partners in crime were ready to proceed along that

LIFE in Manhattan singularly resembles one of those crosssectional anthills encased between sheets of

glass, which people used to buy to study the ways and habits of the ant, back in the days before the

complexities of the human race reduced such matters to a state of insignificance.

This analogy is needed in order to comprehend the peculiar possibilities that the pressing of a call button in

Viewed from the outside, the Landworth formed what appeared to be a pyramid; in reality, the building was a

hollow square, the stepbacks existing only where the outer walls were concerned. Each of the pyramided

sides had an arched entrance, one on an avenue, two on side streets, the last on an alleyway that bisected the

Surrounding the interior courtyard, the walls were sheer but broken with indentations that formed wells or

Among the windows that fronted on a street, one showed a dim glow that rendered it more conspicuous than

if it had furnished a brilliant light. This happened to be the window of a room connecting with the Agnew

living room; The Shadow had left the connecting door open for this very purpose.

Now cars were creeping into this area, green cars with white tops, the kind the New York police used. They

were taking over where The Shadow had left off, acting on a strange mysterious tipoff, the sort that a certain

inspector named Joe Cardona always respected and heeded, with satisfactory results.

Naturally, the arriving police were surveying the big apartment building, hence they did not observe the

figures that were receding across the street. These were The Shadow's agents, their vigil almost done, since

they had been stationed here only to nullify any criminal outposts, should such be in the offing.

There being none, the robbery at Agnew's had become a simple matter for the law to handle. At least so The

Shadow's schedule rated it, but there were times when even The Shadow could be wrong.

For one thing, The Shadow hadn't expected a chance caller on the Agnews at this particular juncture; but

even allowing for such, he would have counted on some telltale reaction within the apartment itself, most

specifically an extinguishing of those dim living room lights which were like a signal beacon beckoning the

The person who pressed the Agnew button received a responding buzz from the inner door at that particular

This visitor was a girl, a most attractive specimen. Slightly on the blonde side, she had clear blue eyes that

flashed a determination quite out of keeping with her saucy, upturned nose. Her lips were something of a

compromise; though they looked determined too, it was through effort, as evidenced by the tightness that

The blonde must have expected a party at the Agnews, for she was wearing a blue evening gown, visible only

in splotches through the opening of the darker cape that caressed her shoulders. As the elevator stopped at the

fourth floor, she tossed back those shoulders haughtily, before pushing open the door, as though determined

Maybe the lift of those shoulders helped the girl's rapid back step when the door of the apartment opened to

receive her. Certainly she was quick, the way she avoided the threatening gun muzzle that a masked man

used to beckon her inside, while another snarled, "No noise now!" only to find himself unheeded.

Even more rapid was the girl's action with the beaded bag that matched her blue gown. Out of it she whipped

a smallsized automatic so suddenly that she was covering Smiley with the gun muzzle before he could bring

his own weapon to bear. Keene swung in from the other angle, sidling the jewel casket as a shield, but

If she'd been as quick with the trigger as with her previous action, the girl could have scored double at that

instant, but fright mingled with caution caused her to take a few backsteps more. Nerves taut, she heard a

The man called Dirk was hurtling from the fire tower door and he was appropriately nicknamed. Big, brawny

even to his upraised fist, he clutched a long knife with a glittering blade that was meant for the feminine

intruder. Unable to bring her gun to bear, the girl could only shriek and twist away, but her respite was brief.

Dirk's free paw made a huge sweep and caught the girl's cape. Instinctively the blonde flung the garment over

the big man's head and squirmed from the tangle, emerging in her strapless gown like something bursting

from a cocoon. Dirk came full about, half into the doorway of J4 and thrust a swift hand under one of the

With that smacking impact, Dirk clutched hard and whirled the girl around in the fashion of a jive expert. His

other hand went out and up at fortyfive degrees to poise its knife for a drive to the victim's heart. Though the

What the girl saw in those kaleidoscopic moments must have seemed the manufactured figments of a dream.

Swirling blackness first, from the doorway which Dirk had left; now, Dirk himself, a thick, brutalfaced

assassin gone completely berserk. Again, blackness, as the girl's head tilted away, the sort that came from a

Except that the blackness was real. It did more than swirl as it issued from the very doorway that Dirk had

used. It was living blackness, cloaked in the sablehued garb that symbolized The Shadow!

Dirk's face, leering just above the girl's shoulder, was no good target for The Shadow's gun, but Dirk's knife

hand was. Except that The Shadow didn't use his gun in the accepted manner. He was half turned,

shouldering the door wide as he hauled a big automatic into play and from this position there was opportunity

The Shadow let go with a hard, sidearm throw, sending the loaded .45 ahead of him as he completed his whirl

to produce another automatic from beneath his cloak. By then, The Shadow's fling had scored.

Dirk's wrist, coming downward with his fist, was met by a jarring missile that not only numbed his knife

hand, but carried upward to snatch the blade right out of the assassin's grasp. As knife and gun jounced and

clattered together, it was Dirk's turn to become vocal, which he did with an infuriated bellow.

If The Shadow preferred to toss unorthodox objects that happened to be at hand, so did Dirk. In this instance,

Dirk preferred blondes, so he chucked the only one available. As the girl came flying headlong, The Shadow

gave a sardonic laugh and with it seemed to dwindle, only to come upward from his stooping twist to pluck

All with one sweeping swingabout, The Shadow was again in action, this time with a limp but uninjured girl

draped over one arm, while his other hand was thrusting its automatic straight Dirk's way. Scrambling to

regain his knife, big Dirk would have been an instantaneous target for The Shadow, if it hadn't been for

Spurred on by Keene, Smiley jabbed quick shots from within his doorway. Crooks to the core, both

recognized The Shadow by his laugh and Keene was as eager to demand the death sentence of this Nemesis

as Smiley was to give it. It was bad business, though, to hurry matters with The Shadow; bad business for

Smiley's first shot, wide by nearly a dozen inches, sent The Shadow sidestepping toward the shelter of the

wall. Smiley might as well have been using a popgun when he delivered his next blasts, for he couldn't get

the angle without poking himself into destruction. The Shadow took a chance though, that Smiley would do

just that, for The Shadow responded with a single shot that sizzled amid Smiley's gunfire.

Whistling past the doorway, that slug hit the wall just beyond and ricocheted to clip Dirk's shoulder as the big

Howling, Dirk launched past the doorway, intent upon reaching The Shadow. Smiley swung out to follow,

with Keene bringing up the rear. Letting the girl slide from his arm, The Shadow poured straight into the

advancing trio, meeting them with an upward drive that piled Dirk back upon the men behind him.

It would have been victory right there, whether by slugging tactics or by gunfire, if The Shadow hadn't been

interrupted by the very factor which he himself had introduced. Staggered, sprawling crooks heard shouts as

Odd though it seemed, this arrival of the law was to bring a setback to The Shadow's present cause.

OF the three crooks, Dirk alone rallied to give battle to The Shadow and received what he deserved. His knife

just starting on another downswing, Dirk was met by a bullet that reeled him full about. Staggered,

bellowing, Dirk flung himself upon the police who were grabbing his masked comrades and the officers took

That meant timeout for Smiley and Keene, the men whose masks still rendered them unrecognized. Smiley

was trying to wrest his gun free from hands that gripped it; and on the chance that Smiley would somehow

manage, Keene in his turn was trying to get the jewel casket from other claimants.

The best that Keene could do was yank the casket open, which meant he might snatch a glovefull of its

precious contents. Before The Shadow could lunge in to prevent it, the lid came wide.

It came like a huge sigh, that curious explosion that literally bounced the box from gripping hands and sent

men reeling back. Out of it came a monstrous, greenish form, like a spreading devilfish of gaseous quality.

From beneath the feet of twisting, diving men, The Shadow scooped something that he saw there.

Then, headlong, The Shadow was swooping away from the spreading flood of green that was punctuated by

choking gasps and coughs. Reaching the girl, The Shadow flung the object that he carried, the girl's own

cape, so that it covered her head. Then, his own cloak folded across his face, The Shadow was knifing

through the cloud of green that reached him, bound for that fire tower door that offered free, fresh air.

That casket, planted by The Shadow, had been loaded with concentrated tear gas. Its purpose had been to

stifle the greedy thieves who found it and who would have normally opened it and promptly.

There had been nothing wrong with The Shadow's timing. Keene and Smiley, or any other unknown burglars,

should have been clawing around the Agnew living room when the police arrived. The unexpected girl had

delayed their opening of the gemless casket which had now become a Pandora's box, with a load of mischief

Whatever the girl's part, The Shadow wanted to remove her as an unnecessary factor; now that the gas was

loose, this was his opportunity, as well as the only course for himself. Down the steps of the fire tower, The

Shadow reached the bottom; there, he used a flashlight to blink a quick signal through the darkness of the rear

Time was still ample to double up and help the police complete a blind roundup of two equally helpless

masked crooks. But things weren't working that way when The Shadow started his return trip up the fire

Neither Keene nor Smiley had fared badly. In their first blind grope, they had found the door of the Agnew

They owed their luck to the masks. Hauled over their eyes, with the bottom folds clenched in their teeth, the

silken contrivances were serving Keene and Smiley against the greenish fumes. They were weeping, but not

Here the construction of the apartment building offered a series of onestory steps, down which the fugitives

dropped. Conspicuous against the wall, they should have been flagged, but weren't. The few police who

remained outdoors had been attracted to a new quarter, the alleyway behind the Landworth.

There, a very bewildered girl was finding herself conducted by guiding hands through the darkness. They

were silent, these men who served The Shadow, but the girl's stumbles and the clatter of her high heels had

The response was a brief trill of a police whistle from the other end of the alley, answered in kind from the

direction of the first speaker. Uniformed figures began working into the alleyway, sending flashlight beams

Instantly, the girl found herself whisked across to a shallow doorway in a wall opposite the Landworth.

Huddled in the folds of her mussed cape, she escaped the flashlight beam that licked past her, but it disclosed

The officer who was using the flashlight failed to glimpse that face and instantly, the wizened man turned

from the glare. The girl heard him speak to a crouched man who was working at an antique lock in the little

"All right, Hawkeye," the crouched man responded. "Steady, half a minute more. Getting this turkey locked

The interruption was the click of the lock itself. Under Tapper's twist, the door yielded, but its rusted hinges,

Flashlights fairly seemed to bound forward as hoarse voices called, "Who's there!" which was a fair

indication that they didn't recognize the cause of the screeching sound. Tapper was half through the doorway,

turning to help Hawkeye to guide the girl that same direction, but now the flashlight beams were interlocking

In fact, the alley was practically aglare with light, which wavered first and logically toward the wall of

the Landworth from which it would have cut promptly to the doorway where the girl and The Shadow's

Something plopped the cement and bounded with a sparkle. Its scintillation was matched by the next drops

More of that peculiar hail arrived, and a moment later the officers were not only snatching up the precious

The whole Agnew collection was being fed down from the stepped wall above; now that the police were

ready for such gifts, more fragile items, brooches and necklaces, were cascading down into the glare. The

officers didn't stop to question how or why; they just caught the stuff on the fly.

Meanwhile, that door across the way was closing behind the persons who had passed through it. Tapper

remained to lock the door from within, while Hawkeye hurried the girl through the basement to an exit on a

There, the still dazed girl found herself being helped into a cab by a rather handsome young man who was

politely adjusting the evening cape that had wrapped itself around her shoulders. Feeling somehow that she

"I I'm well, my name is Bonnie Blye. I didn't mean that is, I do mean that if you understand "

"My name is Harry Vincent," he introduced. "I'm glad I just happened to arrive here in this cab. I hope we

Before the girl could say anything more, she was in the cab and it was pulling away, the driver leaning over

as though he expected his lone passenger to give him an address, which Bonnie finally did.

By then the shower had ended back in the alley. The cops who had received the Agnew gems were raking the

building with their flashlights and shouting up to the ledges. They received similar responses from a window

they couldn't see, up on the fourth floor. But their flashlights converged with those that cast out beams from

It happened that nobody, either above or below, could explain where the jewelry had come from. Only one

On his return to the fourth floor, The Shadow had slipped past the recuperating police only to find the Agnew

apartment devoid of the masked crooks. In choosing his own way out, The Shadow had taken the alley side of

the building. Half way down the mammoth steps, he had spotted events in the alley.

Hence the shower of gems, The Shadow's impromptu method of drawing the attention of the police from

where he didn't want it. Now instead of having focussed all attention on himself, The Shadow was letting it

Flat on a ledge, lying along an inner angle where the ledge met the wall, The Shadow's cloaked figure had

become a part of the blackness. The probing lights missed him, yet so closely, that they gave the impression

A whispered laugh stirred the darkness softly as the lights gave up and departed elsewhere. The police

Yet even The Shadow might be due for a surprise when he learned where that trail had led, for others already

Back at their favorite table in the Crystal Room, where they had slipped quite surreptitiously, Keene Marker

and Smiley Grimm were preparing to stiffen their morale with a few stiff drinks before Planchini's final

Keene thought that Smiley was concerned with the visiting magicians, Val Varno and Glanville Frost, who

were joining each other at the same table where the crooks had viewed them before.

But Smiley was indicating a table nearer the floor, a choice table occupied by Sidney Maywick, the baldish

man of wealth who sported the Van Dyke beard. Maywick had risen and was bowing profusely to a girl

whose face Keene couldn't see, since she had just turned so that Maywick could introduce her to the persons

In fact all that Keene could see of the girl were her lovely shoulders and a sweep of an equally graceful back.

It wasn't until she reached a chair and turned around again that Keene observed the blue gown that

Then of course, Keene saw the girl's face too. Like Smiley, Keene stared at the unmistakable features

consisting of sparkling eyes, saucy nose and straight lips that looked the same, even though less determined

These men who had, as masked crooks, eluded The Shadow, were staring at Bonnie Blye, the girl who had

That meant it was six o'clock in the afternoon. Planchini's usual hour for rising.

Closing the door of his suite on the twelfth floor of the Chateau Parkview, Planchini saw a flicker of a red

Planchini was just too late. The car went by before he could halt it. Another red light gleamed and a door slid

open, admitting Planchini to an elevator managed by a girl operator of hoydenish appearance.

Finding that the car ahead was taking care of stops, this operator made a straight trip to the ground floor, at

"H'yah, Planchini," the girl greeted. "Getting up at the crack of sunset, like as usual?"

"It's six o'clock," observed the girl, "and that's six p.m., in case you don't know. Unless maybe you don't

"You struck it exactly. My standard is Manila time. It is now seven o'clock in Manila, and that happens to be

"I mean seven o'clock tomorrow morning," emphasized Planchini. "Since I am able to regulate my mind

"And now, my thoughts being on the future" Planchini fixed his eyes steadily, then relaxed them, paying no

attention to the hoyden's astonishment "I find that I have neglected the past. Because I unwisely set my

watch by New York time, I forgot to bring it with me. Therefore I must return to my room."

Bowing out through the door that the staring operator opened, Planchini stepped into the car that had arrived

Something quite beautiful glared from behind a cigar counter and gave an angry toss of its brunette head.

Coming from behind the counter, this girl picked up a newspaper and brought it along to the elevator where

"Man in eighteleven wants his newspaper," the counter girl told the elevator queen. "I can't find a bellhop

"Sorry, I can't leave the elevator," retorted the hoyden. "Against orders. Anything else bothering you?"

"That's just it." The girl from the counter nudged her and toward the elevator. "Why did the Great Brain go

"He said he forgot his watch," laughed the hoyden. "He had an alibi for it though, some stuff about his

"I guess so. I don't remember him looking at it. What do you figure it an alibi for something else?"

The counter girl gave a grim nod and retreated to her own preserves. Elbows propped on the counter, she

watched the dial of the elevator that had just gone up; seeing it stop at number twelve, the brunette's face

That elevator had stopped just about long enough to let off a passenger, which was just right.

EXCEPT that it hadn't let off a passenger. Up at the twelfth floor, the girl operating that particular car had

She was a cute thing, the girl who operated this car. She had a roundish face beneath hair that wasn't really

red, but just inclined that way, which was probably why she liked it when Planchini said:

"Not between floors, Reds. Those dials are too accurate. It would be just as bad as stopping too long on the

The operator halted the elevator at the sixteenth but didn't open the door. She lifted her face so that she could

snuggle her chin in the hand that Planchini obligingly raised. The girl's eyes were glowing soulfully when

"Those aren't the codewords," laughed Planchini, "and if you mean me, save the dark until I put on my

"A kiss for that, beautiful." Leaning forward, Planchini let the girl supply one. "We'll skip the code lesson

until later. Chin down now!" Planchini drew the girl's face gently downward. "Give me a few bits of gossip

"There wasn't much of account last night," declared Reds, furrowing her forehead, while she made

approximate stops at floors. "Old lady Miles is still waiting for word from her lost cousin whom you said

"I didn't say what fortnight," laughed Planchini. Then sourly, he added: "That debt collecting service is

getting slow. I gave them a bill that I said the guy owed me. They ought to have located him by now."

"Somebody is going to ask you where Maria Leone, the movie actress, is taking her vacation. She always

"And she always goes to some big city. There's an outfit calling itself Celebrity Service that covers characters

"Not that I remember." Reds shook her head as she stopped at the top floor and prepared to start down. "No,

"Then let me off at the fourteenth, especially as your red light is showing," suggested Planchini. "But what

about Sidney Maywick? Didn't you listen in on his chatter when you took him up last night?"

At Planchini's query, Reds brought the car to a slashing stop at the fourteenth floor and turned defiantly, to

"Because he was all eyes for one that was perched at his table last night and I knew he'd be all talk about her

"And you're letting me off at the fourteenth right now, because there are customers waiting. See you later,

When he said "later" Planchini really meant much later, because after walking down to the twelfth floor and

reclaiming his watch, he carefully avoided Reds' elevator just as ardently as he had tried to catch it earlier. It

was from the hoyden's lift that Planchini stepped a short while later to receive the approving smile of the

brunette who presided over the cigar dispensary, a smile that increased as Planchini approached the counter.

"Anything special in cigars?" inquired Planchini, in the bland tone of a customer. "Or don't you recommend

"These Havana Specials," returned the girl, reaching beneath the counter in a rehearsed style. "They are

exceptionally mild and the panatela size is a delightful afterdinner smoke" the girl gave an apologetic

"Save that sales talk for the right gentleman then," suggested Planchini with a wise smile. "Make sure he's

going into the Crystal Room before my act starts and hold back the Specials unless he's changing a five dollar

Smiling in acknowledgment of the nickname, Smokey nodded. She considered the term a compliment to her

"Only one customer to that box," added Planchini, "and give him the one buck bills that you've stashed in the

"Except I don't have those bills," reminded Smokey. "You said you'd give them to me this afternoon.

Fishing in a pocket, Planchini brought out some tens and twenties. The girl stepped to the cash register.

"Nix!" interrupted Planchini, leaning across the counter. "I can't list the numbers here. I'll get some in the

"I thought you weren't eating in that cheap joint any more," she asserted. "If you could hear what people say

"They aren't the people I entertain," interposed Planchini. "So don't let them worry you. I'll take one cigar"

he helped himself from the Havana Special box "and I'll be seeing you later. Meanwhile, don't forget your

Smokey smiled at that, knowing that Planchini couldn't mean much later in her case, since he'd have to return

to plant the dollar bills he spoke about. Following Planchini with her own eyes, the girl didn't notice that she

"She was saying something about dollar bills," informed Frost. "I know, because I practiced lip reading, on

"Say, that's a good dodge!" complimented Varno. "One I'll bet that even Planchini missed."

Frost didn't like the term "even Planchini" since it denoted superiority in Varno's mind. But Frost erased his

"Scout around here," Frost told Varno. "Make some contacts of your own. Bar tricks ought to help you get in

The suggestion pleased Varno and he headed for the bar while Frost sauntered in the direction of the

drugstore. What Varno didn't see was the superior smile that Frost wore in departure.

In the opinion of Glanville Frost, he personally was getting closer to the inside of the Planchini business than

THERE was another and more important reason why the girl at the cigar counter didn't like it when Planchini

That reason answered to the name of Babe and it worked behind the drugstore soda fountain, provided that

lounging around in the willowy style befitting a tall peroxide blonde could be called working.

Certain customers, however, stirred Babe to rapid service and Planchini rated A1 in that category. Babe had

the orange juice and scrambled eggs coming up with coffee the moment that Planchini entered. With an

appreciative nod, the Big Brain sat down and unfolded an afternoon newspaper that he had brought along

"Please give me scrambled eggs and hurry," recited Planchini, sideglancing at a five dollar bill that he held

"Coffee up!" Babe planted the cup on the imitation marble. "Three, eight, four, three, four, seven. What about

"Better pay you now," he said. "Maybe I'd forget. Give me my change right away, because I might forget that

too." Swinging on the revolving stool, Planchini stared across the newspaper and spoke suddenly: "Oh, hello,

Babe, being a smart babe, recognized that Frost must be a rival mentalist and therefore somebody who

demanded Planchini's full attention and bluff. So she changed the five spot and put the result on the counter

"Things are fine," said Frost. He nodded at the newspaper. "What are you doing? Reading your press

"On the front page?" Planchini raised his thin eyebrows in surprise. "My, my, you're giving me credit, Frost.

"Because I don't want my name to be there," confided Planchini. "I cater to a swank clientele, not to people

who gorge on news of murder and robbery or who delight in scandal. Put that in your next exclusive

The last shot told with Frost. He made a specialty of printing overpriced brochures on how to do anything and

everything in magic. One of those publications covered the tricks of the mindreading trade; in referring to

the price, Planchini accented it as though five dollars was the fee that a mentalist could expect after imbibing

His own mention of five dollars reminding him of something, Planchini shoved the newspaper to Frost to

distract his attention. To cover his own chagrin, Frost glanced at the journal and found something that

"You should have predicted this!" exclaimed Frost. "It more or less ties in with that clientele of yours. A

robbery at the Landworth Apartments, frustrated by the police, thanks to a mysterious tipoff."

"A telepathic tipoff," observed Planchini, drily. "I sent it personally by mental radio."

Frost was turning pages to read the rest of the story. Planchini picked up his small change from the counter

and dropped it in his right coat pocket, where his hand remained. Meanwhile, his left picked up the dollar

bills and began to thumb them, much as Val Varno would have handled a pack of cards.

In spreading the newspaper, Frost caught a glimpse of Planchini's action. Doubling the paper, Frost slipped a

long thumbnail against the newsprint and neatly slashed a sizeable opening. Newspaper spread again, Frost

What Frost was doing, was spotting Planchini's pocket through the opening, watching a motion of Planchini's

buried right hand. In pretending to read slowly, Frost was actually scanning sentences rapidly, then reciting

them from quick memory, so Planchini would not suspect that he was under observation.

"The Agnew jewels," announced Frost. "All recovered including a diamond pendant belonging to Mrs.

Momentarily Planchini's hand halted and at the same moment, Frost's voice paused. Then, oilytoned, Frost

"Two masked crooks escaped, but the third, identified as Dirk Quingal, was shot resisting arrest and died in

the hospital without a statement. The robbers used tear gas to escape but dropped the jewels in their hurry.

The wall safe was found wide open but undamaged. Police are quizzing servants to know if any knew the

Planchini's hand still was making occasional pauses. Recognizing why, Frost began to wonder if the

newspaper item had jarred Planchini at all. The reason for Planchini's hand pauses was that he was using a

tiny pencil to write notations in his pocket. Those notations were the serial numbers of the dollar bills that

Planchini was thumbing with his left hand. Planchini had to shift his pocket pad after each row of figures.

"Funny business, this," commented Frost. "The police say it isn't the first robbery that looked like an inside

job but wasn't. There have been a lot lately, but they can't trace how any originated.

"Another thing" Frost was really concentrating on the news account now "this Mrs. Agnew was a victim

of a forgery about six months ago. It was the case where Hubert Lidden, the bank cashier, was sent to Sing

Looking up, Frost found he was talking to the air. Planchini had finished his belated breakfast and had gone

back into the lobby. Tossing the newspaper aside, Frost started that direction and was just in time to see

The darkhaired girl behind that counter was putting some money in a side till of the cash register and

Planchini was continuing on toward the entrance to the Crystal Room, which was just opening for the dinner

trade. So Frost went to the tap room instead and there found Varno doing some card tricks for two men at a

table, both of whom looked mildly interested. Frost sat down and Varno introduced him between riffles of the

Frost had missed out on something by not following Planchini. Instead of going to the Crystal Room,

"I'm so mixed with numbers," the girl said with a winsome headshake. "I just can't remember how that code

"You're a great girl, Bubbles," approved Planchini. "You mustn't try to remember too much. Those lists, for

"I don't, except when there's something very unusual. For instance, I don't remember numbers after I copy

"You won't have to copy numbers any more. Not unless you know exactly what they are, street addresses for

"That's just the kind you don't need to copy. By the way, you couldn't tell me whose numbers those were that

"Then just forget all about them," suggested Planchini smoothly. "Street numbers and telephones that's all

Returning to the elevators, Planchini looked toward the cigar counter just long enough to exchange a smile in

that direction, which enabled him to miss the hoyden's elevator, as if by chance. Entering the car that Reds

maneuvered, Planchini found himself alone with the girl before they reached the twelfth floor.

"Who did we have in the lost and found department last night?" asked Planchini absently. "Or was there

"There was some woman who lost something, but who she was, I've forgotten. A lot of people were trying to

remember things they'd lost, just to test you. But don't bother about last night. I'll pick up plenty of scraps for

Reaching his suite, Planchini found some envelopes already awaiting him, including a fat one from the

clipping bureau that he patronized. But Planchini was too tired to go over this data so soon. He tossed the

envelopes on one of his several filing cabinets and stretched himself on a couch.

The settling twilight that was dawn to Planchini put him in a placid mood. If he looked pale and gaunt in that

dull light, it was only because he lacked the dark, full makeup that was part of the Planchini that the public

For the laugh that Planchini gave was a healthy one indeed, a selfsatisfied laugh at his own genius in

AT about halfpast eight, New York time, Lamont Cranston paused at the cigar counter in the Chateau

Parkview and drew a ten dollar bill from his pocket as he looked over the display of cigars. One glance at

Cranston spelled "Crystal Room" to the girl behind the counter. Anyone wearing evening clothes so

The girl came up with the box of Havana Specials and the sales talk that went with them. Always a fancier of

panatelas, Cranston purchased a quota of the thin cigars. The girl promptly put the box beneath the counter,

What happened next did not escape Cranston's seemingly casual eye. He saw the girl bring four one dollar

bills from a side till of the cash register. That was all Cranston needed to know.

Reaching the doorway of the Crystal Room, Cranston inquired for Mr. Maywick's table. He was ushered to a

ringside seat where Maywick promptly introduced him to a crowd of prosperous visitors. Among them was a

Bonnie was wearing the same gown of the night before and she was really a rhapsody in blue. Enough so to

violate the unwritten law of the Crystal Room, where the lady habitues never appeared in the same gown

Perhaps because Bonnie didn't yet rate as a regular, she was getting by; but for that matter, Bonnie could have

gotten by in any company. Right now she was the most attractive sight in the Crystal Room not excluding the

To refer to Bonnie, all Cranston had to do was raise his eyebrows in Maywick's direction.

"Her father was a friend of mine," confided Maywick, leaning Cranston's way. "I hardly remember him, but

"I sell a lot of solid securities to reliable customers," added Maywick. "I always warn them not to trade such

giltedged purchases for doubtful stocks. But many of them do" he shrugged unhappily "like this chap

Dinner was being served, which pleased Maywick's guests, because they wanted to reach their desserts before

Planchini's act went on. It was a standing rule of the house that no serving should take place while Planchini

But Planchini acted in an unofficial capacity also, as became evident during dinner. The great mentalist

appeared, smiling blandly through the dark, fullfaced makeup that completely changed his gaunt and pallid

visage, and nodded to regular customers as he proffered the large glass bowl in which he collected sealed

Again, Glanville Frost and Val Varno were witnesses to this procedure from the undesirable table where they

"What a phoney!" commented Frost. "He won't give any of those messages back. It's fifteen minutes until

show time and all he has to do is open them backstage and pick the stuff he knows he can answer."

"Yeah," agreed Varno, glancing at the coin he was rolling along his knuckles. "But that's still what gets us

"I'd like to see what goes on back there," remarked Frost. "Or better, I'd like to have a peek into Planchini's

"You wrote a book on how to crack handcuffs and pick locks," reminded Varno. "Why don't you load with

"A good idea," nodded Frost, "except right now I'm getting interested in what I'm seeing here. That patch of

The patch of blue proved to be Bonnie, and she must have captivated Varno's attention too, for Val's coin

slipped and struck the table, the only time he'd missed on the coin roll in weeks. Planchini had stopped at

Maywick's table and Bonnie was reaching a long, lovely arm across so that she could drop her sealed

Even at this distance, Bonnie's soulful expression was evident and it was obvious that she believed in the

"Dames," observed Varno. "That's what Planchini's act is built on. They all fall for that mental hoke."

"Or for the gentleman who dispenses it," modified Frost, thinking in terms of a soda fountain, a cigar counter,

and their respective attendants. "I wonder if he'll really go through with a two person act."

"You mean where the guy codes the dope to some girl?" demanded Varno. "Not a chance! Planchini wouldn't

be a good audience man; they have to be mousey like so many mice. The girl steals the act."

"Which would be all right with the right girl," decided Frost, watching Bonnie drape back to her chair. "It

"They fall for the hoke, too. You said that yourself, Val. What's more, around the better grade saloons such as

this, the men pay the checks. Maybe" Frost's eyes were more than speculative "it's time that they fell for

Others than Frost and Varno were decidedly interested in the trusting manner that Bonnie had displayed

toward Planchini. Over at their favorite table were the two men who had shown some interest in Varno's

"That dame gets an answer," stated Keene. "I wonder if it's going to be the one that counts."

"It might be," acknowledged Smiley, "unless Planchini is too smart to show his hand."

"He'd be smart if he did," gritted Keene. "He must know we want some service for being put on the spot."

"According to a note I received today," confided Smiley, "we're to pick up another big stupe named Hawser

Thorgin, whenever we need him. Here" he shoved the note Keene's way "read it and don't weep."

"Same writing as the one I got," Keene undertoned. "Hang on to it, Smiley. We may want to match these

"That's it. If we can't pick up some of those sheets he scribbles when he's answering questions, we may be

Keene's notion pleased Smiley, particularly when he noted that his letter lacked any mention of his own

name, as well as a signature. Therefore the people who had received the letters would not be implicated if the

But it was equally evident that neither Keene nor Smiley intended to spoil what could prove a lucrative game,

Meanwhile, Planchini, the subject of so much discussion, had retired beyond the screens that stood for

offstage at the Crystal Room. There, in a little dressing room, Planchini was lighting a halfsmoked cigar as

he began cutting open the envelopes that he had gathered in the bowl that lay beside him.

Laying aside those that suited, Planchini fished for the one he specially wanted and had little trouble finding

it. This was Bonnie's envelope and Planchini had made an indentation in the corner of it with his thumb nail.

Though he lacked the long nails that Frost wore, Planchini's were sufficient to accomplish enough in their

Planchini's eyes glistened at sight of a smaller slip that Bonnie had enclosed with her question. His gaze then

became speculative, very much so. Checking a card index that he had brought from his suite, Planchini found

Drawing on his cigar, Planchini kept testing the aroma of the panatela as he stared into the thickening smoke.

The room was becoming smokeheavy, but Planchini seemed to like it that way, until suddenly he tossed the

When the call came for Planchini's floor show to begin, the mystic stepped from his dressing room, smoking

a cigarette instead of a cigar. Closing his eyes, Planchini rubbed their lids gently, to make sure he had affixed

Fully turbanned and carrying his crystal ball, the Great Planchini appeared amid a crescendo from the

PLANCHINI'S act always opened with what he termed a warmup, to whet the interest of the audience.

Going around from table to table, Planchini gained occasional impressions, which filled time while a polite

The warmup had been somewhat lukewarm recently. Tonight, Planchini intended to make it red hot.

Gazing into the crystal, Planchini caught sight of reflected faces that he knew, since the whole room was

lighted at present; in fact, the spotlight man was just starting from his office up to his booth. At one table,

Planchini paused to state that someone there was thinking of the Ozark Mountains; at another, he gained the

These were stock stuff, worked on customers whose history Planchini knew by heart. Another of his favorite

gags was that of getting an impression from someone whose birth month was September. Some woman

would invariably claim that distinction and Planchini would dish out a brisk astrological reading as though

Always, Planchini paused and swayed, taking deep breaths in accordance with yoga tradition. That was what

They'd been saying lately that Planchini was either missing numbers or dodging them, so he was ready to ruin

that impeachment. Planchini's long breathing exercises were with a given purpose. He was sniffing for a

strong fragrance with which he had just educated himself, that of a very pungent Havana Special cigar.

Among the cigars that were being flourished at the nearest tables, Planchini saw only one of the thin panatela

variety. Stepping to its owner, identifying the pungency again, Planchini was more than pleased. The man

who was smoking the planted cigar happened to be at Maywick's table, the same table where Bonnie Blye

The cigar smoker of course was Lamont Cranston, but Planchini didn't know his name, which made it all the

"Would you state on oath," inquired Planchini, "that there is positively no collusion between us?"

"Suppose then," suggested Planchini, "that you use your own money for the test I am about to perform. Take

some bills and pass them to other persons at this table. Not big bills" with a broad smile, Planchini added

what passed as a touch of humor "because I wouldn't want you to risk losing them.

"One dollar bills will do, but keep them with the green side toward me. I want only your friends to see the

serial numbers on those bills, each friend who takes one. Then, as each person concentrates, I shall mentally

Naturally the dollar bills that Cranston produced were those from the cigar counter, since he'd had to change

a higher bill there. As Cranston carefully distributed them, Planchini added just one amendment; namely, that

the bills should be placed with persons well apart, so as to obtain a wider range of thought.

"One to the gentleman over there," said Planchini, "another to the lady over here the lady in blue "

The lady in blue was Bonnie, which made it perfect for Planchini. He was going to move this redhot

"I get the impression of the letter 'D,'" began Planchini, staring into the crystal ball, "followed by the figures

"My bill," acknowledged Cranston, looking up from the one that he had retained. "You're giving it perfectly."

Planchini turned the crystal slightly, which was necessary because under it he had the paper that he had

scribbled in his pocket earlier. The crystal was enlarging the figures like a magnifying glass. Planchini called

the rest belonging to that bill and Cranston acknowledged that all numbers were correct.

At that, Planchini was glad to finish with Cranston. Over the crystal, he noted the man's face, calm,

impassive, almost masklike. Cranston's eyes, when they looked up, proclaimed insight which troubled the

"Another number comes to mind," continued Planchini. "The letter 'A' then the figure seven eight three

"The number on your bill," emphasized Planchini, as though the dollar didn't belong to Cranston.

As he droned the figures that the crystal magnified, Planchini stole another glance at Bonnie and saw that she

was quite agog. Getting what seemed a really mental answer was strictly a convincer where the girl was

concerned. As she went through with the business of the dollar bill, Planchini could see the eagerness that

It meant that Bonnie was hoping for an answer to her written question and believed that she would get it. That

The moment that he finished naming the number that Bonnie corroborated, Planchini shifted position, raised

his free hand and snapped his fingers. Out went the crystal chandeliers, on came the spotlight as if by magic.

Trained on Maywick's table, the glare caught both Planchini and the earnest girl.

Bonnie gasped as the mystic's eyes sparkled fire. Actually, Planchini's eyes were closed; the brilliants on his

eyelids were reflecting the focussed light and therewith casting those vivid sparks. But Bonnie felt that it was

"You have a question!" announced Planchini. "An important question, that you do not have to write, because

it is so predominant in your mind. The question that you have waited long to ask "

There, Planchini inserted one of his dramatic pauses that seemed to fill the hushed blackness away from the

"I gain the impression quickly," continued Planchini, "because it is about money. You began by thinking of a

"Dollars, but not in cash," declared Planchini. "You are thinking of a check to the amount of twentyseven

Bonnie couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted. Her eyes were wide, fascinated by the glitter of Planchini's

blazing orbs. If Planchini had seen the girl's face then, he would have realized that she was on the verge of a

hypnotic state. But Planchini's own eyes were closed, as a help toward selling the medicine that he was

"I see the name Gregg Zerber." Planchini was opening his eyes as he lowered them to the crystal. "It is the

name with which the check is signed. You want to know who actually wrote that signature."

"A check that you have never seen," specified Planchini, "but with a false signature which you know to be a

All intensity, Bonnie was looking up, completely frozen. It was Maywick who recognized her semihypnotic

state, for he was closest to her. If Cranston noted it, he gave no sign; he was seated calmly, with arms folded.

"Wait, Planchini!" began Maywick, reaching to grasp Bonnie. "The girl isn't well "

It was too late. Eyes closed, Planchini heard another forcible, "Yes" from Bonnie and the tone must have

"You will recognize the man from his initials," declared Planchini. "Acknowledge the facts when I give them.

Clutching Bonnie with one hand, Maywick was rising to brandish an interrupting gesture toward Planchini,

which the latter saw as his eyes came open. But at that very instant, Planchini was voicing the revelation that

Bonnie Blye acknowledged the initials dramatically enough. This time it was the girl's eyes that went shut, as

with a sobbing sigh, Bonnie collapsed from Maywick's hasty grasp, jarred the man on the far side before he

A SHOWMAN to the core, Planchini blandly gestured the spotlight to where it would show what had

happened to the young lady whose mind he had read too well. Into the glare came Maywick, Cranston, and

Then, Planchini's hand carried the spotlight with him as he stalked to the fish bowl and picked out an

"For my second question, I shall describe an elephant, a white elephant. I mean a real white elephant

A voice responded and Planchini flagged the spotlight to the side of the floor away from Maywick's table to

pick out an elderly man who was acknowledging the question. Over in their corner, Val Varno and Glanville

"Everybody knows that guy," declared Varno. "He's Pete Bouton, the big circus man. I read all about him in

"The people here don't read the Billboard regularly," reminded Frost, "except for Planchini and the orchestra.

The orchestra members were buzzing among themselves while the audience at large listened in amazement to

Planchini's accurate description of King Yumba, lead elephant of the Siamese herd, while the circus man

"What's more important," stated Frost, "is what happened to that girl. They must be helping her out of here in

"The dame overplayed it," was Varno's opinion. "I knew she was just another of Planchini's plants when she

"And Planchini staged a real one tonight," interrupted Frost, "even though he didn't mean it. You'd better read

my manuscript on genuine hypnosis, Val. If I could see that girl right now, I believe I'd find her in a

Answering his own question, Varno flung his hand upward and a whiff of flame ascended, bringing gasps

"Give me that flash stuff," ordered Frost. "You'll have us chucked out of here next. You'd think you were

some amateur magician, doing tricks while an act is on. They'll be asking you to show your U.W.A. card

Varno laughed at that, since the United Wizards Association, represented by the initials, answered to the

nickname of "Usually We're Amateurs." Nevertheless, Varno handed over the bottle of flash capsules that he

"I'm going out to the lobby," stated Frost, "so I can learn what happened to the girl. Check on the rest of

Already out in the lobby, Bonnie was definitely exhibiting signs of a hypnotic state with her steady, vacant

stare. Two ladies of the party volunteered to take her to a room where she could rest, while Maywick hurried

to the drugstore, stating he'd phone his physician from there, since it would be a handy place in case the

As for Lamont Cranston, he was already making a phone call from the lobby booth that no one else used

because it was marked "Out of Order." A wavery voice answered and Cranston immediately changed his tone

"Oh!" The quaver showed surprise. "I can tell you where Mr. Zerber went, Mr. Allard. He left for the

Merrimac Club. He'll be at the Heliocar conference and I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

The laugh that followed that phone call could have been styled a cross between Cranston's and Allard's. If

Zerber had wanted Allard at the Heliocar conference, he would have asked him there. However, Zerber,

These things were to be explained in due course. Just to simplify matters, the man who looked like Cranston

but called himself Allard, underwent a quick change in the unused phone booth. In brief, he slid into the

cloak and hat that formed the habit of The Shadow. Releasing a special panel in the depths of the phone

Nobody witnessed that departure though one man seated in the lobby knew that it must have occurred. That

man was Harry Vincent, the friendly chap who had turned over his cab to a lady in distress the night before.

Ace among The Shadow's agents, Harry was stationed in this hotel lobby to observe what happened during

Oddly, The Shadow was at that moment riding in the same cab that had figured in last night's events. Or in a

sense, it wasn't odd, since this happened to be The Shadow's own cab. Piloted by Moe "Shrevvy" Shrevnitz,

the speediest hackie in Manhattan, this cab was always at The Shadow's beck. Last night it was Shrevvy who

had disclosed that Bonnie Blye had gone to the Chateau Parkview, since Shrevvy had taken her there.

Now Harry Vincent was witnessing something so phenomenal that he wished his chief had remained to

observe it. His attention attracted by a motion on a stairway to the mezzanine, Harry saw a blueclad figure

At first sight, Harry thought that the ravishing blonde had recuperated from her recent shock, but as she

crossed the lobby, Harry noted her fixed stare and recognized its autohypnotic quality. Clutched to the bosom

of her blue gown, Bonnie was holding the ornamental handbag that she had carried the night before, pressing

Evidently Bonnie valued something that the bag contained, but no one other than Harry noted it. As for the

girl's slow, dreamy stalk, it was customary for young ladies in evening attire to acquire such fantastic

manners after imbibing too many of the fancy cocktails dispensed in the famous Crystal Room. Hence

As for Harry, he knew that Bonnie hadn't taken a single drink while in the Crystal Room, because Harry had

been there at another table. Harry simply supposed that Bonnie was going back to join Maywick's party and

But Bonnie didn't stop at the Crystal Room. The speed of her pace increased, she went right out the front door

of the Chateau Parkview. That was when Harry came to his feet and followed, but too late.

Two cabs were standing outside the Chateau Parkview and Bonnie shouldered her way right into the first.

This caused quite a stir along the sidewalk, since Bonnie looked like a fugitive from the Crystal Room, for it

was hardly likely that otherwise she'd have hurried outside without stopping to put on her evening wrap.

As the cab pulled away, the doorman and passing pedestrians stared toward the hotel expecting some

tuxedoed chap to come rushing out and call the girl back, but the only candidate at that moment was

Glanville Frost, who had stepped outside the hotel to learn if fresh air could help him unravel more of the

In the style of a practiced magician, Frost performed an immediate disappearance into the second cab while

eyes were fixed the other way. That cab was off along Bonnie's trail by the time Harry Vincent sauntered out

to the sidewalk, affecting complete indifference where the Bonnie question was concerned.

Seeing that Harry wanted a cab, the doorman started to whistle one for him, while Harry went through the

agony of repressed impatience at the lack of such a vehicle. The cab wouldn't be worth the twenty cent price

of a minimum ride by the time it arrived, since it would then be too late to follow the others.

Making a wild guess as to where Bonnie could have gone, Harry remembered a name that Planchini had

spoken, the sort of name that people usually dismissed from mind after a questioner acknowledged it as

Maybe Harry was becoming really telepathic, for somehow his recollection of that name seemed to date, not

with Planchini's revelation, but from the moment that Harry had seen Bonnie coming down the mezzanine

Quickly Harry swung back into the hotel to find a phone book and look up the number of Gregg Zerber

That name, Gregg Zerber, was in other minds as well. Back in the Crystal Room, Keene Marker and Smiley

"I'm betting on Question One," Keene was saying. "It was the knockout of the evening."

"A safe bet," agreed Smiley. "Less odds than usual, too. Planchini only clicked off five tonight."

"Smart, cutting his act short," declared Keene. "All the punch was at the start, but he held the people as long

as they expected something just as strong. He clipped that last five minutes before they could go wise on

Smiley nodded, indicating that he'd timed Planchini's act, too. His hand was strumming the table as he

"Maybe Planchini won't be using us," spoke Smiley. "The dance act is over and the guy from the booth will

be down here any time now. Planchini has been up in his room at least five minutes. He ought to know that

Smiley's ear had caught a single ring from the telephone in the office. Keene was alert too, half rising as

though he didn't expect more. Smiley came to his feet too and a moment later, both men were sidling through

One ring only, meaning the name that these two guessers had picked: Gregg Zerber.

BY the time The Shadow's cab had reached the Merrimac Club, the face of Lamont Cranston had undergone

a complete transformation. In the dark, The Shadow, master of disguise, had switched his features to those of

It had taken little of The Shadow's genius to accomplish this remarkable result. In actuality, he had simply

wiped Cranston's visage away, taking care to remove a waxlike base that was responsible for the perfection of

Still The Shadow in attire, the cloaked passenger made a quick survey of the street as the cab swung in front

of the Merrimac Club. Ready for almost anything along this trail, The Shadow was prepared to handle lurkers

in his own inimitable style, before Zerber arrived. Only there were no lurkers, which was why The Shadow

This was one of those exceptional cases when The Shadow disclosed his real identity, but under

circumstances when nobody would begin to guess it. Greatest of The Shadow's secrets was the fact that the

very character which had become a part of him, that of Lamont Cranston, was in itself a disguise.

The Shadow had learned to live the role of Cranston, to the point where becoming Allard seemed strange

indeed. His agents and a few trusted others, believed that he was Cranston; though they knew that on

Even in his archives, The Shadow referred to himself as Lamont Cranston, if only for convenience. (Ed:

Having full access to The Shadow's archives for a period of fifteen years, I can vouch for the fact that there

was not even the slightest reference to Kent Allard prior to the time when a chance emergency caused The

Shadow to resume his real identity. See "The Shadow Unmasks," Vol. XXII, No. 5, Aug. 1, 1937. Maxwell

Grant.) Of course this gave him the advantage of holding the Allard identity in complete reserve should

future policy demand it. Perhaps that was The Shadow's real reason for reverting to his own self so seldom.

There was a reason where Gregg Zerber was concerned. Zerber had known Allard from some years back, but

had never met Cranston. It was Allard who had flown the mail for Zerber when the latter had been threatened

with the loss of his contract with a Central American government that expected planes to ride the highest

Always thereafter, Zerber had been going to do great things for Allard, but had been too busy accomplishing

great things for Zerber. The door of Zerber's apartment was always wide open, but never that of his office.

Right now, Zerber wasn't going to be happy when Allard crashed the gate of the Heliocar conference.

Smiling slightly at that thought, Allard didn't forget his limp when he entered the foyer of the Merrimac Club.

The limp belonged to Allard permanently, because it was part of his story about being lost amid a tribe of

Xinca Indians in the Yucatan Peninsula at the very time when an amazing personage known as The Shadow

Announcing himself at the door of the conference room, Allard listened for comments from within. He still

had reason to smile when he thought how welcome Lamont Cranston would have been, as a potential investor

with access to millions, in contrast to a forgotten skybird like Kent Allard. But instead of excuses, Allard was

"Sorry, Mr. Allard," the man said, "but Mr. Zerber won't be with us this evening. He called from his

"But I found his apartment," returned Allard. "His servant told me he had already left for this conference."

"You must have misunderstood old Jeffers," declared the committee man, referring to Zerber's servant. "He

"Something detained him," came the explanation. "An unexpected appointment, so he said. Frankly, we

thought it must be you, Mr. Allard. Always, Mr. Zerber has spoken of you so highly that we know he would

Having had enough of that complimentary doubletalk, Allard bowed his departure. Limp notwithstanding,

he made a quick return to Shrevvy's cab and was giving an order as he settled in the back seat, sliding into his

That last phrase was the sort that made Shrevvy see green in the way of traffic signals. Red lights could be

something that Shrevvy sometimes couldn't see and this was one of those times. Twenty minutes was a

proper estimate of the time lost by detouring to Zerber's apartment by way of the Merrimac Club. Shrevvy

While Shrevvy was doing anything but dawdle, Bonnie's cab rolled up to the apartment house where Zerber

lived and disgorged its charming passenger. Over the sill of the front window, the cab driver met the wide

stare of fixed blue eyes and watched curved shoulders respond to the action of graceful arms and hands that

Shoulders erect, face solemn, Bonnie walked into the small apartment house, finding the door unlatched

because the buzzer device was out of order. As if in a trance, the blonde approached an automatic elevator,

pressed the button and waited while the car made a slow, laborious trip down from the fifth floor.

As was common with hypnotized subjects, Bonnie was focussed on one thing only, the elevator. She wouldn't

have heard the outer door slam even if it had. When the elevator arrived, the girl entered it, closed the door

This proved that Bonnie was in a hypnotic trance. Any normal person of reasonable agility would have used

the stairs to reach the second floor, rather than wait for the wheezy elevator to come all the way down from

the fifth. In starting later from the Chateau Parkview, Bonnie had already lost seven or eight of those minutes

that Shrevvy was trying to make up. She dropped from two to three more, by bothering with the elevator.

On the second floor, Bonnie's stare absorbed the name of Gregg Zerber, which appeared on a door. Opening

the door, Bonnie entered. A feeble groan greeted her, as though from a resisting door hinge, but Bonnie was

Walking through an ample but dimlylighted living room, Bonnie came to the open door of a study and

entered. A creak preceded her, but it could have come from the other end of a loose floor board, for this

The study was lighted but its glow was curiously concentrated. The light came from a desk lamp that was

tilted so its glare would meet the eyes of anyone who entered. Bonnie met that glare without a blink and

Behind the desk sat a dumpy man who wore a smoking jacket. His big face was mostly chin, settled deep

against his chest, the forward tilt of his head enabling his half closed eyes to avoid the light, yet scrutinize his

visitor. On the desk lay a slight strew of papers that looked like canceled checks; the spread was not untidy,

Without a word, Bonnie reached into her handbag, brought out her tight fist and leveled it straight at the

"I am Bonnie Blye. I want the check that you mentioned in the letter. You know the letter I mean, the one that

you wrote to my uncle, Hubert Lidden. Unless you give me that check instantly, I "

Bonnie pressed her lithe body forward to the desk edge, to accompany the forward thrust of her tight fist. Her

Viewed from the door, the scene looked real. Bonnie's taut fist, hidden by her body, must certainly have

gripped a gun to account for the piston action of her elbow. Added to that was Zerber's pose, that of a man so

That was why a man came surging through the door, giving a quick call to make the girl turn about. He was

drawing his own gun, a sizeable automatic, this man who was subbing for The Shadow: namely, Harry

Vincent. If Bonnie turned, she'd have to meet a threat superior to that of her own gun and besides, Zerber was

a factor; he couldn't be counted on to show mercy under this stress. If he had a gun in a desk drawer, he'd be

Only Bonnie didn't turn and therefore Zerber didn't move. What Harry did therefore was complete his drive

and hook Bonnie's right arm with a crossreach of his left. With a backward whip, Harry spun the girl around

like a top, Bonnie making three revolutions before she landed back against the wall.

By then, Harry was gripping the side of the desk to halt his own recoil. Zerber making no move, Harry stared

The girl had been threatening Zerber without a gun in hand; hence there was no mystery as to why he had

ignored the menace. For the moment, Harry Vincent felt as foolish as he was befuddled, until he heard the

floor creak. It came from near the door, that sound, and Harry wheeled anew. He was in time to spot a man

who was starting a sneak from the corner of the room, but Harry's whirl carried him too far to cover the

fellow with his gun. Though Harry couldn't see the man's face in the light, he gained the impression of a

Discovered, this intruder was lunging Harry's way, hands ahead, hoping to snatch Harry's gun. Harry took

one quick sidestep past the desk, then came forward, parrying his gun so as to swing his fist and let the

It was neat, the way Harry caught the man offguard, or it would have been neat if the fellow hadn't flung

one hand upward. From that hand came a sweeping flash of living flame that halfblinded Harry as he hit the

Rolling over, Harry came up with the gun, prepared to shoot blind, when he heard the door slam and caught

the muffled fade of speeding feet beyond. Lowering the gun, Harry came to his feet, rubbed his eyes and

gazed inquiringly to the desk, realizing that, after all, Zerber could explain and with it accept apologies.

As Harry stared, his blinking eyes unbelieving, Zerber slid slowly from the desk that had been wrenched out

of place and landed with a deadweight thud that made the very floorboards creak the message:

Such was the impossible trail of thought that ran through Harry Vincent's mind as he stared at the slumped

Of course Harry's eyes still saw big floating blocks of black as a reflex from the sudden, blinding flash that

somebody had tossed his way. He remembered having seen a few such flashes around the Chateau Parkview

and he identified them with Val Varno. However, that wasn't the main issue of the moment.

Harry looked toward the wall where Bonnie stood. The girl's fist was still clenched, but lowered, while from

her other wrist dangled the blue bag. It had come open, that bag, and in it Harry almost expected to see a gun.

But when he steadied his eyes, he noted that the bag was empty, except for a change purse, a compact, and a

Bonnie's eyes still held the vacant stare which her own intensity, plus the glitter of Planchini's

brilliantstudded eyelids, had hypnotically induced. This convinced Harry that Bonnie couldn't have fired the

Which produced the possibility that Zerber might have been slain by something other than a gunshot!

On that assumption, Harry turned to survey the body closely. Hardly had he stooped above Zerber's form,

before the door clattered and Harry had just time to swing himself above the desk, gun in hand, when he saw

a pair of men enter. Spotting Harry, they immediately deployed, producing revolvers of their own.

It was stupid to be taken so offguard, but Harry wasn't in a condition to avoid it. His vision was still blurred,

to the degree where these invaders looked like floating figures, chopped by blackness. He'd seen both men,

Harry had, around the Chateau Parkview, for the pair consisted of Keene Marker and Smiley Grimm. But

Whether Keene or Smiley recognized Harry was another question; it might be that they thought he was

Zerber, whose body was now out of sight behind the desk. Whether the slick crooks knew why they'd been

sent here did not matter, for they had a general idea, now that they were on the actual premises.

That idea involved the checks that were strewn on Zerber's desk. Maybe they looked like canceled checks but

there might be some negotiable items among them. Keene and Smiley could see well enough, because the

lamp's glare was on the desk proper; besides, a stray breeze, wafting through an open window behind the

Around behind the desk and crouching low, Harry felt the wind against his neck and bristled. Perhaps that

was the nearest Harry could come to giving a shiver, after years in The Shadow's service. Being in a spot like

this wasn't a new experience to Harry Vincent, but those persistent blurs of black before his eyes were

One thing: the two invaders didn't seem to want to start shooting any more than did Harry. However, that

fact, in its way, rendered the situation all the more insidious. They were scheming something, these men that

Harry could scarcely see, judging from the way they kept flanking further, drawing more and more apart.

It couldn't be that they were going to do the rush act. All Harry would have to do would be wheel in one

direction, settle the first man who tried to jump the gun, and be clear around the desk, ready to turn and

Easy enough, if Harry's eyes had been right. On the chance that they soon would be, he started a shift to the

right, imperceptibly at first, all the while wangling his gun from one side to the other, in a lazy but

Floating in with the breeze came the chimes of a neighborhood clock, striking the hour.

Harry didn't need to count the strokes. He knew what time it was: nine o'clock. Those big dongs that stirred

the tense silence had a better use. They provided just enough relief for Harry to move faster, as though he had

become a trifle nervous. He would make it seem that the clock strokes had excited him.

That detail was Zerber's body. Completely forgetting it, Harry stumbled across the sprawled form and had to

grab for the desk to save himself from a fall. From their viewpoint, Keene and Smiley probably thought that

Nevertheless, it served them, because there was something else that Harry had forgotten: Bonnie.

From his left, Harry heard a sharp challenge, and turned in Keene's direction, only to get a blackish glimpse

of the fellow dropping to the shelter of the desk. Harsher, more forceful was the next voice from the right. As

Harry spun that way, knowing that his second adversary couldn't find shelter on this side of the desk, he

Smiley had grabbed Bonnie and was whirling the transfixed girl in Harry's direction, using the slim blonde as

Neither sight nor foresight could have saved Harry then, since Keene was ready to deliver a flank attack

along with Smiley's protected drive. But Harry had wits in plenty and was trained to use them.

Hurling himself straight for Bonnie, Harry met the whirling girl, took a half turn with her in a

changeyourpartner style and came slugging blindly at Smiley, who made a mad dive for Keene's shelter.

Not only that, Harry diverted Bonnie's spin and the girl, ricocheting from the desk, knocked over the lamp

with her wildly spinning arms. As Bonnie did a half topple across his path, Harry didn't grab her as a shield,

Too much of Bonnie was too white and conspicuous even in the halflight that now filtered from the hall, so

Harry simply brushed her toward a front corner of the room as he sliced to a sharp frontward angle of his

own, from which he could charge at the huddled men who weren't ready to receive him.

This slighter light was helpful to Harry's eyes, until something bulked suddenly to block it. Instinctively,

Harry gave a reverse twist, to reach the front of the desk as a shelter from the men upon the left, and at the

Not with a gun, nor a knife, but with the strangest weapon that it had ever been Harry's illluck to encounter.

A thing like a billiard ball came whizzing through the air, not straight, but with a long wide curve. As it

scaled around his shoulder, Harry thought that it had missed him, and jabbed his gun forward, intending to

Then, before he could tug the trigger, Harry was hooked forcibly from his feet, choking and goggleeyed as

he tried to rip away something that had lashed around his neck with tightening coils that would have flattered

That ball was on the end of a long, thin rope and the man who flung it had retained the other end, which was

made in a small loop. He'd swung the thing like a hammerthrow, neck high, purposely giving enough length

Three times the thing had coiled before the ball thwacked Harry's Adam's apple. This little business was a

specialty with Hawser Thorgin, the new husky who had been assigned as handy man to the team of Grimm

Big teeth glittered from a pockmarked face in the dim light as Hawser started to haul in his sagging captive

like some gasping fish. Hooked between the coils of the rope, the ball was causing those coils to tighten,

Murderous treatment, this, which Harry could not have survived, had it continued much longer. But Hawser's

gloating was destined to be brief. Even before the haul was finished, Hawser was challenged by a fierce,

defiant laugh that came through the window, bringing a shrouded shape amid its own echoes. The shape of a

ONE deft whip of the rope and Hawser Thorgin sent Harry Vincent twirling like a top spun from a string.

With another whip of the balltipped leash, the burly strangler tried to loop The Shadow by the same device.

He was gauging by the laugh, was Hawser, slapping the rope low, because he was confident The Shadow had

Hawser guessed right, but missed the reason. The reason didn't miss him. That reason happened to be Zerber's

desk, which The Shadow was flinging forward with a mighty flip. The desk took Hawser much as the loop

had taken Harry, flinging the strangler backward. Hawser's rope hooked a chandelier and stayed there.

On his feet, Harry found himself beside Bonnie and almost as dazed as the girl. He was able, though, to shout

a warning that wasn't needed. The Shadow had already picked out two huddled men who were scrambling to

Keene and Smiley thought they were fast with their guns, but they were slow, painfully slow, in comparison

to The Shadow. He could have nicked them with two quick shots before they learned their guns had triggers,

Abandoning the glorified yoyo that had tangled with the chandelier, Hawser lurched upon The Shadow with

a bellow quite as sincere as Dirk's, the night before. Like Dirk, Hawser received quick treatment. The

Shadow met the husky with a grapple that turned him halfaround, a blockade against Keene and Smiley,

Amid this, The Shadow gave a swift command that cut through Harry's daze. He was telling Harry to get

started and to take Bonnie along. In grappling with Hawser, The Shadow was circling the big strangler

Harry left suddenly, hauling Bonnie with him. It was an unwritten rule with The Shadow's agents never to

argue with their chief. How aptly this rule applied, was proved the moment that Harry and Bonnie were really

Hoisting Hawser with an expert heave, The Shadow flung that struggling chunk of bulk upon the two lurkers

who were back beside the desk. As they flattened, Keene and Smiley began shooting; their target by that time

It took more than one fling to settle Hawser. He came to his feet, but as he did, he took the gunshots to be The

Shadow's. With that, Hawser became The Shadow's ally, for he gripped Keene and Smiley by their respective

necks and tried to crack their heads together, evidently thinking that one was The Shadow, the other Harry

Guns were the only answer to such treatment and the two crooks gave with theirs. Taking the bullets, Hawser

reared and gave a half stagger. Lunging slantwise toward the desk, he blundered into The Shadow as the

From then on, Hawser was quite a handful, exhibiting all the fury of a dying man who wouldn't cave. Keene

and Smiley didn't appreciate what power Hawser had gained, nor did they care to answer to him, any more

than to The Shadow. They took off through the window, to a fire escape just outside it.

All during the fading clatter from the fire escape and the dwindling footbeats from the cement of the rear

courtyard, The Shadow lashed about the room with Hawser, artfully, forcing the strangler to waste his

convulsive fury. More bullets would only have roused Hawser to greater frenzy, so The Shadow didn't use

After a few minutes of borrowed time, Hawser succumbed, suddenly and thoroughly. Letting the dead man's

clutch slide away, The Shadow intoned a mirthless knell then faded out through the doorway.

Police whistles were shrilling through the neighborhood, but there was no sign of The Shadow by the time

Events were shifting rapidly to the Chateau Parkview. There, something of a stir swept the lobby when Harry

Vincent entered, bringing Bonnie Blye. They had made a swift trip here in Shrevvy's cab, which had been

Sidney Maywick dominated the lobby and with him was a solemn man with a physician's satchel. At sight of

"For half an hour I've been hunting this girl!" stormed Maywick. "I brought Dr. Herkimer here" he gestured

to the man beside him "and returned to find her missing. Can't a man go to bring a specialist without having

Harry glanced at the clock above the hotel desk. It registered twenty minutes after nine.

"It took me about half an hour to find her," explained Harry. "I don't even know who she is. I saw her walk

out the door with her eyes deadset for Central Park, so I thought I ought to go after her."

Maywick gradually became mollified and muttered his thanks to Harry. By then, Dr. Herkimer had studied

"This girl's been hypnotized," declared the physician. "She seems to be the victim of some strange fixation,

"Because we do not know the extent of the hypnotic condition," explained Herkimer. "I could awaken her

quite easily, but it might not be wise. She would not recognize me for one thing; furthermore, we would not

"Posthypnosis," he stated, "is a condition wherein the subject has been given some mission to fulfill. It is

always unwise to awaken such a patient without knowing what that later impression is to be. If the subject is

unable to fulfill the posthypnotic mission, it becomes a terrible burden. Therefore you should find the

People were gathering at a respectful distance, but one man had already stepped closer: Planchini. Still

wearing his mystic regalia, the mentalist had just come downstairs from his suite.

"I hypnotized the girl," admitted Planchini, blandly. "It was accidental, because she simply became too

intense while I was giving her a reading. But she is under no posthypnotic suggestion. Shall I awaken her?"

The doctor nodded solemnly and Planchini stepped forward. Finding that the lobby represented an audience,

Planchini did the natural thing; he played to it. This, if anything, would add to the Planchini fame.

Among others who recognized that and rather resented it were Val Varno and Glanville Frost.

"It's a better act than you did in the bar," returned Frost, suavely. "Too many card tricks are like too many

"How do you know?" demanded Varno. "You weren't there to see me work. You only showed up five or ten

"Never mind the argument," interrupted Frost. "Let's watch Planchini. By the way, here are those capsules of

yours." He handed the bottle of flash pills to Varno. "But don't start playing with them now."

Varno was toying with the bottle as the two magicians moved closer and Harry noticed it. Harry's look was

brief, because he didn't want Varno to observe it. Besides, Harry was interested in what was happening with

Lifting the girl's chin with his hand, Planchini turned her face into the light. His own face moved closer until

he remembered that this wasn't Reds, the elevator girl, and also that he and Bonnie weren't alone.

Closing his eyes, Planchini let the brilliants furnish their usual glitter as he snapped his fingers, repeatedly

and emphatically. Bonnie's fixed expression changed; she started to gasp as she saw those sparkling optics

just above her. Taking the gasp as a cue, Planchini actually opened his eyes and gave Bonnie a smile which

"I I can't remember the question that I wanted to ask," began Bonnie. "It it was something "

"Something already answered," interposed Planchini. "No need to remember what it was. Think of another

Two men coming from the Crystal Room halted abruptly at sight of what was happening in the lobby. They

"Guess we'd better get back to our table," said Keene Marker. "We've been sitting there all evening, waiting

"That's right," added Smiley Grimm. "If he's going on soon, we don't want to lose that table."

It was something of an alibi for Keene and Smiley, considering that the same head waiter had seen them go to

that table originally. Of course they didn't mention the proximity of the exit by which they could arrive as

well as leave. That was something Keene and Marker didn't talk about, except to themselves.

One other person was entering the lobby, but he remained entirely unnoticed. Kent Allard, a gaunt man with a

limp, was a stranger at the Chateau Parkview. He was wearing evening clothes, but they looked rumpled.

Nobody would ever have classed them with the immaculate attire of Lamont Cranston, a regular patron of the

Entering a phone booth, Kent Allard dialed the same number as before; that of Gregg Zerber. Phoning a dead

man would have seemed a strange procedure, except that Allard wasn't supposed to know that anything had

Of the three personalities combined in the single individual, only one could afford to know:

POLICE COMMISSIONER RALPH WESTON stared at the bodies on the floor of Zerber's study, then at the

chandelier with its hanging trophy that wasn't a lamp cord. With that, the commissioner declared:

The remark was addressed to Inspector Joe Cardona, a swarthy, stocky stalwart, who usually was prepared to

argue the point, even with the police commissioner. This time, Cardona's nod showed that for once he agreed.

The fact annoyed Weston. He looked toward another man who had just joined them and was again treated to

a steady gaze of the strong, silent variety. The man who received Weston's glance was Kent Allard.

"Cranston ought to be here," decided Weston. "He has ideas. Not constructive ideas, but novel ones. I'd like

"It puzzled us at first," the commissioner said. "We thought that Zerber had been shot, or even knifed. It

To complete the statement, Weston stooped and raised Zerber's chin. Under the man's long jaw, tight around

his neck, was a rope like the one that hung from the chandelier. This rope too had a ball on one end, a loop on

the other. The ball had been pushed through the loop enough times to tighten three coils around Zerber's

"Hawser's work," declared Weston, "Somebody must have come upon him immediately afterward. He tried

to noose them too. I say 'them' because the evidence points to more than one. They shot Hawser instead."

"A few minutes before nine o'clock," announced Weston in a final tone. "Hawser was slain a few minutes

after the hour. Perhaps when we find the persons who killed him, we shall have to extend congratulations.

Allard was studying the rope that hung from the chandelier. It was fairly short, about the same length as the

"About your phone call, Mr. Allard," put in Cardona. "You say Jeffers here told you that Zerber had gone

Cardona gestured to a withery servant who was seated, quite wilted, in a corner of the study.

"I did," quavered Jeffers. "I did indeed. It was nearly half past eight and I didn't know that Mr. Zerber had

only gone to the drugstore and intended to return before leaving for the club. If he hadn't come back, he

"I don't know," replied Jeffers. "But Mr. Zerber thought it was important. He didn't go to the club at all. He

"Only a few minutes after yours, Mr. Allard," testified Jeffers. "He came in just after I talked to you. If I'd

"You couldn't have," interposed Allard, bluntly. "I was looking for a cab to go to the Merrimac Club."

Cardona was an intent listener to this and Allard knew what went on behind the star inspector's deadpan.

Every story, Allard's included, would be checked by Cardona. However, when Joe discovered that Allard had

actually been to the Merrimac Club, he wouldn't care where he had been before that.

One thing Cardona would definitely learn: there hadn't been time for Allard possibly to reach Zerber's before

nine o'clock, the time established as the moment of murder. In fact, allowing for the time of a normal cab trip,

By then the police had taken control, so Cardona would deduce that Allard hadn't come here at all, but had

In fact, Cardona was already so inclined in Allard's favor that he made no objection when Zerber's friend took

a close look at the thick, closely woven strangle cord responsible for the nine o'clock death. Allard noted

particularly that the rope was thrice around the victim's neck and he studied the way in which the ball had

been worked through the loop and the adjacent coils to form an interlaced pattern.

Meanwhile, Cardona was trying to gather further time factors from Jeffers, but with no result. All Jeffers

remembered was a sudden burst of light; when he'd awakened he was lying in the front closet with the door

locked. His thoughts were a blank as to what had happened immediately before that, whether in terms of

Jeffers didn't remember whether Zerber's visitor had arrived, nor how long Zerber had been waiting for him.

Which resolved to the fact that Jeffers had been overpowered some time between eightthirty and nine

o'clock. Since Zerber's death was established at the latter time, Cardona sagaciously marked off Jeffers'

experience at approximately that hour, leaving only the question of whether the murderer had put the quietus

Inspector Cardona was still checking this point when Kent Allard left, bound to a singular destination.

Somewhere in Manhattan, a bluish gleam appeared within the blackdraped walls of a windowless room.

This was The Shadow's sanctum, the hidden headquarters wherein he mapped his campaigns against crime.

Into that light came a pair of hands that seemed like separate entities, for the black sleeves above them faded

into the darkness that rimmed the sphere of light. These were the hands of The Shadow, a fact betokened by a

strange, glowing gem that scintillated from one finger, reflecting the light with everchanging hue.

This rare stone was a fireopal or girasol, a trophy of Allard's actual trip to Yucatan. He had gained it as a

symbol of authority over the Xinca tribe that he had ruled while absent and over which he still held

A map of Manhattan came into the light, drawn there by the long, thin hands. From this, The Shadow traced

the running time between such places as the Chateau Parkview and Zerber's apartment, which he calculated at

Next came a floor plan of the Chateau Parkview showing the various exits from the hotel, including those

through shops that adjoined it. On this plan, The Shadow had marked the secret exit through the tricked

telephone booth, a device which he had uncovered while tracking down a previous crime and now used for

A time chart followed, The Shadow inscribing its details in writing that resembled printed script:

It was approximate, this listing, with allowance for minutes between those specified. This latter point was

covered by the order of the various listings; for instance, the three arrivals at 8:55 had reached Zerber's

separately. It was quite possible that Frost could have passed Bonnie, but Harry's arrival so soon after

wouldn't have allowed Frost any great leeway. Frost had certainly shown speed in departure, according to a

That report had been relayed from Harry Vincent to The Shadow's sanctum, through Burbank, a contact agent

Not only were Harry's reports usually accurate; where this one was concerned, The Shadow was able to check

According to a police surgeon's finding, Gregg Zerber had died at nine o'clock, the very time when other

As Allard, The Shadow had checked the neighborhood clock that had chimed the hour and its time was

correct. Yet Harry's report stated that Zerber was already dead, or practically so, strangled in an expert style.

Even the practiced hand of a strangler like Hawser Thorgin could not have accomplished that job in under

This would indicate that the police estimate was at least five minutes late and that the murderer must have

started operations soon after a quarter of nine in order to be gone before the first arrivals that The Shadow

had listed. The police didn't know that intruders had been on the ground before swift death had reputedly

Something was wrong and badly so. To charge the error to the police surgeon was the easiest course, but The

Shadow did not write it off in that fashion. In the vast majority of instances wherein a surgeon's examination

Perhaps the trouble was the time chart itself, or certain factors which it did not include. To tally on those was

The bluish light clicked off and a parting laugh dwindled amid the shrouded walls of the mysterious sanctum.

EMERGING into the lobby of the Chateau Parkview as Lamont Cranston, The Shadow immediately saw

some persons from whom he might learn a few missing details that belonged on the time chart.

Val Varno was doing some slick card tricks in the corner for a small but enthusiastic group that included

The most puzzling feature of Varno's tricks was why he was doing them at all. Providing free entertainment

around a hotel where Planchini was getting fifteen hundred a week, less taxes and stooge fees, was hardly

Looking for reason, Cranston detected one by its absence. Glanville Frost wasn't around.

It followed that Varno was helping Frost accomplish something special by keeping other persons temporarily

immobilized and this rule could apply to Maywick and Herkimer. Proof of this came when the physician

"Just a moment, gentlemen," began Varno, glibly. "I am about to show you the Monte trick, the real Varno

"You must wait for this, Herkimer," said Maywick to the doctor. With a smile, he added: "You can find the

"You mean Miss Blye?" inquired the physician. "I know exactly where to find her. She is resting quietly in

"I know," nodded Maywick, "so you can watch the Monte trick and go see her afterward."

"That won't be necessary," the physician explained. "You can see how she is and phone me."

"Find the Lady!" interrupted Varno, brandishing two spot cards and a red queen. "You think you can't miss,

but you do. The hand is not just quicker than the eye; it is quicker than the mind! Find the Lady and then

"Good advice for you, Maywick," chuckled Herkimer, slapping his hand on the bearded man's shoulder.

"Learn how to find the lady and you won't have to hunt a half an hour the next time she disappears."

"Lucky for you she did," nodded the physician. "You didn't tell me the patient was missing when you stopped

"Yes," admitted the physician, "she was back when we arrived here. If you'd phoned me earlier, though, I

"Nonsense. It's only a few blocks. You like magic, so stay and watch Varno's tricks. Maybe you should tell

"I do a few tricks," admitted Maywick. "Just as a hobby, you know." He drew back his coat and showed a

"Society of Sorcerers," identified Varno. Then, under his breath, he added the nickname that applied to that

Maywick didn't catch the derogatory statement and Varno followed it with the glib announcement:

"You'll like my Monte routine, mister. All the magi say it's the best. First, you mark the queen "

By then, Cranston had left, like Herkimer. The intricacies of the Monte trick would hold Maywick a long

time, since he was interested in such deceptions. Meanwhile, Val Varno would be fully occupied in

demonstrating it, which allowed good opportunity to check on the activities of a more polished deceiver,

Quite recuperated from her ordeal of the evening, Bonnie Blye was seated in the living room of her suite on

the eighteenth floor of the Chateau Parkview. The fact that Bonnie could afford a suite at such a fancypriced

hotel, added substantially to the aura of mystery that this glamour blonde had already woven about herself.

Particularly it intrigued Bonnie's lone caller, a suave gentleman who answered to the name of Glanville Frost.

It hadn't been difficult for Frost to introduce himself; he had simply phoned Bonnie's room and announced

Now Frost was carrying through with that pretext and handling it adroitly. He'd mentioned that he was a

magician, because that was part of his scheme. Also, it promised well for Bonnie.

"It's about Planchini," Frost was saying. "He's finishing his engagement here at the Chateau Parkview as soon

"On my account?" she inquired. "But I'm sure he didn't intend to hypnotize me at all."

"Completely," Bonnie admitted. "It was just like a blank. When I woke up, I couldn't remember a thing. That

Frost put the question coolly but firmly and Bonnie, perhaps mistrusting her ability to resist direct

That was how the girl's gaze happened to fix on the door and stay there, so strained that Frost began to

wonder if another hypnotic trance was coming over her. Wheeling in his chair, Frost demanded:

"Just my imagination," she explained, gesturing toward the door. "I thought for the moment that I saw the

On his feet, Frost took a few steps toward the door, then returned. The door was closed, hence if anyone had

opened it, that person must have retired outside. Certainly no one would have the temerity to remain within

the door, expecting to stay unobserved in a restricted triangle of gloom that slanted from the doorway to the

Frost's selfimportance restrained him from going over and prowling the spot in question. Moreover, the

hand that Frost had slipped into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket failed to find a little bottle there.

Remembering that he had returned those capsules to Varno, Frost was struck by another thought.

It wouldn't do to stage the flash trick in Bonnie's presence. Perhaps her memory would prove as long as

Frost's was short. A man who specialized in tricks, Frost was beginning to suspect that Bonnie was trying one

"Nothing, really," replied the girl, pursing her eyebrows. "It was like one of those odd dreams, the kind that

puzzle you afterwards. There was someone I intended to go and see, that was all."

"Of course not," laughed Bonnie. "I just wandered around outside the hotel until somebody steered me back

"Because I feel it would be useless," sighed Bonnie. "I'm afraid it was foolish for me to come to New York at

"About Planchini," he resumed, casually. "It's not your fault he's through. He's just been working his act too

"Overdoing it," interposed Frost. "He's been predicting the future. That's telling fortunes. There's a police

"Absolutely. If Planchini was really smart, he'd taper off with a hypnotic act and then switch to magic. But

he'll have to try that out of town first. Now my way would be to work it the other way around."

Noting Bonnie's interested, yet puzzled expression, Frost came right to the particulars.

"I'd start with magic," he explained, "then swing into hypnotism, and finally throw in some mentalism, a two

"You'll find out soon enough," declared Frost blandly. "We'll open with the bullet catching act, which will be

a real sensation. After a few weeks, we'll introduce some hypnotism, because you're a natural subject "

"I'm to be working with you?" interrupted Bonnie. "But I don't know a thing about show business!"

"You don't need to know anything at the start," insisted Frost. "By the time we get around to the mental act,

"And I thought I could stay in New York," expressed the girl. "I was beginning to think I'd have to give up

what I came for" she caught herself quickly "that is, I was beginning to think I'd have to save my money.

"And plenty," put in Frost. "You can stay right here in this suite. Only I'll handle all the interviews and

manage the show. Wait until you see the publicity break that will put us across. I'll tell them "

By "them" Frost meant reporters and he swung as though to address an imaginary gallery of such, only to halt

as abruptly as Bonnie had before. This time it was Frost who thought his eyes were getting jumpy. He could

have sworn he saw the door close, slicing off a portion of that triangular darkness.

Two strides, then Frost halted. Nonchalantly, he turned and bowed to Bonnie, then sauntered toward the door.

Reaching it, he was turning the knob casually, when a knock came from the other side. Whipping the door

"I came for that extra phone book," Reds announced. "The one somebody dragged up from the cigar counter,

Letting Reds pass, Frost strode to the elevator expecting to find someone there. The elevator was empty, so

Frost looked toward a distant door marked "Fire Tower" and thought he saw it closing. Hurrying to that door,

Frost stared down a flight of dimlylighted steps, listening for sounds from below.

There were no sounds; nothing but a streak of noiseless blackness that Frost didn't see as it glided from the

steps to reach a door on the floor below. There, a door opened so quietly that its sound did not carry.

A tall, cloaked figure appeared in the seventeenth corridor, to catch the brief red flicker of a light that denoted

a passing elevator. A whispered laugh came from beneath the slouch hat worn by this shrouded personage.

That mirth symbolized the secret, unseen visitor who had listened in on Frost's chat with Bonnie:

AT the Chateau Parkview they followed the practice of parking surplus elevators at various levels rather than

the ground floor; this, because of changeable express schedules and similar factors.

When elevator operators took over duty, they entered those cars by opening the doors with a hooked

implement misnamed a key. Such "keys" were not too difficult to get, at least The Shadow hadn't found it so.

That was why, shortly after the episode in Bonnie's suite, the ground floor dial above an elevator door

showed that a car was coming down deadhead, but no one noticed it, not even the usually alert cigar counter

The term "Smokey" would have applied better to the shape that issued from the elevator. The door began to

open, imperceptibly at first, then with a sliding partway motion that reversed itself all in one sweep, during

which the yawning blackness of the elevator briefly precipitated itself outward.

One witness alone traced something of what followed. That witness was Glanville Frost who had come

downstairs meanwhile and was standing quietly with the group that was watching Val Varno baffle Sidney

Maybe Frost's imagination was at its peak, but he could have sworn he saw something blackish glide across

the lobby and fade through an obscure doorway beyond. Watching, Frost remained taut until he was startled

It was Varno who nudged. The group was breaking up and Varno was sidemouthing a query:

"I'll tell you later," gritted Frost, under his breath. "Meanwhile, slip me that bottle of flash pills. I'm carrying

those from now on, just in case I meet a certain somebody who needs to be shown up."

All traces of anything resembling The Shadow were gone by the time Frost received the bottle. Frost was

preparing solely for a future meeting with something that still might be a product of his imagination, but

The men who should have thought about The Shadow in present terms were Keene Marker and Smiley

At their favorite table in the Crystal Room, the two slick crooks were methodically taking notes of Planchini's

late show, which was proceeding at its smoothest. Nothing sensational had developed yet, but Planchini was

"Throwing their questions right back at them," said Keene. "He's seeing palm trees in the crystal, but he gets

the impression of snow flakes fading from the picture. Now he's talking about Christmas "

"And the lady is nodding all amazed," added Smiley, looking across to a table where a woman was nodding

to everything Planchini said. "Chances are she wrote a question: 'Will I get my train reservation to Florida in

"Concentrate, please! I see the name that is solely in your mind! The word 'Florida' is in the crystal "

"That's the last," decided Smiley. "I don't think any of them count, this show."

"Why should they?" queried Smiley. "That one assignment we took tonight was plenty."

Recollection of events at Zerber's demanded increased caution. The cronies in crime put their heads closer

together and the mere action blocked off what little light reached the table. In so doing, Keene and Smiley cut

off something else, the trace of a deep gray silhouette that had begun to creep between them.

It was the shadow of The Shadow, cast before. Lost in the gloom just behind Keene and Smiley was a

cloaked form standing so close that he could have placed his hands upon the shoulders of the two men at the

"Neither did I," lowvoiced Smiley. "We missed out again and The Shadow was the reason."

"It wasn't just that." Keene's tone was nervous. "The Agnew job was only robbery. What happened at Zerber's

"So what?" Smiley's words came through his teeth. "Dirk Quingal took one rap; Hawser Thorgin the other."

"It would be worse if they found out about Dirk, because we really staged a robbery at Agnew's. In the case

"And Hawser wasn't the murderer." Smiley's tone had emphasis. "We can vouch for that, because he came

"Which is something we don't want anybody to know," reminded Keene, sourly. "The police would mark us

"On whose word? Nobody's but ours, unless the Shadow wants to give us a clean bill."

That very suggestion relieved the tension. Smiley laughed at what Keene said and in his turn, Keene couldn't

help but see the humor. The pair were still chuckling when the lights came on, marking the end of Planchini's

Fortunately, Keene and Smiley watched the great mystic bow off, otherwise they might have noticed the

blackness that receded from their very elbows, like foam retiring from a spent surf.

Even more ironical was the fact that though both Keene and Smiley were interested in where The Shadow

went, they didn't look that way. The Shadow had withdrawn to the door of the projection man's office, toward

Their voices reached The Shadow, though, for they were very close and thought themselves alone.

"Better allow Planchini a good five minutes," stated Keene. "It would take him that long to get up to his

"He was slow on the phone signal after the last show," reminded Smiley. "He just managed to slip that one

"Lucky it wasn't a latter question," remarked Keene, "or the fellow would have heard the ringing. If Planchini

had been faster with it" Keene's tone became an annoyed growl "we'd have gotten to Zerber's sooner."

"Maybe he didn't want us there sooner," suggested Smiley. "He could have slated us for a rap along with

"Take it easy, Keene. We're not sure yet, and the only way to find out is to play along. We're in this too deep

Minutes passed until the dance act ended and the projection man came down from his booth. By then The

Shadow had shifted to another angle and he saw the telephone in the little office. Keene and Smiley had their

backs turned so the projection man wouldn't notice them and The Shadow took advantage of that situation to

glide out through the convenient exit that the crooks themselves so frequently used.

Soon afterward, Lamont Cranston reappeared in the lobby, there to find Sidney Maywick talking to Harry

Vincent, the young man who had brought Bonnie Blye back to the Chateau Parkview. According to Harry,

Bonnie had simply been wandering in a bewildered state asking people where the hotel was, so he'd shown

This brought an approving nod from Cranston when Maywick introduced him to Vincent. Maywick took the

It was better to keep Bonnie's visit to Zerber's a strict secret, rather than clutter the situation with too many

Most notable was the fact that two signs now appeared outside the Crystal Room, one announcing the merits

of Planchini, the Famous Mentalist; the other advertising Glanville Frost, Master of Mystery, assisted by

These two claims were rather speculative in themselves. As a "mentalist," Planchini didn't state that he was a

fortune teller, nor did the term "master of mystery" specify that Frost was a magician.

As a matter of record, Frost seemed to have the edge as a fortune teller, except that he made his predictions

privately instead of publicly. He'd told Bonnie that Planchini wouldn't stay long at the Crystal Room and it

looked as though the prophecy would come true. Rumor was stirring, though, that Frost knew how to shape

Somebody had phoned a complaint to the police regarding Planchini and that complaint could very well have

come from Frost. Otherwise it was a very remarkable coincidence that he should have tried to book his act at

the Crystal Room just at the time when the management had been officially informed that Planchini would

Smartly, Planchini was extending his time limit on the ground that fortune telling wasn't part of his act. Sheer

entertainment was all that Planchini offered; no fortunes. The police were welcome to attend and learn for

themselves. But the hotel management, doubtful that Planchini's act could stand up in such diluted form, had

The girl behind the cigar counter had gone on a vacation and a quietmannered brunette had taken her place.

Planchini had nicknamed her Smokey, like her predecessor, but her real name was Myra Reldon and she was

So was a new doorman named Jericho Druke, a powerful African who was very gentle with doors of prewar

taxicabs, because his powerful grip, if normally exerted, might have ripped those doors from their hinges.

Being shorthanded, the hotel had hired two other men who belonged in The Shadow's service: Hawkeye and

Tapper. Anywhere that Hawkeye couldn't pry, because of locked doors and such, Tapper provided the

method. The Chateau Parkview was literally providing open house, thanks to this capable pair, but only for

The natural rivalry between Planchini and Frost was something with potential news value, particularly as

Frost calmly claimed that he had purposely let his assistant be hypnotized by Planchini as a test. So Clyde

Burke, a star reporter with the New York Classic, was on hand to cover the first show in which both wonder

workers were to appear. It happened that Clyde was another of The Shadow's agents.

Harry Vincent was around as usual, but Lamont Cranston hadn't been seen at all. Hence on this particular

evening, Sidney Maywick was both pleased and surprised when he saw his calmmannered acquaintance

"Hello, Cranston!" greeted Maywick. "Here to see the big duel in the Crystal Room?"

"No, no," laughed Maywick. He gestured to the display boards outside the Crystal Room. "I mean Frost

versus Planchini. One deceives the eye, the other baffles the mind. I think I can make room for you at my

"I think I can make it," he said. "I just dropped in to see a friend who is stopping here. His name is Slade

"It's just a casual visit," added Cranston. "So I probably won't be long. If anything delays me, I'll phone your

Casual described Cranston's meeting with Farrow, so far as the manner of the two men was concerned, but

the subject they discussed was anything but trivial. Farrow was a stoopshouldered man who greeted

Cranston with an apologetic bow, then took a quick look out into the corridor before closing the door of the

When Cranston was seated, Farrow took another chair, then tilted his head in a listening attitude. He was a

curious type, this man who was well along in middleage. He looked tired, yet alert; his face was hard, but

People who noted these conflicting traits would not have been surprised to learn that Farrow had spent some

of his best years as the inmate of a dozen penitentiaries; he had the mark. What would have surprised them

was the fact that Farrow had never been anything but a voluntary convict. By profession, Slade Farrow was a

criminologist who preferred laboratory work and his idea of a laboratory was a prison cell.

There, Farrow learned what really made convicts tick. Most of all, he could detect the mechanical flaws of a

certain type of human clockwork. Convicts who constantly reiterated the same old story, the claim that they

were innocent, were the sort that intrigued Farrow most. Given a few weeks with such a man, Farrow could

That was Farrow's great purpose, to prove the innocence of men whose punishment was undeserved. When

he struck upon one of those very rare cases, he counted upon The Shadow to help him gain vindication for the

man in question. To Farrow, Lamont Cranston was the Shadow's spokesman on such occasions.

Silently, Farrow handed over his full report, including a photograph of Lidden, a wan, haggard man whose

features looked as though they had been beaten from within. But Farrow didn't judge from mere appearances.

"Lidden was doing too well with his brokerage job," asserted Farrow. "Too well to go in for forgery. He

handled checks for clients as a matter of convenience, but the orders came from the firm. It would have been

very easy for him to put through duplicate checks, the way the prosecution claimed. I would say too easy."

"Yes," affirmed Farrow, "because he would either have worked some system, like a clever criminal; or he

would have overworked it, like a greedy one. Instead, he played it hit or miss."

"The Agnew instance is an example," said Farrow. "Lidden knew that J. Allison Agnew was due in town; that

he always went over his wife's records as a matter of course. If Lidden had waited only a week, he could have

slipped that check through safely. Instead, he played it right into Agnew's hands."

Standing where he could look across Cranston's shoulder, Farrow pointed out other incidents that followed

"Those checks of Zerber's," declared Farrow. "There were two of them, each for twentyseven hundred and

fifty dollars; one genuine, the other forged. Zerber thought he'd made out both of them through some

To save time, Farrow took the report and thumbed through to another page while he continued:

"All Lidden had to do was look through his own records and discover the mistake; that is, if he was crooked.

It would have been smart for him to pay Zerber back, because" here Farrow paused to tap the new

paragraph he wanted "because a forged check had just gone through on Homer Wingate, the importer, for

"Now Wingate was a friend of Zerber's and the very man to whom Zerber would have mentioned the matter

if Lidden didn't settle it. If Lidden had been crooked, he would have covered up. Instead, he wrote Zerber a

"Zerber never appeared in court at all," recalled Cranston. "What was Lidden's theory on that?"

"He thinks Zerber believed him," replied Farrow. "But the case was so strong against Lidden that if Zerber

had produced the forged check, the prosecution would have used it as a clincher and ruled out the letter."

"Yes," interposed Farrow, "and Lidden's niece has the memo that Zerber originally sent to Lidden. He was

hoping, Lidden was, that she would go and talk to Zerber, but he wanted her to see Mrs. Agnew first. If

Agatha Agnew would try to reopen the case in Lidden's behalf, the other evidence would have some value."

"She lives in the Middle West," began Farrow, "and she's probably somebody you never even heard of "

Cranston's smile was slight, but it carried the opinion that Farrow had overlooked something when he arrived

Not that Planchini used a mask; he didn't quite. But his real face, that of a gaunt ascetic, didn't go across with

the management of the Chateau Parkview which felt that everyone should look wellfed in a place that taxed

the customers a fivedollar minimum charge. So Planchini's face needed building and considerable, every

Planchini used a darkish substance resembling putty that filled the hollows of his cheeks. He sleeked his hair

with a special but temporary dye that gave it a distinctive gloss. Of course there were the brilliants for the

eyelids; Planchini had quite a selection of them, and he affixed them with spirit gum.

What made the makeup perfect was the lifesize, handcolored picture that hung in a frame beside

Planchini's mirror. It showed Planchini exactly as he ought to appear and enabled him to fix his face to the

last detail. Thus there were three Planchini's in the strong light concentrated to include them: the original, its

Meanwhile Planchini was listening to a conversation between Glanville Frost and Bonnie Blye.

Those two parties were not here in person; they couldn't be, since the door of this hotel room was

triplelocked. Planchini was listening to their voices, which came from a small radio which served as

Beside the radio lay an open telephone book. Its interior was cut out and the open cover revealed two spools

of wire, a tiny motor and a pair of small dry cell batteries. This was how Planchini had been picking up all

Small wonder that Planchini had played his cards well and kept himself a rival headliner in the Crystal Room.

He'd learned about the new mystery act soon after it had been decided upon; now he was getting details of a

"Don't worry about this bullet," Frost's voice was saying. "It looks like lead, but it's only wax. Painted silver,

"But even a wax bullet might be dangerous," was Bonnie's reply. "Have you tested it?"

"I'll test one now," returned Frost. "See that target? It's about fifteen feet away. Watch!"

"Of course," rejoined Frost's tone. "It hit that thick wood, that's why. Wax can't hold up; the mere heat from

"And I'm to be behind the target," came Bonnie's voice. "That seems safe enough, but be sure you hit the

Hearing a muffled knock from the door of his room, Planchini turned off the radio. He closed the telephone

book and turned from the dressing table. All was very dark away from the glare that Planchini's eyes had

been absorbing so long. A few long blinks, and Planchini saw the blackness draw away as it always did.

Putting the phone book under his arm, he turned out the strong light and picked his way through the dim

"Keep it handy," Planchini told the girl. "Smokey the Second, down at the cigar counter, will tell you where

There being no feud between Reds and Smokey the Second, otherwise the new counter girl, Myra Reldon,

As soon as Planchini had stepped outside the room and closed the door to throw its triple lock, the darkness

laughed, softly and serenely. What Planchini had mistaken for blackness without substance had been the solid

shape of The Shadow, watching the details of Planchini's makeup and listening in on his special recording.

Now, with a tiny flashlight, The Shadow started through Planchini's wellindexed files. Soon he found the

very thing he wanted: an envelope containing clippings and other data. The clippings referred to Hubert

Lidden, convicted forger and the topmost contained a statement by Lidden's niece, Bonnie Blye, insisting

upon her uncle's innocence. From a MidWest newspaper, this was the only clip that mentioned Bonnie.

The other data included the memo signed by Gregg Zerber. It wasn't addressed to Lidden; that was, it bore no

mention of his name, but it referred to the doubtful check that Farrow had mentioned. Also attached were

some notes in Planchini's own particular scrawl, plus a written question from Bonnie, asking for information

To read all this, The Shadow had turned on the strong light above Planchini's mirror. Now, fully revealed in

the glare, The Shadow looked at his own reflection alongside Planchini's picture.

Again came The Shadow's whispery laugh, with a note of prophecy that would have worried even Planchini.

Meanwhile, Planchini had gone down in the elevator with Reds. Stalking through the Crystal Room, he

bowed in his usual style to the customers congregated there. Going backstage, he encountered Glanville Frost

and gave him as friendly a smile as was possible with the putty makeup. Frost turned away to chat with Val

Planchini took advantage of this to knock at the halfopen door of Bonnie's dressing room. The girl drew a

dressing gown from the chairback, threw it over her shoulders and turned to say, "Come in." Seeing

Planchini, Bonnie rose somewhat nervously, but the mystic's genial smile reassured her.

"The best of luck," said Planchini. "I'll go on first to put the audience in a friendly mood. You'll be the big

"You're the act," interposed Planchini, drawing closer. "Not Frost. He is no showman. I doubt that he has

"Very well, then." Planchini's tone was a soft purr, for he had reached the chair beside which Bonnie stood.

The rest was scarcely audible to Bonnie. She sensed Planchini's words rather than heard them. For Bonnie

As on another night, Bonnie was fascinated by the glint, never realizing that it came from the brilliants

attached to Planchini's eyelids. Those sparklers, however, were more hypnotic than Planchini's own gaze. As

inducers of hypnosis, bright objects are the strongest and Bonnie was focussing her sight upon a vivid pair of

such. Breathless, she was answering the words that came from Planchini's almost motionless lips.

In another dressing room, Frost was showing Varno a bowl of envelopes, a duplicate of the type that

"Neat," supplied Varno. "Copping originals by ringing in dummies is an old gag. This is putting it in reverse.

"And that," assured Frost, "is the precise purpose of this original subterfuge."

They stepped from the dressing room just as Planchini appeared from Bonnie's door. Curt nods were

exchanged as before and the three went their separate ways. It was then that blackness moved in from a dim

Seeing the bowl, the blackness approached it and in the light became the shrouded figure of The Shadow. A

thingloved hand plucked a few envelopes from the bowl and opened them, to find blank slips within. Taking

What was going to happen with Planchini's act was something that would puzzle Frost and Varno, quite as

Bowing, the turbanned mystic drew an envelope from his bowl and held it to his forehead as he gazed into the

crystal ball. There, Planchini saw and announced the name "Cairo" which was promptly identified by a

Slinking in from the screen that cut off the backstage rooms, Val Varno slipped into a chair and stifled a

chuckle. Varno had been quite sure the first question would be faked. Planchini hadn't been able to open his

Therefore Planchini, master of unlimited nerve, was using the only system at his disposal, the old "one

ahead" gag long favored by fake parlor mediums. Having faked a question and answered it, Planchini was

now opening the envelope to check the question and assure the audience that he was right.

Of course it would be another question, not the one just answered. Planchini would read that question to

himself and answer it when he drew out the next envelope. Which in turn would give him another question

Naturally Varno chuckled. In drawing blanks, Planchini would have no next question to read. He would have

to go on faking until everybody present would know that there was something wrong.

Looking at the paper he drew from the first envelope, Planchini nodded, tossed it aside and drew another

"Yes," said Planchini, "that first question involved the name of Cairo. I now have another query, signed with

the initials 'H. W.' which asks if this person, 'H. W.,' should sell the jewels. I would say yes, if the price is

Nobody identified the questions, but Varno was a little puzzled by the way Planchini had handled the blank

slip without a show of surprise. Now Planchini was going right on with the next.

"Unsigned, this question," stated Planchini, "and wisely so. I shall not divulge the name, because the person

who asks it admits that he has a considerable sum of money with him. He wants to know if he should proceed

"Someone is really trying to test my telepathic faculties," declared Planchini. "This questioner must have

been in the lobby when a new guest just checked into the hotel. He wants to know what room was assigned to

a person named 'Wingate.' I get the number" Planchini paused dramatically "one six one two."

It went on, this amazing act that was too smooth to be merely a matter of adlibbing with blank slips, much

to the bafflement of Varno. One question involved an important package; whether or not it should be put in

the hotel safe. Another asked if an old friend could be trusted. A few more seemed to revolve curiously about

Since people weren't calling out their identities, Planchini didn't waste time sending the spotlight to look for

them. He was working a different act tonight, a fast one, because his time was limited, and he concluded by

Also as usual, much applause came from the table where Sidney Maywick was entertaining a group of

friends. There was just one empty chair at that table, the one reserved for Lamont Cranston. After looking for

Now the great sensation of the evening was at hand. Spotlights were busy showing the polished performer,

Glanville Frost, as he bowed and introduced Bonnie Blye, the hypnotic young lady who was immune to

Bonnie indeed looked like a true hypnotic subject. She was attired in a white fluffy gown that would have

suited Trilby, the historic lady who was susceptible to the mesmeric skill of Svengali.

In keeping with the act, Bonnie walked steadily forward, eyes fixed straight ahead. Frost stopped her, then

proceeded to show a muzzleloading pistol to the audience along with a batch of bullets that clanked the

Over in their corner, Keene Marker and Smiley Grimm were watching these preparations with interest.

"You mean you hope it won't work," corrected Smiley, "but it's one and the same thing."

"If bullets can't hurt people," explained Keene, "I want to find out why. If I do, there's one person I won't

"If you mean The Shadow," argued Smiley, "don't forget he packs a different type of gun."

Now Frost was taking the gun from someone who had examined it. He poured powder down the muzzle,

poked in some wadding, then displayed a bullet and dropped it in next. Finally, he rammed home another

Varno came into the spotlight holding the wooden target at arm's length. The target was a large affair, about a

yard square. Varno took his position midway between Frost and Bonnie, who were about thirty feet apart.

All set to shoot, Frost beckoned Varno a trifle closer. The spotlight moved accordingly, but kept on.

Following it, Varno was getting nearer and nearer to the gun, which annoyed Frost. Looking up to the

Staring elsewhere, Frost learned why. Over by the screen that led backstage, Planchini was gesturing to the

projection man. Used to taking his cues from Planchini, the fellow was following orders. It was Planchini's

Except that nothing could faze the smooth Mr. Frost. As the target loomed right in front of him, he nodded

approvingly and beckoned Varno even closer. It was good comedy, this, easing the strain that the audience

felt. Varno was bringing the target right to the muzzle of Frost's gun, so close that Frost couldn't help but

The nervous laughter from the audience was a tribute to Frost. The muzzle a mere foot from the target, Frost

furnished everyone, Planchini included, with a big, broadly humorous grin. Then, suddenly serious, Frost

"When I fire this shot," announced Frost, "the bullet will pass through both the target and the girl without

leaving a trace! Neither target nor girl will be harmed in the slightest. Are you ready, Bonnie!"

Nervous people were leaving the Crystal Room. Among them were two members of Maywick's party and he

was solicitously seeing them out through the door. Planchini, apparently disgruntled, had retired from the

scene. Frost was holding the gun, its muzzle almost up against the target, while he raised his other hand to

The only sound that broke the silence was heard by two persons who were just close enough to catch it. That

sound was the ringing of the phone in the little office over by the exit. The two men counted the rings.

"His room number is sixteen twelve," undertoned Smiley. "We'll duck out and get up there as soon as that

Terrific was the blast from the old muzzle loader. A tongue of flame gave the target a brief, scorching jab.

Varno jolted slightly as the target jounced, but no eyes were watching him. All were fixed on Bonnie.

With a shrill cry, the girl threw back her head and crumpled to the floor, clasping her hands to the bosom of

her dress with a wild, despairing clutch that slipped away, for as she struck the floor, Bonnie's arms went

Halfstaggered by the gun's recoil, Frost stood gaping at something that gaped right back at him. If anybody

needed proof that a real bullet had carried all the way to Bonnie's heart, there was that proof and graphically.

Punched straight through the bull'seye was the evidence that really staggered Glanville Frost, a

IT didn't take a thoughtwave for Frost to guess the name of the mighty mind behind this murder. Frost's

Flinging the oneshot pistol aside, Frost brushed past Varno and dashed for the screen behind which he was

sure Planchini must be. As he went, Frost whipped an article from his pocket in the shape of one of those

Then, rounding the screen, Frost pulled up with a halfjolt. Instead of Planchini, he was confronted by a

figure cloaked in black. He'd met the very person that he wanted, that ominous foe known as The Shadow!

One of The Shadow's hands was ungloved. It was extended in a halfbeckoning gesture, that seemed to call

for Frost to calm himself. In retaliation, Frost supplied the same treatment that he had doled out to Harry

Frost's hand came up, flinging the capsule, which ignited fully in The Shadow's face. That glare would have

proven blinding, had The Shadow waited to receive it. But The Shadow's lowered arm was on the up as

The rising arm brought a sweep of cloak with it, completely covering The Shadow's face against the spurt of

fire. Then The Shadow's ungloved hand made a swing in Frost's direction and a thumb and finger snapped.

Right then, Frost learned of a potency that made the flamegushing capsules seem trivial. The Shadow's

thumb and forefinger each had a tiny dab of complementary substances that did terrific work. The snap

exploded them with a blast as sharp and startling as Frost's gun. The concussion literally jarred Frost; he

sprawled back on the floor and sat there stupefied while people overtook him and dragged him to his feet.

Others had already left. Keene and Smiley hadn't even waited for the confusion to begin. They were in the

elevator piloted by a redhaired girl, who had delayed the trip just long enough to get something from the

As the two passengers stepped off at the sixteenth floor, the girl handed the object to them. It was a telephone

"I can't leave the elevator," the girl stated, deciding it wasn't wise to disobey rules with passengers present.

Smiley hesitated, but Keene promptly took the book. Then, as they swung the corner, Keene explained.

"The girl saw us come up here, didn't she?" Keene queried. "All right, she might remember us later. Now we

have an alibi. She asked us to leave something in sixteen twelve, That's how we happened to meet Wingate.

Getting it, Smiley agreed. He knocked on the door of room 1612 and had the words ready when the door

Only it wasn't Mr. Wingate. The man on the threshold was Sidney Maywick and his recognition was mutual.

They entered and Keene planted the phone book on the table where it belonged. Maywick closed the door and

"Sit down, gentlemen. I'm sure my friend Wingate will be glad to see you." Pausing, Maywick waited for

comment that didn't come, then asked: "Is there any special purpose in this visit?"

Shrugs were the only answer, but at the same time, Keene and Smiley did some glancing about. They

remembered questions involving jewels and money, a mysterious package and a trusted friend. They were

A key, turned in the lock, was the thing that broke the silence. As all eyes turned, Maywick's alone could

"Pleasant to find you here," announced the mystic, blandly. "While we wait for Wingate, suppose I show you

Planchini drew a coil of rope from under his Hindu jacket and drew the ends to show that it was about a yard

Keene and Smiley gaped as they saw the rope extend itself to double the original length.

"Fooled you?" queried Planchini, smoothly. "It shouldn't. You can buy a yard of it in any magic shop. It's all

He was showing the rope to Keene and Smiley, but keeping his eyes fixed on Maywick.

"It costs a lot, but it's worth it," assured Planchini. "Because this rope naturally contracts to its original length,

More than ever intrigued, Keene and Smiley suddenly found themselves really startled, when Planchini added

"One good trick often explains another. This stretching rope which is really a contracting rope, tells why

"Zerber wasn't strangled," explained Planchini. "He was garroted. In case you aren't familiar with the

difference, garroting may be likened to slow strangulation. The victim's breath is cut off to the point where he

"You're here to listen about murder," interrupted Planchini. "A rope of this type did it. Slowly, steadily,"

Planchini was twirling the rope by the ends as he spoke "it contracted and what had begun as a garroting

"It's the only explanation, Maywick, considering the time element. Somebody must have left this hotel at half

past eight to reach Zerber's before quarter of nine, the latest time that the garrote could have been put on

Zerber. Ten minutes from here to Zerber's" Planchini paused to let the calculation sink home "and that

It did elect Maywick, since both Keene and Smiley could testify that Planchini had been working in the

"Why be a fool?" snapped Maywick. "You phoned a ring signal to these two men yourself "

"I phoned it?" queried Planchini, as Maywick halted. "You mean you phoned the projector's office from

Zerber's. You were trying to plant everything on me. You just proved it, by admitting you knew about the

"See all, know nothing," scoffed Maywick. "That ought to be your slogan, Planchini. All right, I'm The Brain.

I was using these two men for their own benefit. I wanted them to get their share of the Agnew jewels."

"Fair enough," agreed Planchini. "You knew right where those jewels were. Laura Jardine happened to have

the combination and when it slipped out during my act, you recognized what it was."

"Jewel robbing is a tougher job than forgery, though," remarked Planchini. "That was what you worked on

"All you wanted from Zerber was a canceled check and a letter," continued Planchini. "Zerber had no gems."

"All right," snapped Maywick. "So I was covering up. Hubert Lidden took the rap for my forgeries and he'll

stay right where he is. If that niece of his hadn't believed your press notices, she wouldn't have come here to

"I pulled a forgery on Wingate, too." Maywick looked from Keene to Smiley, nodding for their approval.

"I'm after his gems right now and the cash that somebody is bringing to buy them. I'm cutting my friends in

"Now that they are here," returned Planchini, "you say you're cutting them in. But it wasn't your idea. I

planted those questions and I phoned the tipoff tonight. I wanted your friends, as you call them, to meet

It all seemed out of character for Planchini, this business of being so strongly on the side of integrity. But it

Equally startling was the looping whip that The Shadow gave the rope. It licked over Maywick's wrist,

formed a knot there, and hauled the bearded man clear around, as The Shadow wheeled and snapped one end.

Maywick's gun went flying from his hand and he took a smacking, facefirst dive right after it.

Out of their respective stupors, Keene and Smiley remembered suddenly that they were Maywick's

accomplices, even though he had deceived them. They reached for revolvers, but they were too late. It didn't

even require The Shadow's draw to stop them. In from the hallway stepped two men: Harry Vincent and

On the way out, The Shadow, still masquerading as Planchini, met Slade Farrow and gestured to the

telephone book that lay on the table. Farrow opened it and found the final item needed, Planchini's wire

That device had picked up every word of Maywick's boastful confession. It was the evidence that would free

It didn't take The Shadow long to rid himself of the putty overlay and other items that would have enabled

any good makeup artist to duplicate the face that Planchini showed the public. The Hindu regalia was baggy

and fitted over Cranston's own attire, so he disposed of it as rapidly, this extra costume that Planchini had

Arriving in the lobby as Cranston, The Shadow was in time to see two wild men come breaking from the

Crystal Room, with a third behind them. The fugitives were Frost and Varno, their pursuer was the real

Big Jericho stopped them. The new doorman took Frost and Varno each by the back of the neck and carried

them into the Crystal Room, with Planchini wheezing alongside. They thought they were going to answer a

Cranston was already snapping his fingers before Bonnie's eyes, and the girl, resting stiffly in the arms of

men who held her upright, suddenly responded by coming to life with a puzzled gaze.

"A dangerous trick, Planchini," reproved Cranston. "You hypnotized this girl just before the show and gave

her a posthypnotic suggestion. She was to fall and play dead, the moment she heard the gun go off."

"I wanted to spoil Frost's act," he admitted. "After all, he was out to ruin mine."

Frost and Varno, unable to believe their luck, were staring at the wooden target as though that still disproved

"Another trick Planchini knew," Cranston told Frost and Varno, "but one that neither of you ever heard of. At

very close range, a wax bullet will pierce a board easier than a lead bullet will. That was why Planchini

coaxed the target right up to the gun muzzle. He knew Bonnie wouldn't be hurt; she was far enough away for

the wax to melt itself before it reached her. But it did a real bullet's job at the start of its trip."

Much was dawning on Bonnie Blye, but she hadn't begun to realize the surprise that still awaited. Lamont

Cranston provided for the sequel quite artfully, when he spoke to two attendants who were standing by.

"Show Miss Blye to her room," ordered Cranston. Then in an undertone that Bonnie didn't hear, he added:

Cranston himself followed to the door of the Crystal Room. He was alone there, when Bonnie, nearing the

elevator, thought she imagined that she heard a strange, parting message that somehow boded success as the

It wasn't imagination. Bonnie really heard it, the whispered laugh of The Shadow!