DEATH JEWELS...............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. CRIME'S WARNING.......................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. ODDS OFFSET...............................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. CHANCE MURDER ......................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. THE VANISHED WITNESS .......................................................................................11

CHAPTER V. THE NEEDED TRAIL ..................................................................................................15

CHAPTER VI. THE TRAIL CLOSES ..................................................................................................19

CHAPTER VII. AT THE BOATHOUSE.............................................................................................23

CHAPTER VIII. DEEDS IN THE DARK............................................................................................27

CHAPTER IX. BODY OVERBOARD .................................................................................................31

CHAPTER X. THE BARREN TRAIL ..................................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. CHOICE OF DEATH ...................................................................................................39

CHAPTER XII. SPIKED DOOM ..........................................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIII. CRIME'S BRAIN......................................................................................................46

CHAPTER XIV. THE DAYS BETWEEN...........................................................................................50

CHAPTER XV. CRIME COMES ANEW............................................................................................54

CHAPTER XVI. DUEL OF DARKNESS............................................................................................57

CHAPTER XVII. THE CROOKED HAVEN .......................................................................................61

CHAPTER XVIII. BOMBSHELLS BURST........................................................................................65

CHAPTER XIX. HALTED FLIGHT ....................................................................................................69

CHAPTER XX. MASTER OF RIGHT .................................................................................................72

It was midnight, and the Star Club was crowded with patrons, packed at the tables that were set around three

sides of the dance floor. A floor show was in progress; a line of chorus girls were doing a rhythmic dance, to

There wasn't a spare table in the place, for the Star Club, with its twodollar dinnerandfloor show, was the

Even with all its glitter, the club was merely an annoyance to Valencia Gaylor. She wasn't exactly bored, for

Valencia was an enthusiastic person on most occasions. But she couldn't see why Reggie Taunton had chosen

to bring her here, when so many other New York night clubs were quieter and less crowded.

The Star had become a place for outoftown visitors who came to New York on roundtrip tours that

included rail fare, hotel accommodations, and sightseeing trips. They thought they were seeing New Yorkers

who liked night life; instead, they were cooped up with a flock of other visiting delegates.

Valencia could observe that when she looked at the tables close by. She and Reggie seemed to be the only

persons who had ever seen a Manhattan floor show before. That thought made Valencia smile. At least they

Reggie was a handsome chap, with his sleek hair and wellformed features. He looked best from a fullface

view, for his profile showed a nose that was a trifle pointed, with a chin that wasn't quite strong enough.

He made up for these minor shortcomings by his attire. Reggie's tuxedo was faultless in its fit. His black bow

Valencia was a girl of real charm. Her light hair made a shimmer that matched the sparkle of her eyes. The

slight snubbiness of her nose was no detraction; it went with the winsome smile that so often adorned her

"You look swell, Val," commended Reggie as he looked in the girl's direction. "That evening gown is perfect!

His eyes had followed the girl's bare arms to her hands, that rested on the table. Except for a simple signet

ring, she wore no jewelry at all. Reggie's comment, however, brought a smile from Valencia.

"I wanted to wear my bracelets," she remarked, "and the emerald ring, as well. But with all those recent

Reggie agreed. Everyone knew that crime was rampant in Manhattan. The police were looking for

"fingermen" who spotted persons that flourished too much cash or displayed too many gems. The law had not

found those malefactors. Nor had the police rounded up the crime specialists who staged the robberies after

Crooks had cracked into large New York offices and pretentious residences. They had opened safes that

invariably contained large amounts of swag. Stolen property had remained untraced. The brain who

controlled this present crime ring, also had fences who knew how to unload the pilfered goods in secret.

"You're tired, Val." Reggie's smooth tone was sympathetic. "The floor show's finished. Suppose we leave."

Valencia took the suggestion eagerly. So apparently, in fact, that Reggie framed an apology.

"I didn't know this place would be so jammed," he declared. "It wasn't, the last time I was here; but that was

six months ago. Let's start, Val wait a minute, though. I need some cigarettes."

Reggie snapped his fingers toward a passing cigarette girl. Valencia recalled that he had bought a pack of

cigarettes only an hour before. She remembered that he had handed the same girl a folded fivedollar bill.

Probably Reggie had forgotten that he still had a pack in his pocket. Valencia decided it didn't matter.

THEY left the Star Club in a cab. Valencia was still adjusting her evening wrap when Reggie started a purry

tone that told her what was next. It was the same old story. He wanted her to announce their engagement.

Reggie was silent while the cab rolled northward. At the end of half a dozen blocks, he spoke ruefully:

"You care for me a lot, Val. What's the real trouble? Don't you feel that you can trust me?"

Reggie was correct in that statement. Valencia did find trouble in trusting people. That applied particularly to

There was something oily about him at times; he could become too smooth. Earnestness did not fit the

shrewd expression that so often flickered on his sallow face. To be fair to Reggie, though, he had never done

"I can't trust people," admitted the girl. "I've known too many disappointments. There is only one exception.

"That's odd, Val," rejoined Reggie. "I don't want to offend you, but the fact is, there are a lot of people who

"I know that, Reggie. He made his wealth by driving hard bargains. Many people have criticized his recent

"The law is the only existing standard, Reggie. So I can't find fault with Uncle Everett. I have found him

kindly and generous. My parents had no money when they died, but my uncle supplied me with more than

they could ever have given me. There is nothing I mean it, Reggie nothing that I would fail to do, if my

The cab stopped in front of a huge brownstone house, the residence of Everett Gaylor. It looked like a citadel,

with its heavyshuttered groundfloor windows. Beyond the house was a vacant space; Reggie pointed to it

"I'd think your uncle would keep the shutters open," he said, "since he bought those other houses and had

"They do, in the daytime," laughed Valencia. "They're only closed at night, Reggie. Particularly when Uncle

"Sometime tomorrow. After he finishes the merger of those Great Lakes shipping lines. You have my key,

Reggie obliged. He said goodnight to Valencia and handed her the key. The girl went inside, and was

closing the door when Reggie reached the cab. After that, all sounds were cut off, for the door was massive

VALENCIA locked the door with the same key that Reggie had used to open it. She went upstairs. In her

room, she laid the key on a dresser. She gave a sigh of relief at being home again, then added a smile.

Reggie really didn't have much cause for fault with her. Most girls would have been anything but cordial after

The girl turned off the large lights of the room. By the soft glow from the dresser lamp, she discarded her

evening gown, then her shoes and stockings. As she stepped into slippers, she picked up a dressing gown that

lay on a chair beside the bed. She didn't feel as tired as before, so she decided to stay up a while and read.

Attired in her dressing gown Valencia found a magazine and took a chair near the dresser. Reading was easy

by that light, for its glow was at her shoulder. The short story that she picked was one that engrossed her. It

Closing the magazine, Valencia reached to the dresser for a cigarette. As she drew one from the box, her eyes

were fixed on an object that lay beside it. It was the frontdoor key, which she herself had laid upon the

The key was a specially made one, for the frontdoor lock was the last word in burglarproof protection.

Valencia had never seen another key that looked like it; that was why she remembered her own key so well.

This wasn't her key at all. The one she always carried was dull, with a slightly brassy color. This key was of

For a moment, Valencia thought that it must be a key that one of the servants had left here; but that did not

solve the problem. This was certainly a key to the front door, and there were only two like it her own, and

Valencia started to put down the cigarette in order to pick up the key. On the dresser were some folded bills

that she had taken from her purse. Bills, cigarette, key they linked with a sudden inspiration. Valencia

REGGIE had known that she would give him her key, as she always did. When he bought that first pack of

cigarettes, he had folded the key inside his fivedollar bill. Not this key, but the original one.

The cigarette girl had worked with Reggie. She had sent the key out to have a duplicate made. That was why

In the cab, Reggie had opened in his pocket the cigarette pack. He had held one key ready, had kept the other

for himself. That was where Reggie's scheme had slipped. He'd expected the duplicate to match the original;

he didn't think it mattered which one he gave to Valencia. As chance had it, she had received the new key.

Reggie Taunton was in league with the slick band of crooks who were staging those smooth robberies. With

the key to this house in their possession, the criminals would attempt an entry here.

That thought was enough for Valencia. The mirror of the dressing table showed the prompt thrust of her

determined chin. She opened a dresser drawer, found a pearlhandled .22 revolver that her uncle had given

her in case of an emergency like this. Turning out the little lamp, Valencia stole to the hall.

It was very dark all through the house. The highbuilt hallways were the sort that carried echoes. Tiptoeing to

the head of the long stairway, Valencia paused there. She had noted often that sounds from the lower floor

could be heard at the top of the stairway, for it came to a narrow point, like the small end of a megaphone.

There was stillness below, but Valencia expected it to end. After longdrawn minutes, the break came. There

was a trifling click that meant the door lock. Next, the slight creak of the door itself. Finally, the muffled

Guarded footsteps moved in the hall below. They passed the bottom of the stairway, faded in a hallway

toward a side door. While Valencia wondered why they had taken that direction, the footsteps returned. They

Valencia's fingers tightened on the gun. The intruder had entered her uncle's study. That was where Everett

Gaylor had his big safe. Valencia's jewels were in it, but the few thousand dollars that they represented were

small change. Gaylor, always ready for deals involving cash transactions, invariably kept large sums of

If the lone cracksman could complete his task, the burglary would net at least a hundred thousand dollars;

perhaps double that sum. He had solved the difficulty of the locked front door and probably expected to open

Only one factor could thwart the lurking crook. That was Valencia Gaylor if she had the courage. To those

COOLLY, Valencia considered the best way to handle the burglar problem. The right answer was to work

alone. There were servants in the house, but they were all asleep. They occupied remote rooms on the third

floor, and it would take too long to arouse them. Moreover, Valencia felt sure that they would blunder, if

Alone, she could outmatch the downstairs intruder at his own game of stealth. She remembered the sounds of

his footsteps. To avoid the same mistake, Valencia removed her slippers. Her bare feet were absolutely

At the bottom, Valencia placed the slippers where she could regain them. She approached the study door. At

first, she saw it as a solid barrier; then, from a new angle, she observed a crack of light beside it. The burglar

Valencia pushed the door three inches inward. That gave her all the view she needed. She saw the light of an

electric lantern set on a chair beside the safe. Its glare revealed the dials, also the man who was working at

He was clad in rough, dark clothes, and was wearing a dark handkerchief for a mask. He was using gloves as

Totally unaware that Valencia was watching him, the burglar proceeded with his task. Valencia had heard of

safecrackers with sensitive fingers who could literally feel the fall of tumblers through steel; but that wasn't

this crook's method. He went at the combination as if he knew it, up to a final point. There, he paused,

calculated as he turned the dials slowly. He tried the knob. The safe failed to open.

It was plain that the burglar had somehow learned a portion of the actual combination, probably all of it, up to

the last twist. For with his failure, he started over again and went through the same process. By that system,

he would eventually get the full combination, for he had reduced the task to a limited number of possibilities.

Another failure. This time, the masked man showed impatience. He spun the dials, then removed his gloves,

to rub his hands together. The mask bothered him; he pulled it from his head and stuffed it in his pocket. As

VALENCIA lowered the gun. Her lip, compressed. She had not figured that Reggie had done more than

supply the front door key. She knew what would happen if she stepped in and trapped him. Reggie would

whine pleas that would be difficult to resist. Once Valencia turned him over to the police, there would be an

Plenty of persons that she knew would wonder why she had not given Reggie another chance. Perhaps she

would ask herself that question. She didn't like the prospect. At the same time, her own integrity, plus her

loyalty to her uncle, demanded that she expose Reggie as the crook that he had proved himself.

Reggie was at the dials again, and he was doing badly with them. His fumbles were making him begin again.

Reggie never had been able to show patience when it was needed. That gave Valencia a prompt inspiration.

There was a way to handle this case easily; that was to call the police. In reading reports of previous

robberies, she had learned that officers had been on hand five minutes after crimes were reported.

The telephone was in the hall by the side door. It would be easy to make the telephone call without Reggie

hearing it. She had that duplicate key with her, she could unlock the front door before the police arrived, if

Reggie hadn't left it open. Valencia smiled to herself as she tiptoed back toward the stairs.

It was easy simply a report that she suspected a burglar in the house. The police would capture Reggie. She

would recognize him afterward. The case would be out of her hands, once the law trapped the culprit in the

Valencia picked up the slippers on the way. At the telephone table she slipped them on, because the hall was

drafty. The slight breeze puzzled her, until she remembered the side door. Putting down the telephone,

Valencia stole in that direction, finding as she went that her skippers were almost silent.

The side door was usually bolted from the inside. Valencia found it open. She remembered the trip that

Reggie had made to the door. Probably he had opened it to have a second route for hurried escape. Valencia

closed the door, letting the latch click carefully. She went back to the telephone.

This time, it was a noise a faint echo of the latching sound that the side door had given. Straining, Valencia

waited. She felt another touch of breeze against her ankles. Someone had heard her shut that door, and had

VALENCIA was too intent in one direction to hear a second sound that came from another. Again, the sound

The girl guessed the truth. Reggie wasn't alone on this expedition. He had posted some helper on guard

outside the side door. Since Reggie had come alone, Valencia supposed that he would have a single aid.

There was a light switch in the front hall. Valencia headed for it, not caring if she made a slight noise. That

would lure the watcher into the house; it might bring Reggie from the study. But neither could locate her in

She reached the light switch, waited tensely while she heard a vague creep that had a slow approach. Back

Valencia faced odds that she had never expected. It wasn't one watcher who had entered. There were six!

Three had closed in from the side door; another trio had used the front entrance. Stealthily, they had formed a

They were rough clad, masked, like Reggie. But these huskies were no silkhat crooks. They were a trigger

squad; they showed it by the way they handled their bristling revolvers. Hard lips leered beneath

The three from the side door had reached a spot beside the stairs. The front squad was edging closer to

Valencia. All seemed contemptuous of the girl's revolver. One thug acted as spokesman for the lot. From near

"A smart dame, huh?" Those lips were ugly. "Listen, babe, you better drop that peashooter, if you don't

Valencia did not stir. Her gun was aimed straight for the spokesman. He took it that she was scared.

He took a long step closer, jabbed his big revolver up beneath Valencia's nose, as though mocking its stubby

tilt. He stopped the gun short, aimed squarely between the girl's eyes. With a side squint toward his pals, he

There was a quick flash from Valencia's gun. She could not have stopped her trigger finger if she had wished.

The last insult was enough. She would show these yeggs who was yellow. That color was theirs!

They displayed it for the moment when they saw their spokesman wilt. His ugly lips had soured. His gun had

Seconds must have passed while Valencia stood there bravely, darting her gaze from mobster to mobster, to

IN his haste, Reggie had forgotten his mask. He met the gleam of Valencia's eyes, realized that she had

"Grab the girl!" voiced Reggie. "Don't let her fire again! We've got to take her with us!"

Valencia sprang for the stairway, not through fright, but because she saw safety there. She could ward off the

crooks from that vantage point, while she retreated upward. Reggie started another frantic order. It was

interrupted by a harsh cough from the floor. The wounded spokesman was trying to rise with his gun.

The command suited the hardened crew. They wheeled; in another second, bullets would have burned for

Valencia despite Reggie's ardent protest. Only other intervention could save the girl, and it needed to be of

A fierce, compelling laugh broke from the short hallway near the side door. With that chilling mockery came

the burst of an automatic. A sizzling slug dipped the gun hand of the thug who was leading the others in the

That mirth, that wellplaced bullet, were all that the crooks needed to know their adversary.

They wheeled to seek a new target, tugging their triggers as they swung. The crook with the crippled gun arm

couldn't join them, but the man that Valencia had wounded was acting in his stead. That challenge was the

sort that could bring a mobster back from the edge of death, to fire a last vicious round.

The whole tribe saw the arrival who had challenged them a figure in black. His cloaked shoulders, the

His form was plain enough, though, for them to know that they had guessed his real identity. They could see

the burn of avenging eyes beneath the slouch hat brim. He was the master that all gangland feared.

Amid the roar of those first wild shots came snarls from the crooks who fired them. Unmasked lips were

LIKE Valencia, The Shadow had met heavy odds by making the first thrust; but where the girl had later been

at loss, The Shadow had the needed method. His cause, however, was far more difficult. More than his own

The one way was to draw the fire of crooks until the girl had reached the stairs. To accomplish it, The

Shadow wheeled away, firing a wide shot as he retreated into deeper darkness. That missed fire was the

They thought they had their cloaked foe on the run. They piled in his direction, firing as they came. This

time, their aim was better. They couldn't see The Shadow, for his fadeout had been a swift one. But they

Their target was the side door, the only route by which The Shadow could escape. Bullets ripped the

woodwork of the door, but found no human mark. Sweeping suddenly from beside the telephone table, came

He was hurtling straight into a mass of marksmen, his automatic spurting ahead of him.

Gunmen dived. Of the four, two ended with a sprawl. Instead of halting, The Shadow drove straight through.

The crook with the cracked wrist sprang across to stop him, aiming his revolver with his left hand. The

His automatic emptied, The Shadow used it as a cudgel. His swift sidestroke bludgeoned the aiming thug's

skull. While the fellow flattened, senseless, The Shadow performed a complete whirl that carried him to a

side room, straight across from Gaylor's study. As he reached that safety spot, his left hand whipped a fresh

FROM his new position, he could see across the big front hallway. The slugged crook lay halfway to the

stairs, where Valencia was safely crouched upon the bottom step. The tiny .22 was still clenched tightly in her

The thug dropped by Valencia had lost his venom. The effects of her closerange shot had finally subdued

Beside the stairs lay another pair: the rogues that The Shadow had eliminated in his drive. They, too, were out

of battle. The only gunmen who still had fangs were the pair that he had passed. They were near the side

door, in the gloom that had formerly shrouded The Shadow. They were too scared either to advance or try to

The Shadow knew their hope. He had trailed this mob from the underworld; he had counted noses on the

way. There was another pair of gunners who had remained out front, in darkness on the other side of the

In that case so they thought it would be possible to attack The Shadow from two directions. They never

guessed that he was preparing for that very situation. The Shadow was reloading his first automatic while he

Moreover, The Shadow was depending upon Valencia. The girl saw his nudge toward the front door, and

nodded. Her gun was trained in that direction. The Shadow recognized her grit; knew that she could take out

one man while he handled the other. Alone, The Shadow could easily handle the pair from the side hall,

All that would happen, if the thrust came at all. The Shadow doubted that it would occur. He believed that the

outside crooks would stage a runout, when their pals failed to come from the house.

In this maze of situations, one point had eluded The Shadow. That was Reggie's presence. Reggie had been

here before The Shadow arrived. He was out of sight, from The Shadow's angle, when battle began. He had

promptly chosen a cute course of his own. He had ducked back into the study, and had slammed the door.

Valencia knew it, but gave no sign to The Shadow. She pictured Reggie as cowering with fright. He was as

crooked as the rats that The Shadow had so neatly handled; but Reggie wasn't in the killer class. Valencia

BRIEF minutes passed. The gunmen in the side hall were stirring restlessly. The Shadow heard their motions;

he edged toward the doorway. It was time to take that pair in hand. He gave one last glance toward the front

The knob of the front door was turning slowly. The door itself edged slowly inward, stopped, then swung

wide. The Shadow had his automatics at an angle one covering the front door, the other the side hall.

Then came a surprise for every witness, The Shadow included. The man who stepped into the hallway wasn't

masked. Nor was he a mobster at all. His timid face showed eyes that stared half terrified through

It was Valencia who recognized the man as her uncle's secretary. Instantly, the girl called out:

The Shadow was in action. Out from the side room, he was springing toward the front door to warn the man

In his swift sweep, he flourished one gun at the crooks in the side hall, to hold them cowed. He hoped that

Bevlin, startled by the sight of an unknown being in black, would have sense enough to make a dive. Instead,

That was Bevlin's death warrant. He was where The Shadow could not save him in the moments that

Revolvers barked outside the house. The mobsters across the street had spotted Bevlin in the light of the

hallway. They knew there had been trouble inside the house, and Bevlin wasn't one of their own ilk.

Bevlin took the jolt of bullets and sagged forward. An instant later, The Shadow was springing past the

secretary's slumping body. He halted only for an instant as he reached the outside step, while he jabbed quick

shots into the dark. Then The Shadow leaped sidewards to the sidewalk, to draw the fire of the crooks across

REVOLVERS spat anew; this time, their shots were futile. The Shadow was not the simple target that Bevlin

had been. Bullets flattened against the brownstone wall beside him. His return shots, with gun spurts as the

Again The Shadow did the unexpected, with double purpose. He sprang back for the steps that he had left.

The thugs on the other sidewalk had to change their aim, for they were fooled by that reverse move. So were

They were starting forward, when they saw The Shadow suddenly reappear. They turned about, made out

through the side door. The Shadow knew where they would head next. Their only route was out to the front

Bevlin had staggered clear of the threshold. With a quick yank, The Shadow pulled the front door shut. He

was diving forward down the steps, when bullets sizzled past his ear, to stop in the thick door. Again The

Crisscrossing the street, he drove four mobsters ahead of him. The two on the other side were taking it on the

run. So were the pair who had dashed from the side door. Their hasty shots were useless against The Shadow.

One crook toppled, then another. The others paused no longer. They were streaking far up the street, to

escape the cloaked avenger whose immunity to gunfire was as uncanny as his own amazing marksmanship.

Though thugs didn't guess it, The Shadow was driving them into the hands of the law; at the same time, he

was cutting off their return to Gaylor's house. That was his protection for Valencia upon whom The Shadow

He expected that the girl would soon be giving a full account of the thwarted robbery. He wanted her to be

Unfortunately, there was another person who had the opposite desire. Chance had given that troublemaker

an advantage that The Shadow no longer possessed. The man who favored crime was still within the walls of

VALENCIA had forgotten everyone but Bevlin. The moment that the slam of the front door insured her

He had gone with Valencia's uncle to Cleveland. For some reason, Gaylor had sent him back, to New York.

Valencia saw the proof of that: her uncle's own door key was in Bevlin's loosened fist.

The secretary's arrival at the house had been illtimed. He had stepped in as an unexpected factor, to become

Valencia's one hope was that Bevlin still had life. Leaning above his body, she spoke frantically as she raised

his head in her hands. Bevlin's face was drawn. His lips were bloodflecked, and his eyes showed glazed

When Valencia released his head, it didn't settle easily. His neck yielded; there was a thud as his head

The treads were the ones that Valencia had heard earlier. This time, her concern for Bevlin caused them to

escape her notice. She didn't recognize an approach until there was a deephissed breath beside her.

The girl sprang up from the floor; she grabbed for the pocket of her dressing gown, where she had put the

Her action was too slow. Hands clamped her wrists, drew her about, so an arm could get a grip. Valencia was

staring into the eyes of Reggie Taunton. She recognized them over the folds of the handkerchief mask that he

Valencia battled gamely, but her strength was not enough. Reggie was more powerful than his usual lazy

manner indicated. He pinned the girl's arms behind her as he dragged her across the hall. He reached the light

That was just in time. There was a scurry from above. Servants had come from the third floor to the second.

They were holding a frightened discussion above the stairs. Valencia tried to scream a warning to them, but

Shifting his hands, he smothered her mouth with his left. As Valencia wrenched free, he jostled her against

the wall. He drove his right fist for a spot below his left. There was a solid thwack as his knuckles met

REGGIE bundled Valencia over his shoulder. Drawing a revolver of his own, he made for the stairs, snarling

a warning as he came. The servants heard it; they shouted hoarse defiance. Reggie fired two shots up the

On the darkened second floor; Reggie could hear the approaching wail of police car sirens, mostly from the

front street. There was still a route of escape, if he could make it. That was through a little rear room with a

Plopping Valencia beside the window, Reggie yanked the sash, then rolled the girl through to the roof. A

Reggie pounced back to the hallway, to see two servants shakily aiming guns. They spotted his masked face,

but did not recognize it. From his attire, they would never have guessed that he was Reggie Taunton. Nor did

he give them time to think about it. Reggie repeated the quick fire that he had used on the stairs. Again, the

Back through the little room, out through the window, Valencia was rising from the roof, shaking her head to

gather her scattered senses. Reggie seized her. The girl struggled. They went over the roof edge together.

The fall was a short one. They landed in a flower bed beside a low wall that separated Gaylor's grounds from

the vacant lot beside it. Reggie was unhurt; Valencia was still somewhat jarred by the punch that he had

given her. Bundling his prisoner across his shoulder, Reggie made for the rear street.

By all laws of averages, he should have run into immediate trouble, for police cars were almost on the scene.

There was a taxi standing in the rear street; its driver was craning from the wheel, listening to the siren of the

police cars. The cabby had just turned into this street. He was trying to locate the source of the trouble.

Reggie yanked the cab door open, flung Valencia into the rear seat. As the driver turned, startled, Reggie

came through the door himself. He clapped one hand over Valencia's mouth; with the other, he poked his

The cab started off, its driver ignorant of the fact that the masked criminal had a girl with him as a prisoner.

THAT taxi had not reached the end of the block when another wheeled into the same street. Its driver was a

peakfaced fellow, but his eyes had a keen gleam. He was Moe Shrevnitz, the speediest hackie in Manhattan.

The cab that he drove belonged to The Shadow and its owner was in the back seat.

The Shadow had contacted the cab on another street, had ordered Moe to skirt the block where Gaylor's

They had passed the front door too late to hear Reggie's shots, but The Shadow had spotted the two servants

hurrying out to call the police. He had ordered Moe to double around by the next street, just to make sure that

Moe sighted the taillight of the cab that Reggie had taken. So did The Shadow and he saw something else.

At a quicktoned command from the rear, Moe jammed the taxi's brakes. The Shadow sprang to the

sidewalk, scooped up an object that lay on the curb. In his gloved hand lay one of Valencia's red slippers.

Keeping that clue, The Shadow sprang back into the cab, ordered Moe to chase the taxi ahead.

By rights, that pursuit should have spelled the end of Reggie's flight. The Shadow had used his cab on many

occasions of this sort. No matter how frantically the other cabby drove, Moe could overhaul him. The

Instead, there was intervention, for which The Shadow himself was largely responsible.

Reggie's cab wheeled the corner, giving The Shadow a good look at it. The cab was an independent one;

there were very few of its type in New York. That was to prove more important than The Shadow supposed.

When The Shadow's cab reached the same corner, whistles blared. Moe veered; The Shadow saw policemen

The cops on the sidewalk were the ones who had captured the two masked crooks that The Shadow had

driven in their direction. They had spotted Reggie's face, thrust from a window of the fleeing cab. His mask

Unfortunately, sight of that cab made them think that others would be carrying away mobsters. As they

shouted to the patrol car, they pointed to The Shadow's taxi. Five seconds later, Moe was still on Reggie's

trail; but the police car was close behind. Revolvers spoke, their bark a warning for Moe to stop.

The Shadow gave a whispered order. Moe applied the brakes, then gave the gas. The speedy cab performed a

crazy zigzag. Officers were pumping shots, but they couldn't get the range. For a full block, Moe gave an

AS THE police car bore down upon him, Moe shot the cab into a sharp turn. It swung roundabout and there

was a jab of the brakes, a hard twist in the opposite direction. As a stretching policeman clicked the empty

chambers of a revolver, Moe roared away along a side street, against the oneway traffic.

A car was coming from the opposite direction. Moe snaked between it and the curb, with less space on each

side than a cat's whiskers. That put him in the clear, and the police car didn't follow. It had overrun the

crossing. The cops were smart enough to change their quarry. They went after Reggie's cab.

Overtaking Reggie was a different story. His cab had widened its distance. The cab swerved from the avenue,

took to side streets, where it weaved a tricky course. The police car managed to hang onto the trail a while,

Moe had rounded a block at The Shadow's order and had managed to tag the patrol car. Unknown to the

police, the cab that they first chased was using them as guide in this new pursuit.

The police car reached a corner. Its occupants couldn't guess which direction to go, for Reggie's cab had

disappeared. Rather than delay, they took to the left. The Shadow saw their brief hesitation. When his cab

At the next block, a cab whizzed across their path. The corner was well lighted. The Shadow recognized the

cab he wanted, but he saw also that it was empty. He spotted the license number as it went by.

The cab was speeding to the right; The Shadow ordered Moe to the left. They came into a street that ended

Alighting, The Shadow found a narrow space between two buildings on the left. He hurried through. As he

peered along the street, he spied a car that was fading three blocks northward. It was too distant to identify its

Pursuit was impossible. That car would pick up six blocks more before Moe could take the long way around,

The Shadow returned to the cab; he voiced a different order. The taxi rolled away from the blind street.

ONE hour later, Moe Shrevnitz stopped at a tawdry rooming house. When he rang the bell, a sleepy woman

answered. She was angry because of this late visitor; but Moe's taxidriver's hat served as a passport, when

"He's in the back; room on the second floor," said the woman. "I'll leave the front door unlocked so you can

Moe went upstairs. The front door opened while he was on the way. A silent, shrouded shape followed. The

Shadow was close at hand when Moe knocked at the door in the back hall. There was an interval. Moe

The door ripped open; a wildeyed man stared out. He was in shirt sleeves his fists clenched.

"Hello, hackie!" Moe's greeting was affable. "Don't get worried. I'm here to square things for you."

Reggie's hackie admitted Moe, who left the door ajar. The Shadow looked in on the conference between the

cabbies. He heard Moe give lowvoiced encouragement that he had seen the police car on the other cab's

"I figured some gorilla had a gun on your neck," concluded Moe. "I took a drive like that, once. I know what

"I don't think so," he declared. "When we got up against the bridge, he told me to sit there, look straight

ahead and count fifty. That's what I did, too. I didn't hurry it, neither. He was out by the time I got to twenty.

Moe clapped the cabby on the shoulder, told him he'd better report it to the police. If they didn't believe the

As The Shadow rode toward Times Square, his lips phrased a grim, lowwhispered laugh. Evidence showed

that Valencia Gaylor had been carried away a prisoner. Her testimony, for some reason, had a value that

That lost testimony must certainly apply to the man who had abducted her, the crook who had remained on

Gaylor's premises without The Shadow's knowledge and unknown to him. It was better, for the present, that

The girl would be safe, as long as no one missed her. If a hunt began, her murder might result. Meanwhile,

If his campaign succeeded, The Shadow could gain the lost testimony that would lead to the mastermind of

EVERETT GAYLOR arrived home the next morning, after a dawn flight by plane from Cleveland. A barrier

of reporters and camera men awaited him in front of the brownstone house. They recognized the

Tall, gaunt, with grizzled hair like a mop above his dryish features, Gaylor was easily identified. His long

arms shoved aside the reporters who tried to intercept him. He shouted angrily for police to drag off the

Two grinning officers flanked Gaylor and convoyed him up the steps. In ruffled fashion, the gauntfaced

Visitors awaited him. One was a brisk, militarytype of man whose full face showed a shortclipped

With Weston was a stocky man, darkeyed and swarthy. That chap had a perfect poker face. It showed no

flicker of expression when its owner shook hands with Gaylor. This visitor was Inspector Joe Cardona, ace

Before Gaylor could ask questions, Weston gave a brief summary of matters as the law knew them.

There had been a deluge of gunfire in this house last night. It had aroused the servants; coming downstairs,

they had found Bevlin's body near the unlocked door, the key still in the secretary's hand. But there had been

Crooks were sprawled everywhere; others had been captured by the police. Only one, apparently, had

escaped. He had cut his way through the servants, to flee in a cab. The driver of that taxi had shown up at a

"As we analyze it," concluded Weston, "the thugs were lurking outside, awaiting Bevlin's arrival. He must

Gaylor objected that Bevlin could not have performed such carnage against his attackers. Weston had a

definite explanation that covered the problem. As the commissioner put it, enemies of the invading crooks

Actually, the commissioner was thinking of The Shadow. He and Cardona had decided that the darkcloaked

fighter must have been responsible for the repelled invasion. No one, though, had seen him, except possibly

"Poor Bevlin!" Gaylor's tone was a deep rumble. "I sent him back here merely because he was no longer

needed in Cleveland. I suppose those rogues were watching here every night. If I had come, instead of

"That's what we expected you to ask," expressed Weston, anxiously. "We feel positive that she did not come

in last night. If she had, the criminals would have attacked at that time, instead of waiting for Bevlin."

BEFORE Weston could make a guess, there was an interruption. A tall figure strode into the study. Weston

recognized his friend, Kent Allard. The commissioner's greatest urge was to make the acquaintance of

celebrities; and Allard came within that class. He was the famous aviator whose forced landing in the

Weston had met Allard after his return to New York. Their friendship had become a strong one. Allard was

welcome to join the police commissioner on any occasion. Weston had never guessed the reason why Allard

The commissioner would have been amazed to learn that the aviator's long stay in Guatemala was a myth.

Allard had been in New York most of those years, taming crooks with bullets, instead of humoring Indians by

Behind Allard was a headquarters detective, big and brawny, struggling with a wiry young man who was

trying to shake loose from him. Weston recognized Clyde Burke, a reporter from the New York Classic. The

Commissioner told the detective to turn the reporter loose. Then, crisply, Weston announced:

"My instructions, Burke, were that no reporters should interview Mr. Gaylor until I have talked with him."

"You didn't say anything about him," declared the reporter. "When Mr. Allard showed up, I thought maybe

"Allard knows nothing about this case," returned Weston; "He merely called here to see me."

Unruffled, Clyde sat down in a chair. It was Cardona who plucked the reporter's collar, and growled:

"Goodby, newssnatcher! Outside with the rest of your playmates. The sidewalk's big. If you need

"Have a heart, Joe!" pleaded Clyde. "You know what that bunch will do to me. They're sore enough because I

slid in here. If I come out, they'll think I've got a scoop. They'll mob me, sure. You'll have a riot to bother

Allard was smiling slightly as he spoke quiet words to Weston. The commissioner's scowl faded into a smile

"You can stay here, Burke," he announced. "We'll take you at your word. We won't let you call your office,

Clyde waved his thanks to Allard. Weston reverted to the subject under discussion. He asked Gaylor to give

the names of persons who might know where Valencia was. Gaylor promptly named Reggie Taunton as the

Cardona called Reggie's apartment from a telephone in the study. He learned that Reggie was still asleep. Joe

left word for him to be awakened, with instructions that he come directly to Gaylor's. To make sure that

Reggie followed orders, Cardona detailed a couple of detectives to go to the young man's apartment.

"Meanwhile," suggested Weston to Gaylor, "you can open the safe and make sure that all your valuables are

ALLARD'S eyes were watching Gaylor. The magnate began his operations openly; but as he went further

with the combination he shifted closer, so that his shoulders obscured the last few turns.

The safe came open; Gaylor breathed satisfaction as he counted packages of bonds and currency. He

unlocked a box that contained Valencia's jewels, nodded that they all were there.

"Would you object," questioned Weston, "to telling me the approximate total of the safe's contents?"

Gaylor paused. He rubbed his chin a few moments, then gave an answer that staggered the police

"No one could have known it, commissioner," said the merger magnate. "Not even Bevlin. It is possible,

though, that many persons have learned that I sometimes keep large sums in this safe."

"Because I close many important deals at night. Often I have brought business men from their hotels, here to

this house. I have seen many times when one of these" Gaylor picked up a pack of hundreddollar bills

"can persuade a man to sign over the holdings that I need for an important merger."

Weston was impressed. He had heard much of Gaylor's fame as a bargainer; he was beginning to see proof of

it. There was something else, though, that the commissioner was soon to learn. A detective arrived with the

The detective nodded. Gaylor requested that Merlock be admitted. By that time, Weston had recalled the

Latham Merlock was a financier who had retired at middle age, on the ground that presentday conditions

were too troublesome to fight. He had given an interview a few years ago, in which he stated that he intended

to nurse his investments and let others worry about improving them. He had advised all sane men of wealth to

Merlock's policy had evidently stood the test, in his own case. He had enjoyed life since his retirement; had

He was reported to have made large sums from his chosen hobby, along with the returns from his

investments. Merlock had gone in for philanthropic activities, for some of his increasing surplus had been

donated to hospitals and charitable institutions. In fact, Latham Merlock rated highly as a citizen, and his

He was a mildmannered man, a bit portly, and with a roundish, jovial face. His features were pudgy beneath

his thin crop of lightbrown hair. There was an anxious look, though, in his small, bluish eyes.

"I'VE heard about the robbery, Gaylor," spoke Merlock, in a quick, choppy tone. "I trust that my money "

Merlock; looked relieved. Gaylor repressed a slight trace of annoyance, then turned to Weston.

"Some of the money" Gaylor gestured toward the safe "belonged to Mr. Merlock. It was advance

payment for stock in the new company that I intended to form, by the merger of three Great Lakes freight

"I furnished fifty thousand dollars," explained Merlock. "Similar amounts were supplied also by several other

"By a few others," corrected Gaylor. "I had opportunity, however, to place their funds in a bank."

Weston gathered immediately that if Gaylor had been robbed, Merlock and perhaps others would have

suffered. That didn't seem to matter, since the robbery had been thwarted. To The Shadow, however, the

Though Allard's eyes did not show it, they were studying Merlock and Gaylor. One had referred to "several"

persons; the other had mentioned a "few." If Merlock happened to be right, it might be that very little of the

money in the safe belonged to Gaylor. Perhaps Gaylor had some reason for keeping that unknown.

There was no more time to speculate on the subject, for the present. A new visitor had entered: Reggie

The young man was fastidiously attired. He was sleek, easy of poise. Enough so to favorably impress Weston

but not Allard. Reggie shook hands with Gaylor, congratulated the gaunt man on the fact that robbery had

"The detectives told me about it on the way over," remarked Reggie as he drew out a corktipped cigarette.

"It's about Valencia," returned Gaylor. "She hasn't been heard from, Reggie. Do you know where she is?"

"Of course!" Reggie didn't show a flicker of nervousness. "She went to visit the Hales up at their lodge in the

"I should be. Val and I had dinner together. I saw her off at eight o'clock, over at the Lackawanna depot, in

The surety of Reggie's tone convinced every listener except Kent Allard. To The Shadow, the statement

proved that the sleek young man was mixed in crime. The Shadow, himself, had met Valencia in this house

last night. There was no reason why she should have returned to New York, if she had started a train trip to

The Shadow had come to Gaylor's this morning, in hope of finding a clue to Valencia's present whereabouts.

NEWS of Valencia's supposed trip to the Poconos seemed to please Everett Gaylor immensely. He thanked

Reggie for the information, then decided that he would like to talk to Valencia herself. He reached for the

"It's no use, Mr. Gaylor," purred the young man. "You can't get Val by long distance. There's no telephone at

the Hale lodge. You'll probably hear from her soon, after she has seen the newspapers."

By the time Gaylor had drawn his hand from the telephone, there was one person less in the room. Kent

Allard had stepped out to the hallway, unnoticed. He went past the stairs, reached the telephone in the side

The detective was satisfied that Allard's call was an official one. He watched Allard dial a number, but,

oddly, he didn't hear a word uttered by the commissioner's friend. Allard had a way of speaking so close to

Allard was back in the study, his brief absence unnoticed, when there was a ring from the phone bell beside

Gaylor's desk. The merger magnate answered the call, then held the telephone while he looked at Weston.

"Not my fault, commissioner. Some of those dubs outside probably called the Classic, to find out if I'd

phoned in a story. The boys are smart down at my office. They've guessed I've gotten in here."

"Talk to them then," snapped Weston. "But remember, Burke, not a word yet about what you've heard."

Clyde took the telephone, to receive a real surprise. The voice across the wire wasn't the blustering tone of

the city editor at the Classic desk. It was a quiet, methodical speaker, whom Clyde recognized as Burbank,

"Instructions," spoke Burbank. "Arrange immediate departure. Follow Reggie Taunton. Make frequent

"Haven't got the whole story yet, boss... Sure, I'll hurry it... Don't worry. I'll catch the edition..."

"I've played ball, commissioner," he declared. "What about letting those other reporters in here? Then I can

Weston agreed. He sent out word to admit the reporters, but to keep them under control. Camera men were to

ALLARD'S eyes gave an approving gleam toward Clyde, but the reporter didn't catch it. Clyde had used

good judgment, as The Shadow had expected. At the same time, Clyde was deeply puzzled.

He couldn't figure how The Shadow had heard about Reggie. At last, he decided that his chief must have

been outside the house when Reggie arrived. The Shadow had an uncanny way of bobbing up anywhere. It

never occurred to Clyde that The Shadow was in this very room; that he had secretly put in a call to Burbank

over Gaylor's own wire. None of The Shadow's agents had ever identified their mysterious chief with Kent

That was good policy on The Shadow's part, as Clyde had learned in the past, and was soon to realize again.

Clyde waited until the surge of reporters arrived. As soon as they were sure he hadn't scooped them, Clyde

sidled out. He was just in time, for Reggie Taunton was making a polite departure.

Hurrying to the street, Clyde reached a corner store and dived into a phone booth. He slammed his story to

Photographers had stopped Reggie; he had obligingly let them take some shots. Clyde arrived when Reggie

was boarding a cab, heard the address that the young man gave. Clyde found another taxi and named the

The Shadow had been forced to stay at Gaylor's, to properly explain his arrival. He stayed there until Weston

left. On the way out, he invited the commissioner for a ride in his speed plane. Weston politely declined.

Allard had a reputation as a stunt flyer, and Weston was wary of taking the air with him.

They rode together to the commissioner's office. On the way, Weston summed up the Gaylor case.

"It's that same crowd," asserted the commissioner. "The whole thing bears their earmarks. Informants learned

of the funds at Gaylor's. Someone was to crack that safe, while a lot of gunmen covered the job.

"They made a botch of it; and if we can ever catch up with the ringleaders, we'll make it hot for them.

Bevlin's death was unfortunate, but it's given us a murder charge against the men concerned. Our trouble,

though, is to capture persons who can give us evidence. Those thugs we took last night are mere hirelings.

Weston thought that he was giving Allard pointers. His selfimportance would have faded, had he guessed

that his friend could have named a real informant. There were important reasons, however, why The Shadow

THAT spot was a hidden room, buried somewhere in Manhattan. Its location changed at intervals

sometimes to suit The Shadow's own convenience, on other occasions because crooks guessed the

whereabouts of the secret headquarters. Once a shrewd criminal had ferreted his way to the sanctum and

produced a mass attack there. (Note: See "Crime Insured", Vol. XXII, No. 3, of the Shadow Magazine.)

Since then, the underworld had known that the sanctum was no myth; but they had worked in vain to uncover

It was always dark in the sanctum, for the black walls were windowless. When The Shadow came there, he

turned on a blue light over his desk. While he analyzed crime, his long fingers were invariably busy, inking

That name was sufficient for the present. Reggie wasn't the brain behind big crime. He lacked the caliber. But

he had played a most important part in the schemes of a supercrook. Without a doubt, Reggie had been a

Reggie's friendship with Valencia had enabled him to learn much about the Gaylor household, its methods of

protection, including the safe combination or, rather, part of it. He had covered his dirty work so well that

The Shadow deduced that from existing facts. Reggie was the oily sort who would build a lie upon a fabric of

truth. He had said that he had seen Valencia as late as eight o'clock the evening before. That was to cover his

When The Shadow had entered Gaylor's, mobsters had been ready to murder Valencia. There had been a

shout, though, to grab her. The Shadow had supposed that one of the mob had given it, for he had not seen

Reggie. Recollection of the scene caused The Shadow to remember that the study door had been out of sight.

The study was the logical place where an extra man could have hidden. With equal logic, The Shadow picked

Why, in flight, had the last crook bothered with Valencia at all? The girl could have told no more than the

servants, if the robbery had simply been a massed drive by unidentified criminals. There was the chance that

Valencia had started another of her game struggles, but that could have best been handled by killing her

Even a cool crook would not have hesitated at murder, with Bevlin already dead. That was enough to send all

the crew to the electric chair. Yet, despite the difficulty of his own getaway, the man from the study had

carried Valencia with him. That proved that he had some personal interest in the girl's welfare.

Knowing Reggie for a criminal, The Shadow studied the man's possible actions. The smartest stunt would

have been for Reggie to leave Valencia entirely free. The smoothness that Reggie had demonstrated this

THERE lay the answer. Valencia had guessed or learned the identity of the safecracker. Reggie wasn't a

killer. His nerve might have weakened today, if he had been forced to view Valencia's body. But he hadn't

been able to leave her free to give her testimony. So he had taken her with him.

He had been able to trump up a story regarding Valencia's absence, but in so doing, he had built a burden for

himself. If Valencia did not show up within a few days, the flaws of Reggie's story would become evident.

Reggie was working within a time limit. His first bet would be an effort to persuade Valencia into silence, in

return for her release. Reggie had probably made that bid already; he hadn't succeeded, for the girl would

The Shadow doubted that Valencia would listen to Reggie's arguments, even if he resorted to threat. Valencia

was too highspirited to give way to intimidation. If she held out during the few days that marked the time

limit, Reggie would have but one remaining choice. That would be Valencia's death.

If Reggie wouldn't have the nerve to deliver it, others in the crime ring would. Reggie, meanwhile, would

By nightfall, Reggie would again see Valencia. That was The Shadow's conclusion, and reports were proving

it. They were coming into the sanctum by telephone from Burbank. The contact man was relaying them from

The reporter had found a hiding place outside Reggie's apartment. The young man had received a telephone

call; Clyde hadn't overheard it, but it was a long one. A while later, there was another. Reggie was getting

Then came the report that Reggie had left the apartment, by cab. Clyde had followed him to the Pennsylvania

Station. Reggie had bought a ticket to some station on the Long Island Railroad. Clyde did not know the

THE SHADOW left the sanctum. An hour later, he appeared at his regular habitat, the Cobalt Club, where he

used his actual identity of Kent Allard. He received a call soon after he reached the club. Clyde had traced

Burke was doing well. The Shadow decided to let him work for a more definite clue. Hours passed, with

occasional reports always to the same effect: Reggie was hanging around a beach club that fronted on the

Then, with waning afternoon, came the report that The Shadow so confidently expected. The reporter had

overheard a telephone call that Reggie had made from the beach club. It wasn't a call to the crook's chief, for

Someone was to meet him at a boathouse beyond the end of a dirt road. The place was on the Sound, and

only a few miles distant. Reggie had given some instructions regarding the best route to the place. Clyde had

From his phone booth in the Cobalt Club, Kent Allard spoke in a whispered tone. His voice was The

Shadow's. It told Burbank the final instructions that the contact man was to return to Clyde. Two words

Clyde Burke's work was ended. Reggie's trail had become The Shadow's. Alone, the master hunter could

accomplish the most effective work, once the final trail lay ahead. The Shadow foresaw problems, if Clyde

The Shadow's foresight was soon to be justified. Despite those orders that he had sent through Burbank,

CLYDE BURKE received Burbank's call at the beach club. From it, he knew that The Shadow had started

from Manhattan. Dusk was settling; with darkness, The Shadow would have the edge on Reggie Taunton, as

he always did with crooks. Burbank's command to go off duty was one that Clyde was quite willing to accept.

As the reporter started for the veranda, there was a ring of the paybooth telephone. An attendant answered

it, started out immediately, paging Mr. Taunton. Reggie was at that minute getting into a local taxicab outside

Clyde heard Reggie's conversation from a convenient niche in the sprawling hallway.

"Hello, Dink..." Reggie's voice was lowered to a throaty purr. "Listen, you fool, what's the idea of calling me

"Guess you're right, Dink. I should have said the second fork instead of the first... That first road doubles

Reggie hung up and started out to his cab. Clyde was in a dilemma. He had sent The Shadow the wrong

instructions and his chief had started out. There wouldn't be a chance to reach him through Burbank.

Several thoughts should have occurred to Clyde at that moment, but his mind grasped only one. In a pinch,

agents of The Shadow were to use their own best judgment. Clyde regarded this as a suitable emergency. He

decided that his only course was to stay on duty, and follow Reggie farther, if he could.

A chance event completed that decision. A cab had hauled up to discharge some passengers. Clyde hurried

out and entered it. He saw Reggie's cab taking a westward road along the shore. Clyde simply told his driver

Reggie's instructions to "Dink" had told the fellow how to come out from Manhattan. Clyde hadn't the

flimsiest idea of how to reach the boathouse from the beach club. That problem, however, took care of itself

automatically. After a mile or so, Clyde saw Reggie's cab stop about a hundred yards ahead. He halted his

"The place I want is somewhere around here," informed Clyde. "Never mind looking for it. I'll find it."

REGGIE'S cab was gone when Clyde reached the spot where it had stopped. In the thickened dusk, the

reporter saw a path that led toward trees fringing the Sound. Clyde took the path; it was a long one. He was

stumbling through darkness when he saw the outline of a boathouse against the dimming sky.

The door was partly open. From it came a glow that revealed another path that approached from a wooded

When Clyde reached the squatly building he heard the sound of voices. He risked a peek through the

doorway, saw Reggie talking with a pair of roughclad thugs. The interior of the boathouse formed a poorly

The place was piled with boxes, a couple of old motors were in the corner, along with some large gunny

sacks. There was a flatbottomed dory half overturned against one wall. It was a battered boat from which

the mast had been removed. Near it were piles of canvas that looked like sails which someone intended to

There had been just about time for Dink to get here, so Clyde decided that one man was Dink, the other a pal

who had come along. The conference was too muffled for Clyde to overhear it, for the men were gathered

One of the men raised a trapdoor. He and the other descended a flight of steps. The trapdoor closed above

Clyde watched Reggie intently. The suave crook was smoking a cigarette as he sat on an empty box. His face

looked sallow in the light; its expression was unpleasant. Reggie wasn't bothering to keep the sleek pose that

Chances of learning more facts seemed slender, unless Clyde walked in on Reggie. That was something the

reporter definitely intended not to do. Sometimes, though, the worst course could become the best. A new

BEHIND him, along the path from the knoll, Clyde heard the crackle of broken branches. As he turned

around, he saw the flicker of a flashlight. A quick look into the boathouse showed him Reggie had turned,

The flashlight swerved from the path. The man who carried it was making an inspection of the bushes, some

fifty feet from the boathouse. Clyde realized that he could have guessed wrong about Dink. He wasn't one of

This was Dink coming from the path, and he had seen the light in the boathouse. He was making sure that

There wasn't a chance for retreat. Clyde took a bold course instead. Reggie had slouched back on the box,

was staring toward the ceiling while he puffed his cigarette. Clyde stepped coolly through the doorway, spoke

Reggie shot to his feet. His right hand went for his pocket like a lashing whip. It stopped there; Reggie's poise

returned. With his left hand, he threw his cigarette stump to the floor. He stepped on it. His right hand drew a

"Hello!" he purred. "I didn't recognize you at first. You're the reporter who was at Gaylor's, aren't you? Let's

Clyde took the cigarette. While Reggie supplied the match, the reporter calmly stated:

"Featurestory stuff," explained Clyde. "I missed my scoop today, so I squared it with the office by telling

"Not just yet. I wanted to find out more about him first. They say you're engaged to his niece, so I decided

Reggie eyed his lighted cigarette. He seemed to be falling for Clyde's bluff. His tone was quite casual, when

"I heard you were at the beach club," Clyde said glibly. "I got there just when you stepped into a cab. There

"So you took it and chased after me." Reggie smiled. "I like that, Burke. You're an enterprising cuss. All

right, I'll tell you what I know about Gaylor. We can chat while we take a trip in my speedboat."

"The mechanics are testing it. They'll be up in a minute. Wait until you see that baby speed!"

REGGIE was smoothly affable; the fact should have warned Clyde. He was wise enough to know that Reggie

was staging a bluff, but he thought it was the sort that the crook had shown at Gaylor's. It never occurred to

Clyde's story had a flaw the statement that he had heard of Reggie's trip to the beach club. Reggie had gone

to lengths to shake followers while on his way there. There was just one inference that Reggie could draw;

Moreover, Reggie could guess who had put Clyde on his trail. The smooth criminal hadn't forgotten The

Shadow. Reggie had seen the start of last night's battle; had listened to more, while he hid in Gaylor's study.

Reggie was flicking the ashes from his cigarette. His third finger had an odd motion that Clyde did not

suspect. It was like a beckon; it could be seen from the door. Reggie had seen to it that Clyde's back was in

Into the boathouse came a creeping, sweatered figure a long, hunched man who held a gun. It was Dink,

and his finger was itchy on its trigger. His revolver muzzle pointed a straight route to the base of Clyde's

"Yes, Burke, speedboats are my hobby." Reggie's two last fingers straightened in a pausing motion. "The one

I have here is a beauty! Wait until you feel her whack the waves. Boy, how she thumps them!"

Dink had caught Reggie's warning signal. As he heard the words, he guessed their real meaning. Dink

reversed his revolver as he crept still closer. His grimy hand tightened around the barrel. He lifted the gun.

The sleek crook overdid it with that last remark. Clyde's ears sensed the creeping man behind him. He gave a

sudden twist, but Reggie equaled it in speed. Flinging away his cigarette, Reggie grabbed for Clyde, nabbed

Reggie had a wiry foe in Clyde Burke. The reporter gave a twist, swung Reggie in Dink's direction. Away

from danger for the moment, Clyde managed a hard uppercut that sent his grappler backward. Clyde took a

back step of his own, almost to the front wall of the boathouse. That was the move that ended his fight.

The trapdoor heaved upward. Thugs below had heard the scuffle. Clyde was pitched off balance. He grabbed

for Reggie in order to halt the sprawl. Reggie's arms clamped tight, on a level with Clyde's hips. Clyde's arms

Dink was waiting just beyond. He had the angle that he wanted. With an ugly grin, the sweatered thug drove

his forearm downward with an expert, shortjabbed swing. The gun butt tapped Clyde just behind the ear.

Clyde slumped. Reggie released his grip, let the reporter roll sideways to the floor. Clyde flattened limply.

That gun stroke had jarred him into instant senselessness. The lantern light showed him pitifully crumpled,

Crooks held The Shadow's agent in their grip. The hate that they held for The Shadow was to govern their

Reggie Taunton purred those words of approval as he studied Clyde's huddled figure. Dink gave a

"It was a cinch. Only, I could have croaked the guy easy, from the door. What diff would it make, anyway?

"Perhaps not," returned Reggie, dryly. "We'll know more about that, though, after we've searched this chap.

The contents of Clyde's pockets were brought to the light. He wasn't carrying a gun; there was nothing of

"It ain't good to bother these news hounds," he growled. "The blabbers they work for are always likely to start

"This chap's a reporter," admitted Reggie, "but he's something else, too. He's one of The Shadow's stooges!"

There were oaths from Dink and the other mobsters. Their faces took on a serious look. Dink tried to change

it by suggesting that Reggie might be mistaken. Smoothly, Reggie told of Clyde's visit to Gaylor's; of the

The call had aroused suspicion from Reggie at the time it came, but this present episode had caused him to

link it with The Shadow. Reggie's story impressed Dink. The squatly thug voiced his opinion.

"Not too much of a hurry, Dink," objected Reggie. "Don't forget we're working for a big shot, who's plenty

anxious to find The Shadow when The Shadow doesn't know about it. This chap Burke will tell us a lot,

Reggie thought that idea would register well with Dink and the other mobsters. It didn't. Dink reminded

Reggie that they were in a hurry to get somewhere. His pals supported that statement eagerly. The best thing

"All right," conceded Reggie. "Bring over a couple of those big gunny sacks and some of that sail thread."

THE sacks were snatched eagerly. One thug hoisted Clyde's feet, so the other could draw a sack up to the

stunned man's waist. Clyde's shoulders were next; the second sack went over his head and drew downward.

One thug was starting to sew the sacks. Reggie halted him. Cool as ever, the sleek crook still intended to have

"Watch him for a while," he ordered. "If he starts to come to life, I'll talk to him."

The mobsters grumbled. One asked how long Reggie meant by "a while". Reggie said ten minutes; the

"All right," agreed Reggie. "You chaps stay here. I'm going up to the road with Dink."

Outside the boathouse, Reggie stopped Dink from using his flashlight. They listened in the darkness; hearing

nothing, they groped their way up to the road above the knoll. It was only fifty yards distant. Dink nudged

They listened. If Dink had heard a sound, it couldn't be important. Beside Dink's car, Reggie purred whispery

"It won't do for you to go with us, Dink. It won't be safe to leave the car here, after what's happened to

"Burke managed it, didn't he? That means you'd better take the car back to town. Leave it at my garage. Then

DINK muttered that the plan was good. He was a pal of the thugs who had been captured at Gaylor's. He

figured Chi would be healthier than New York, in case one of the prisoners blabbed. He added for Reggie's

"There's a couple other guys who ought to take a trip, too. They're in it as deep as me."

"We're breaking in a new crew," returned Reggie. "That covers things, Dink. Anyway, none of you birds

"No," he replied. "None of the fingers know. However, I'm likely to find out before tonight's over."

"Yes. The chief may want to see her. It's going to take smooth work to handle her, if she won't listen to the

"Say how're you going to get into that little cove over on the Connecticut shore? Those new guys don't

"We'll use the big cove. It's only half a mile west of the other. We can dock at the mouth of the creek. We

"That's jake! But you'll have a half mile out to the point a long way to lug that guy Burke."

"We're not lugging Burke," he told Dink. "You should have caught on to that when I called for the gunny

"You can wrap him with them anchor chains!" exclaimed Dink with enthusiasm. "The ones below in the

"Thanks for the suggestion, Dink, even if I did have the idea already. It's time you were getting started. Wait

here and listen a while; give me time to get back to the boathouse. Blink the lights before you pull out. Two

Reggie turned back along the path. Dink opened the door on the right side of the car, started to climb in. He

This coupe of Dink's was springy. Parked on rough dirt, at a slight tilt, it had dipped sideways when Dink

stepped from it before. This time, the give wasn't so noticeable. Dink saw a possible explanation, one that he

Somebody might have slid into the car, to sit behind the wheel. That weight would account of the coupe's

Dink's impression of The Shadow was a limited one. He pictured The Shadow from descriptions of fights like

the one last night. The Shadow popped into places in a hurry, began a lot of fireworks and cleared out.

The Shadow as Dink figured it wouldn't have ducked into this car. He would have come around it,

shooting with those big gats of his. It would have been quick curtains for both Dink and Reggie.

Dink was subtle enough to suspect that The Shadow might have wanted to overhear the conversation beside

the car; that having listened to it, The Shadow would have more reason to lurk a short while longer. If there

Not by slugging, though. Dink preferred a gunshot. He still believed that this spot was too remote for shots to

be heard. Shifting both hands into his pockets, Dink brought out a flashlight in his left, his revolver in his

He intended quick action, with a half second between two events. First, the blink of his flashlight. If he saw

anyone, his revolver shot would follow. You couldn't beat that system. Nobody could do anything in less than

Torch and gun aimed side by side, Dink pressed the button of the former. With the flash of light came massed

blackness, launching from the open door of the car. It hit Dink like a juggernaut, bowled him five feet from

Dink's flashlight scaled for the bushes, extinguished the instant that the crook's thumb lost the button. Dink

Only Dink's thoughts could equal The Shadow's speed. This jolt had inspired the slowwitted mobster to

instant understanding. He knew that his adversary was The Shadow. More than ever, Dink wanted to make a

kill. He still had his gun, his finger on the trigger. The Shadow was clamping it, but the muzzle pointed

The Shadow's right hand was responsible. It had grabbed the gun barrel, plain in the momentary glow of

Dink's flashlight. The Shadow's forefinger had jabbed within the trigger guard, in back of Dink's, with the

MEANWHILE, The Shadow's left hand had shoved beneath his right arm, to gain a hold on Dink's throat.

Strong fingers were choking Dink's attempt at a yell for Reggie's aid. Moreover, The Shadow's right arm,

Elbowed upward, that arm warded the flaying swings of Dink's left fist. Close to the crook's left ear came a

whispered, taunting laugh, a mere echo of the mirth that had terrified crooks last night, but quite as sinister at

It was Dink's hold on the gun that made Dink continue the fight. You couldn't beat a guy when he still had his

own rod in his mitt. That inspiration kept drilling through his brain. He'd yank that trigger if it was the last

With a spasm of fury, Dink managed to jab his left fist under The Shadow's right elbow. He couldn't shove a

punch through, but he found a chance to twist. It worked to Dink's unexpected advantage. His weight shifted

from the grassy knoll. Despite The Shadow's braking efforts, the fighters went rolling down the slope.

A tree stopped them at the end of a dozen feet. Dink was no longer the under fighter. The Shadow's back had

taken the impact; it had jarred him. Dink was half above him, and could feel The Shadow's sideways slump.

The Shadow's left hand was pawing aimlessly in the darkness. His right forefinger, though, still kept its

Dink saw a way to end that. He was dizzy from the roll, but he knew where the ground was, because he could

feel The Shadow. Hoisting on his left hand, Dink flung his solid weight upon The Shadow, the way he had

The Shadow gave; his breath came with a hissed gasp. Dink had driven hard upon the revolver, and it was

jammed tight between his chest and The Shadow's. Dink started a hard wrench to the left, intending to twist

Dink didn't have to finish that wrench. It wasn't even necessary for him to try to pull the trigger. His pressure

was already on it. The trigger seemed to snap of its own accord. Muffled between the closepressed bodies,

The report certainly justified Dink's opinion that such noise would not be heard in this remote spot. Reggie

Taunton, down in the boathouse, caught only the faint echo of that shot. It was slight enough to be a muffled

He stepped to the boathouse door, listened for ten seconds, then, he heard the faint thrumm of the car's starter.

Evidently Dink had choked the motor when he first tried to start it. Reggie heard the cough of the exhaust; the

The lights blinked twice; their glimmers were long ones. That would be Dink's signal that all was well. With

a grin, Reggie stepped back into the boathouse, to make final preparations for his own departure.

REGGIE found the boathouse empty except for the bulgy sacks that contained Clyde's huddled body. The

trapdoor was open; the two thugs had gone down to the boat. The seven and a half minutes of allotted time

Lighting a cigarette, Reggie moistened its cork tip as he eyed the sacks. His keen gaze detected a feeble

Stooping beside the sacks, Reggie raised the upper one. He saw Clyde's face. It was white, but the reporter's

eyes had opened. They had a dull stare, that proved Clyde couldn't understand where he was.

Reggie remembered that hard knockout blows frequently left victims wondering what had happened during

the preceding interval. He saw his chance to take advantage of Clyde's state. He lifted the reporter's head.

Clyde's eyes had a stare that showed his vision was blurred. He didn't even know who Reggie was.

"The Shadow's waiting to hear from you" Reggie used his most convincing purr "and you've got to get

"Not the first fork" Clyde was a trifle more coherent "it's the second you understand, the second fork "

If Reggie had asked how to reach The Shadow, Clyde might have spilled a clue to Burbank. Clyde was only

"I've got to talk to him," insisted Reggie. "Spill it, Burke. Who is The Shadow?"

Clyde's eyes were straight upward. They were too dulled to carry deception. The words that his lips gave

REGGIE'S lips fashioned a sneer. Clyde's importance decreased with that faltering utterance that he had

made. Reggie decided that the reporter could not be one of The Shadow's regular agents the underworld

Probably, they were regular denizens of crimeland. Clyde seemed no more than the stooge that Reggie had

defined him. Smart business for The Shadow to make a cub reporter feel big, by steering him along a trail.

Easy for The Shadow to pick up information; tough for the stooge who landed into trouble. The Shadow was

That didn't change Reggie's viciousness toward Clyde. On the contrary, Reggie saw more reason to dispose of

the reporter, and he had become willing to complete the matter without delay. As he figured it, Clyde's report

The Shadow's disregard for the lives of crooks had given Reggie the impression that the cloaked avenger

cared little about what happened to others. Reggie didn't bother to think that over; if he had, he might have

Clyde Burke had admitted a connection with The Shadow. That was the only thing that counted. Clyde's

disappearance couldn't increase The Shadow's determination to finish the crime ring. It might show The

Meanly, Reggie slammed Clyde's head against the floor. That shove jarred the reporter into another lapse of

THERE were clanks from below, the dragging of chains, followed by a splash of something heavy hitting

"Say, you dopes," he growled, "what do you want to lug those anchor chains upstairs for? We'll bring the guy

Mumbles came from below. Something about a loose length of chain that had slipped from the landing space.

"We'll grapple for it," promised Reggie. "We're going to need all the chain we've got."

It was several minutes before Reggie came up the steps, followed by the husky helpers. He was calling them

"We've got to get across the Sound in a hurry," he argued. "I want to talk some sense into the girl. Get busy!

Stitch those sacks together. Just baste them for a starter; we can sew them tighter when we're in the boat."

One man started to draw the top sack upward. Reggie grabbed his hand, to stop him. He handed the fellow a

big needle and some coarse thread. The thug explained why he wanted to lift the sack.

"I know he isn't," snapped Reggie. "I was talking to him. He doesn't know who The Shadow is, but he

That news hurried the thugs with their sewing. They stitched the sacks, hoisted the body over their shoulders

and started down the stairs. One thug suggested that it might be good to hand Clyde another "tap on the konk"

"Seems like the guy's croaked already," he told his pal. "Don't you feel the dead weight he's got?"

Reggie took a long look around the boathouse. He peered everywhere, swinging the lantern all about. He

even approached the corner where the old motors were stacked, but he couldn't step very far inward, for the

Blackness was deep in that corner, but it was motionless. That made Reggie think of The Shadow, and the

thought caused him to grin. The Shadow wouldn't be standing around here doing nothing. That, at least, was

The smooth crook came to the overturned dory. He set down the lantern, tried to raise the side of the flat boat.

It was too heavy. It would take two men to raise it. Reggie decided that further inspection was unnecessary.

One of the thugs was on the stairs, saying that they'd wrapped the chains around the body. Reggie blew out

the lantern and let a flashlight guide him downward. He closed the trapdoor, bolted it from below.

For a half minute, the only sound within the boathouse was the lick of waves against its piling. Then came the

grind of a sliding door beneath. A motor roared under the press of an electric starter. The speedboat rumbled

clear. Its tone dwindled to a rhythm as the powerful engine sped the craft out into the Sound.

Wavelets again lapped the piling. Slight though the sounds were, they almost drowned the swish that came

from the corner of the boathouse. A tiny flashlight glimmered; it found the kerosene lantern. Gloved fingers

HIS presence belied the first guess that Reggie had made. Actually, The Shadow had been blended with that

darkened corner, inactive, while Reggie made his brief inspection. The Shadow's next move was to show the

Stepping to the dory, The Shadow raised the boat with remarkable ease. His lone strength was not only

sufficient to do the task that Reggie thought would need two men; The Shadow accomplished even more.

He shifted the leaning dory's weight to his shoulder, held the inverted boat at upward tilt while he reached

beneath and drew forth a limp form that had been hidden there. Twisting, The Shadow caught the boat with

his hands, settled it to its original position. He turned to stoop above the man that he had brought from the

Soon, The Shadow coaxed his agent into semiconsciousness. Producing a small phial that contained a

The effect of the elixir a secret concoction of The Shadow's was marked. Clyde steadied, rubbed his hand

Clyde could see The Shadow's own eyes brilliant orbs that burned from beneath the brim of the slouch hat.

No other features were visible. The shade from the hat, the cloak collar upturned above The Shadow's chin,

The agent couldn't remember much at first, but he groped back to the beginning of his story. From there, he

managed to recall the details. At only one spot did Clyde hear comment from The Shadow; even then, it came

without words. The Shadow's expression was a whispered laugh, but Clyde caught its significance.

Clyde had told why be stayed on Reggie's trail. From the laugh, he realized that he had been foolish.

His own report showed that Dink had seen an error in the road map. What Dink had noticed, The Shadow

could certainly observe. The Shadow had found the right road without needing more information.

The Shadow brought Clyde to his feet, aided him up the knoll to Dink's car, which, strangely, was still there.

Starting the coupe, The Shadow announced that he was driving to another boathouse, where he could obtain

He had overheard enough between Reggie and Dink to identify the portion of the Connecticut shore that

There was a sinister significance to that whispered news. Clyde caught it. He was glad that he wasn't in

Reggie's shoes, although further thought told Clyde that the smooth crook might wear those boots for a while

to come. The Shadow needed Reggie alive, more than dead, in order to reach the big brain of the crime ring.

ONE crook, though, had served better dead than alive. As they rode along, Clyde heard that story repeated in

The Shadow had purposely released trigger pressure at an instant when Dink's gun had been pressed against

the crook's own chest. Dink had taken his own bullet through the heart. The Shadow had furnished the signal

blinks that made Reggie believe all was well, had started the coupe's motor to make the sleek crook think the

Disposal of Dink's body had been necessary. The Shadow had immediately divined an excellent possibility.

Coming to the boathouse, he had brought Dink with him. There, The Shadow's opportunity had arrived. He

was just in time to see Reggie give Clyde's head a shove, then go downstairs to help the boat crew regain the

The Shadow had pulled the gunny sacks from Clyde, had placed his motionless agent beneath the dory. He

had put Dink's corpse where Clyde had lain, had lapped the gunny sacks over the dead thug's body. Reggie

Clyde was exuberant at the thought of joining the chase after the mobsters. He learned suddenly that he was

not to participate in it. The Shadow was giving new instructions that applied directly to Clyde.

The agent was to report to Burbank. Other agents were to come to the Connecticut shore, in case The Shadow

needed them. Clyde was to leave Dink's car at Reggie's garage, taking care that no one observed him closely.

A vacation was due him from the Classic. He was to let the newspaper office think that he had taken it. For

The Shadow's campaign would be badly ruined if criminals knew that he had rescued Clyde. The reporter

Soon, Clyde was at the wheel of the coupe, driving away from another boathouse on the Sound. The purr of a

motorboat marked The Shadow's start for Connecticut. Clyde smiled at thought of the intervening miles. By

this time, Reggie's crew were well across the Sound, prepared to pitch a weighted body overboard.

They would take that deed as proof that The Shadow was short one agent. Instead, the watery burial was the

sequel to another of The Shadow's victories. One more crook had been crossed from the crime ring's rolls.

THE SHADOW'S estimate of Valencia's nerve had been a high one. It was justified by the way in which the

girl was accepting her present circumstances. Valencia was a prisoner, but she had not broken under the

An added tribute to Valencia's courage was the fact that she had no knowledge of her present circumstances.

Reggie had found time to bind and gag her the night before. To prevent her struggles for release, he had given

Valencia remembered how the car had reeked with the deadly stuff. She recognized that her temporary

periods of insensibility had made it impossible to estimate the length of the ride.

She could accurately recall one single detail that had prevailed throughout the trip. Whenever Reggie had

reached an open highway, he had driven the coupe to the limit of its speed. Valencia couldn't guess whether

Her present surroundings consisted of a small room with shuttered windows, its furniture a flimsy cot and

rickety chair. A single electric light, hung from the ceiling, furnished all the illumination. The room was on

It was on the ground floor, because Valencia could hear the pad of footsteps on the turf outside the window;

an isolated building, for, by daylight, Valencia had managed to see through the cracked shutters. All that she

There were patrollers, too, outside the locked door. Valencia could hear the pace of guards in a creaky

hallway. They had not disturbed her during the day, except to tap at the transom and chuck articles through,

Some were food. Crackers, cheese and canned goods, with openers for the latter. The heavy stuff had come in

wadded paper bags such as a thermos bottle filled with ice water. Paper plates and napkins accompanied

There was clothing, to replace the negligee attire in which Valencia had made the trip. She had put on a dress

that fitted her fairly well; stockings and shoes were oversize, but proved wearable.

Along in the late afternoon, a bouquet of flowers had come through the transom. Red roses Valencia's

preference, as Reggie knew. He must have ordered them from some nearby town, or assigned the job to one

of the lesser crooks. Valencia took the bouquet as a token that Reggie would arrive later, to indulge in

Far off, faint through the closed shutters, Valencia heard the noise of a motor. It wasn't an automobile; it was

a sound that she had heard before. She hadn't quite decided whether those occasional throbs came from

planes or motorboats. This time, she was certain. The rhythm was from a speedboat.

It came closer; slowed. It ebbed, throbbed again, to end with a chuggy puttputt. Valencia came to two

conclusions. One was a certainly that this house was near a sizable body of water. The other was mere

probability, but it was a correct guess. Valencia believed that Reggie would soon appear.

SOON, there was a stir in the hallway. After a brief conference among persons outside, a hand rapped at the

door. A voice Reggie's asked permission to enter. Valencia gave it. Reggie unlocked the door and came

He tried to look suave, but he wasn't at ease. Maybe he expected a tirade from Valencia, but the girl

preserved silence. She was icy in expression. Reggie knew it was no mere pose. Valencia did not try to hide

"Why not?" Valencia shrugged as she helped herself from Reggie's pack. "After all, you might have sent

some cigarettes in here, instead of those roses. Flowers don't quite fit the scene, unless "

Valencia was eyeing Reggie as he extended a lighted match to her, then ignited his own cigarette. She gave a

"Unless you intend them for my coffin. In that case, white roses would be more appropriate than red."

"It isn't that bad, Val," insisted Reggie. "The bunch wouldn't let me send in cigarettes because matches would

"As for what's going to happen to you, I can answer that. Nothing nothing at all. Provided you will be

reasonable. All I want you to do is show some fairness. That job didn't go through last night. If you'll promise

"It's no use, Reggie." Valencia's coolness was the sort that Reggie could only imitate. "You're an outright

"I've treated you nicely, Valencia." Reggie's eyes were widening in a glare. "Suppose I change all that. What

if I call in a mob, like that bunch last night? You know what they did to Bevlin."

"You don't know your own mind, Reggie," she derided. "Half the time you're trying to play the boy hero. The

other half, you're acting the relentless villain. You're too slick for the hero stuff. You need a big mustache to

be the villain. At that" she noted Reggie's smooth upper lip "I believe the mustache would be a false

Reggie curbed a flash of anger. He knew that his usual persuasion would fail with Valencia. He had to come

"WE were talking about your uncle last night," he remarked. "Remember what you said about him?"

Reggie reached for another cigarette. His expression became cryptic. His tone renewed its smoothness.

"Suppose I took you to your uncle, Val so that we could lay this case before him. If I could convince him

that I wanted to turn straight; if he said he'd give me another chance would you be willing to keep silent?"

Reggie smiled. Valencia had an idea of what might be in his mind. Reggie prided himself on his ability to

pretend frankness. He thought it went across with everyone but Valencia. Everett Gaylor had always received

Valencia felt otherwise, but she wasn't telling that to Reggie. If he wanted to put his head in the slipknot, he

was welcome. She had expected him to suggest some plan of this sort. Her policy was to encourage it, for she

"I'll take you to your uncle, Val," decided Reggie. "You've got to promise one thing, though. No trouble, no

impatience, on the way there. We'll have to stop off when we reach New York, at an apartment that I've just

"Because I'd like to talk to your uncle first. Just to learn the mood he's in. Not about you he thinks you're

safe. But if he's in a business conference, it wouldn't be best to approach him."

"I understand, Reggie. You want me to remain a prisoner, but in a new place, until you have talked to my

Valencia considered it. She decided her plight could be no worse there than here. The place would be more

comfortable. She would be in New York, close to home, instead of in some isolated house lost in unknown

VALENCIA'S word was enough for Reggie. He knew the girl would not break it. Suavely, he purred his

thanks. He was saying more, when a rough knock came at the door. Reggie listened there, inquired the reason

Reggie bowed himself out. Valencia guessed what the call meant. The brain of this gang was calling up to

find out what Reggie had accomplished. Reggie's departing smile showed that he was pleased by Valencia's

It turned out as Valencia expected. When the sleek man returned, he packed her few belongings. He found

"I must have lost it on the way here," replied the girl. "I suppose it was when you stopped the car to tie me

Reggie recalled the incident. He had halted the car in an old lot near the East River, that was little better than

a dumping ground. An odd slipper found there wouldn't attract much attention. Reggie's worries ended.

"O.K., Val. We've made the deal. Let's start. We can reach New York in a couple hours."

They went out through a gloomy hallway to a dilapidated porch. A sedan was parked there in an old carriage

drive. Two men were seated in front. Reggie invited Valencia to sit in back, told her he would join her in a

All the while , Valencia sensed that others were in the offing. Footsteps had sidled away when they came

through the hall. She could hear sneaky sounds in the grass that fringed the porch. Once in the sedan, she saw

There, Reggie held a conference, a halfdozen hardfaced men about him. His words showed ugly foresight.

Had Valencia overheard them, she would have reversed her decision about going to New York. For Reggie's

"The Shadow may be wise," informed Reggie. "I had to come here last night. It was the only bet. But there's

"That's why I'm leaving you," purred Reggie. "You'll have a cinch, if he shows up. The girl won't be around

to worry about. We're through with this hideout, anyway. So be ready with the works."

Reggie joined Valencia in the sedan. As they rolled away from the big bleak house, Valencia repressed her

first shudder. Reggie and his outfit didn't worry her; but, somehow, the house did. She sensed that the place

Valencia was intuitive. It was odd that she did not catch some foresight of the adventures which awaited her.

Instead, Valencia could think only of that huge, lost house where she had been a prisoner, and the dangers

Experiences there were to be encountered by another who had crossed the crime ring's trail.

CONNECTICUT headlands lay black beneath the clouded night sky. Most observers could not have

discerned where woodland blended with the heavens, but The Shadow managed to spy the dividing line. Dim

moonlight, trickling through clouds directly overhead, furnished the faint illumination that The Shadow

Once traced, that shore line still remained obscure. The Shadow's observation was almost uncanny, the way

he traced the contours. His boat was well out in the Sound, its motor throttled down to make its speed a mere

He was saving time in his approach. He was entering the little cove, instead of the large one, risking the

difficult navigation that Reggie had avoided. All the while his advance was sufficiently silent to remain

The speedboat nosed through a tricky channel. The motor was turned off; only the swash of lapping water

could be heard. Light wind was blowing toward this shore. The boat was making headway from that slight

impetus. Amidships, The Shadow was using an oar as a pole, while he managed the wheel with his other

The boat scraped rock. A shove of the oar, a twist of the wheel, and the craft eased past a shoal on the other

side. Swinging to starboard, The Shadow shoved the oar to half its length. The blade found a rock base. A last

Three minutes later The Shadow was ashore, his boat tied to a rickety dock. He had landed on the point,

within a hundred yards of the old, forgotten house. His tiny flashlight was probing the ground to find a path.

Wind waved the treetops. Its whisper was more audible than the slight sounds The Shadow made. Ahead, he

saw dim sky. It represented a clearing. The Shadow doused the flashlight. Creeping onward, he reached the

The Shadow skirted the building. He guided himself by looking upward, to see the outline of the roof. All the

while, he worked along the blackened ground through sense of touch alone. Close to the house, he could

make out the shapes of windows. He circled the far side, the back. Coming along the near side, The Shadow

Two windows differed from the others. They were shuttered. They represented the logical room in which

crooks would keep a prisoner. There was no light trickling through; but that did not denote an empty room.

There were vague whispers somewhere; they had a mumble that sounded like men in conference. Padded

footfalls came toward The Shadow, they were from the rear of the building; he moved toward the front.

Crouched beside the porch, he heard a patroller pass. This house was under watch, and guarding men

UNQUESTIONABLY, this house could be approached by land as well as water. That signified a road

coming from the back, particularly since the driveway curved around the house. Reggie had first come here

by car. He probably expected that The Shadow would do the same, for the sequel to the boathouse episode

Therefore, pickets were along the road in back. They were waiting to flash the word of any invader, so that

Coming from the little cove, The Shadow had nullified those precautions. His best move was to enter the

house from the front, before the enemy guessed that he was near. The big front door was a logical path of

entry, but The Shadow didn't care to use it until he learned more about the premises.

The porch beside which he crouched was high. The space underneath it was screened by a lattice, nailed

loosely in place. Silently, The Shadow removed that flimsy barrier. He wedged through, drew the lattice to its

original position. Under the porch he used the flashlight, keeping it muffled in the folds of his cloak.

A stone foundation marked the actual house front. It had no windows, but The Shadow found two narrow

slits as ventilators for the cellar. He thrust one arm through the first opening; his head followed. His shoulders

Musty silence lay within. It was worth investigation, for the space was certainly empty. Even a man's low

breathing could have been heard in those confines. Tilting the flashlight downward, The Shadow focused it to

With the light's glimmer, he saw a narrow ledge; as he shoved his arm beyond it, craning his head forward, he

This portion of the cellar was a solidwalled square hole, a full fifteen feet in depth. The floor was a dozen

feet square; from it came a multitude of reflections. The floor was fitted with upright spikes long, pointed

Those poles were steel. They were spaced about a foot apart. They covered every sector of the floor. Their

tapering points came to a needle sharpness. As The Shadow steadied his light upon a grayish object, he saw

FLAT on the floor, sprawled in grotesque pose, was a human skeleton. Spikes projected through splintered

ribs. One long point had received the victim's neck, which accounted for the skewed position of the head. The

A fall into that pit meant certain death. No one could possibly avoid the spikes. The momentum of a dropping

Nor would the points lose their effectiveness after they received one victim. The skeleton had settled to the

floor itself. The twisted bones were shrunken to a pitiful flatness. If a fresh victim landed on that same spot,

Walls, too, were spiked, below the level of the ledge. Their steel points projected straight outward, forming a

flanking menace on every side. If a lunging victim hit the wall, he would receive murderous stabs for a

Turning the flashlight upward, The Shadow saw the ceiling of the room. Mechanism there showed it to be a

sliding trap. That ceiling was obviously the floor of the front hall. Whoever crossed it, when the trap was set,

Scanning the ceiling, The Shadow measured its width He estimated it at no more than eight feet. That gave

Extinguishing the light, The Shadow crept out from beneath the porch. He followed the ground to the front

steps. Silently, he ascended them, moved carefully across the rickety porch until he reached the front door.

The door was unlocked. Small wonder, with the trap that lay beyond it. The door hinges, though rusty, failed

to screech under The Shadow's inching push. He needed only the narrowest of spaces to effect an entry, but

Ungloved, The Shadow's fingers discovered a crack at the ends of the floor boards. It suited his expectation.

The trap to the pit did not cover the entire floor of the hall. There was a walk around it to allow the passage of

Wedging through, The Shadow eased the door shut. He followed the wall to make a circuit of the hall

Past the trap, The Shadow sensed the gloominess of a rear hall that led to the shuttered room. His gloves were

on again. Testing the floor as he advanced, The Shadow found it solid. He came to a door. It was locked, but

The Shadow used a skeleton key that had a hollow interior, with a small hole near the tip. His thumb scraped

away a plug of wax that covered another hole at the handle of the key. That admitted air. The key tip dripped

This lubricant made the process soundless. The Shadow opened the door, stepped through. He flicked the

flashlight low, so its rays would not reach the battered shutters. With the door shut tight behind him, he had

A SPOT of light showed a red slipper near a cot. The slipper was Valencia's the mate to the one that The

Shadow had acquired when he started to chase Reggie's cab after Reggie abducted the girl. Like the other, it

was a clue to where the girl had been. This room was the place where Reggie had imprisoned her.

The room was empty. Reggie's recent arrival explained that. Whether he had taken the girl to some new

stronghold, or whether she had finally listened to his blandishments, was a question that needed other

Logically, Valencia would not have left here without a struggle provided she had been able to make one.

Similarly, she would not have come to terms with Reggie, even if he threatened death. Therefore, The

Shadow leaned to the actual facts: that Valencia had made a partial agreement which bettered her situation

There were times when The Shadow's analysis of facts became overconclusive. This proved to be one such

occasion. The Shadow knew that Reggie's departure had been recent, for the smooth crook hadn't arrived here

Also logical, Reggie would have left a rear guard. If they were needed to trap an intruder, they would stay all

night. The front hall trap made that unnecessary. Therefore, The Shadow assumed that the man who had

That was why he decided to make a search within the house, not knowing it wasn't Reggie alone who had

resolved to snare The Shadow here. Actual orders had come from the big brain in New York. The Shadow

Blinking his flashlight along the wall, he saw an oldfashioned telephone, with its clumsy bell box. Lifting

the receiver, The Shadow caught the low hum that told him the telephone had not been disconnected.

Instantly, he saw new danger. If Reggie had talked to the big shot who managed him, that spikefilled trap

might have been supplemented by another. The Shadow hung up the receiver, pocketed his flash, reached for

He realized that his flicked light in this hallway might have been spotted by lurkers. It had. Proof came before

The Shadow could prepare for it. A door swung open at the rear of the hall. A powerful electric lantern threw

ARM raised half across his eyes, The Shadow used the fold of his cloak sleeve to offset the brilliance.

Through the thin cloth, he discerned a wideshaped object that filled the rear doorway. It was a steel shield,

It was too late to get back to the room where Valencia had been a prisoner. If The Shadow had dived in that

direction, the machine gun would have begun its clatter. His natural move, prompted by quick thought, was

in the opposite direction. He made a reverse twist, found a niche where the rear hall widened into the big

There, he was momentarily safe; he halted. The front door was one outlet. To reach it, he would have to circle

the trapped floor. On the way, however, there was an avenue that offered safety: broad steps leading to the

The Shadow sprang for the lowermost step. A light from above blinded him suddenly. There, partly

obscuring the brilliance, was a second shield, with its looming muzzle. There was still a tiny alcove just

beyond the steps. The Shadow saw it, knew that it would free him from the menace above.

Before he could take his leap to the last spot of safety, its security was denied him.

The front door whammed inward. A third machinegun shield blocked the exit to the porch. A big light

beside it clicked on. The gun's waiting muzzle covered every square foot of the front hall, alcove and room

There was no taunt from The Shadow's lips. Instead, there came the coarse laughs of gunners who guffawed

their mirth from every angle. They had The Shadow in a triple trap. He was due for death from the streaming

The only choice, as murderers saw it, lay in which gun The Shadow favored. They knew that he would make

Stairs, front door, rear hall whichever route The Shadow took, a shielded gun would rip its welcome.

MOMENTS were prolonged as The Shadow stood motionless in that brilliance. Swift though his moves had

been, he knew that gunners would already have begun their fire, had they been restless. They were lingering

Scum of the underworld, those mobsters relished the final moments. It would be something they could boast

about, this rubout; how they had pooled their cash, each betting that The Shadow would dive in his

All would share credit for the kill; in fact, the actual murderer would need the cash reward to offset the

prestige that his pals would gain. The men who waited, in keeping with the deal, would be recognized as the

Crooks watched to see what would influence The Shadow's choice. They believed that some wild whim

would make him pick one gun as a possible object of attack. That wouldn't help. Even if The Shadow did the

Even though the machine guns covered different areas, each was visible to at least one other. If The Shadow

attacked a single shield, to find the man behind it paralyzed with fear, he would only be loaded with bullets in

The Shadow did not expect to find any gunner rooted. He was grasping for another choice. In an instant, he

He moved with suddenness, whirled about toward the stairs above him. That held the fire of the frontdoor

gunner. The Shadow changed direction too quickly for the man above to open fire.

Spinning away, he cleared the lower step, sprang along the hallway wall as though making for the rear. The

He was going for the stairs again. Only the frontdoor gunner had been able to see him all the while. His

muzzle had moved along with The Shadow's dash. It stopped when the reverse move came. It wasn't covering

The Shadow when he suddenly reappeared within the range of the killer who topped the stairs.

The Shadow took a long spring upward. With a second stride, he spun entirely about. Throwing all his

strength into a headlong plunge, he dived for the center of the square front hall.

From the floor above came the rattle of the machine gun. Its bullets slivered the steps. The aim was wrong;

the fire was belated. The Shadow had cleared the spot that the gun covered. He landed on hands and knees,

six feet from the stairs. His momentum was terrific, carrying him toward the front door.

There, the shielded gun began to chatter. Its muzzle was off aim, but the machine gunner was swinging it.

Half a second more, he'd be drilling The Shadow when the cloaked fighter bounced upward.

THERE was a sharp click from the hallway floor. It split in the center; its two halves slithered apart. The

Shadow had hit the automatic trap that covered the spiked pit. He was somersaulting forward from the force

The Shadow had sideangled that leap with double purpose. First, to trick the fire from the stairs; again, to hit

the exact center of the trap. His plunge was spotted by the killer in the rear hall. Hearing the rip of guns, that

Bullets were hailing from all directions, drilling the old house walls, bashing against the shields that guarded

Relieved of The Shadow's weight, the floor had clacked shut. Bullets tore the floorboards, but didn't reach the

Windows were shattered by the spray of bullets. The triple fusillade sounded a din like the rattle of an

artillery battle. The echoes carried far through the thin woods; they continued after the guns had ceased.

Staring at the vacant hallway, gunmen were angered by the realization that all their fire had been wasted. Not

even a stray bullet had stung The Shadow. Their victim had cheated them of the satisfaction they wanted.

The only solace was their confidence that he had perished despite his quickwitted action. The Shadow had

Snarled oaths decreased as the gunners shoved away their shields and congregated toward the front hall. The

man from the front door reached around to pull a hidden lever that locked the sliding floor in place. The trio

One suggested that they open the trap, give him a taste of revolver bullets while he lay penetrated by spikes.

Another vetoed that plan. Why put The Shadow out of misery? Let him die, knowing how dumb he'd been to

The third gunner suggested they open the floor, anyway, for a look at The Shadow. One pulled the lever, the

floor slid apart. Lights flashed downward, to show the huddled shape in black near the front edge of the pit.

The Shadow was impaled like the skeleton. Four spikes jutted from his twisted, cloaked figure.

THERE were calls from outside darkness. Mobsters doused their lights. The arrivals were from the rear road.

Ghostly in the night, came the distinct tone of a steamer's whistle. The drawn wail was repeated. It came in

"You chumps brought it. What did you all have to cut loose for? Them weren't the orders."

"Sure! That's why it's blowing. Maybe a lot of hicks around here have heard it, too. If they didn't, the boat

A tiff with local police would be poor policy. The crooks packed the machine guns, made a quick getaway.

Hurried footsteps could be heard through the floor. In the pit beneath, The Shadow moved. He pressed a

flashlight, noted the glisten of the spikes about him. Warily, he arose, drawing his cloak from the steel

In his right fist, The Shadow still clenched an automatic. He had managed to hold it during the dive. His

choice of the pit had been more than suicidal bravery. He had not forgotten the ledge that ran above the front

The Shadow had made it. The spreading floor had not stopped his momentum. The headlong lurch had

Sliding backward, The Shadow had stopped a fall by gripping one of the wall spikes. That was when he had

let a gun drop. Using the wall spikes as ladder rungs, he had descended hand and foot into the pit.

He hadn't waited to look for his dropped gun. Instead, he had used the flashlight, picked himself a twisted bed

among the spikes. He had drawn his cloak down over the points to create the illusion of death. From above,

the gloating observers had seen that transfixed shape. They had assumed that the spikes pierced The

All the while, The Shadow had kept his .45 tilted upward, ready to blast away through the cloak. It would

THERE was no fake to the crooked band's departure. Satisfied that battle would be unnecessary, The Shadow

How long he would have to wait, depended upon what developed. Minutes passed drearily, until they totaled

an hour. There wasn't a sound from anywhere about the old house. The expected searchers had not come.

Evidently the steamer hadn't been able to report the exact source of the gunfire. This lonely point of land had

It would be possible to break this trap. The air slits from the ledge to the space beneath the porch were

flanked with crumbly stones. With hours of patience, The Shadow could carve a path.

The job would be wearisome; dangerous, too, because of the narrow ledge. A chance slip could mean a fall to

It was more feasible to wait for the arrival of his agents. Clyde Burke had relayed orders for Burbank to send

them here. They would find the house; The Shadow could recognize them by their method of search. Taps

would guide them to the pit. If they didn't hear the raps, a gunshot would fill the bill.

One hour more, and the agents would arrive. Since one trail was lost, The Shadow could afford the delay. His

new efforts to locate Valencia would be a matter for tomorrow. Tonight, The Shadow had at least preserved

Crooks were confident that he had found his death upon a bed of spikes. Instead, The Shadow had averted the

Had The Shadow foreseen distant events already in progress, he would not have been content to linger in the

pit. Those doings, however, had given no inkling of their approach. Crooks were taking a bold,

unprecedented plan to cover up their past misdeeds by a method that they had managed to keep hidden from

The new episode in crime's strange drama was developing in Manhattan. There, Valencia Gaylor was to play

THE "apartment" that Reggie Taunton had mentioned was scarcely suited to such a description, but its

In keeping with her promise, the girl had made no trouble during the trip. She was satisfied that Reggie was

keeping to his terms, when the sedan reached Manhattan and stopped in back of a large apartment house.

Reggie suggested that they go in by the side door. Valencia obliged. But when they entered the automatic

elevator with the two thugs accompanying them the car went down instead of up. Valencia noticed, too,

that the crooks had donned masks. She started a protest to Reggie when the elevator reached the

A masked man unlocked a heavy door. Reggie turned on a light. Valencia saw a windowless room, furnished

with chairs and table. There was a telephone in the corner, that made Valencia see an advantage in remaining

"You won't mind it, Val," declared Reggie. "I won't be gone long. Don't worry about these bruisers. They

Half an hour followed Reggie's departure. Through the girl's mind ran the thought that if her uncle was at

home, Reggie should have talked to him by this time. Valencia was getting impatient, when the telephone

Reggie's voice came over the wire, smooth, confident in its purr. He said that someone else wanted to talk to

her. Valencia was elated when her uncle's voice came from the receiver. The rumbled tone of Everett Gaylor

"Hello, Valencia! Reggie tells me you'll be over here shortly. Come as soon as you can. I'm anxious to see

Reggie was on again before Valencia could answer. He said that he would like to talk to one of his "friends";

that either would do. Valencia gave the telephone to the thug who stood beside her. The fellow took Reggie's

"Let's go," said the crook, when he hung up. "We're taking you home, cutey. Remember, though no funny

Danger was past, that was certain. The fact that her uncle expected her immediate return was proof that the

thugs would take her there. One drove; the other rode in back with Valencia. The driver had his mask off, but

When they reached Gaylor's brownstone house, the thug beside her motioned to the curb. Valencia opened

the door, crossed the sidewalk, to hurry up the steps. She didn't have to ring; the door was slightly open.

Before Valencia could close the door, the thugs from the sedan came through. Both had on their masks; one

prodded Valencia with a gun, while the other closed the door. With growls for her to keep quiet, they shoved

Everett Gaylor was seated at his desk, puffing one of his favorite cigars. On either side of him stood masked

Near the desk was Reggie, drawing on a cigarette. His smile was suave when he met Valencia's gaze. Turning

GAYLOR settled back in his big chair. His lips formed one of the dry smiles that Valencia had seen him use

with business associates. She had known that there was shrewdness behind the smile, but she had never

"I think Valencia understands," spoke Gaylor. His heavy tone was as hard as his lips. "She had learned too

Valencia clenched her fists. She strode straight to the desk. Her eyes were raging, fighting to defeat her

"You mean you're the head of the crime ring?" stormed the girl. "Your talk of mergers are all fakes?"

"Not so fast, Valencia!" Gaylor's interruption was a harsh one; his gaunt face showed a suppressed rage that

was new to Valencia. "My business transactions are legitimate. They are large, extensive, but sometimes not

"That is why" Gaylor was leaning back, calmer "I sometimes amplify them with other enterprises. Crime,

"I suppose you arranged the burglary here, to cover up your traces," she said. "The law would naturally not

"Quite an intelligent conclusion," commended Gaylor dryly. "That was partly the reason why I gave Reggie

the safe combination and told him to commit the robbery. There was profit, though, besides. Several persons

had entrusted large sums to me. Twothirds of the funds in my safe belonged to others."

Valencia's scorn deepened. She wanted to hate her uncle, but couldn't. Her old loyalty was too strong. Gaylor

saw it; he leaned across the desk. His voice took on a solid persuasion, far more forceful than Reggie's

"We have a present problem," announced Gaylor. "It concerns you. Valencia, as much as myself. That is why

"Exactly! If you do, and nothing can dissuade you, I fear that your death would follow. Really, Valencia"

Gaylor's voice had a note of concern "That would break my heart. I still have one, you know."

"I regret his death. It was an accident. The only one that ever occurred. Nothing like that will happen again.

VALENCIA had sensed that statement before it came. She stepped back from the desk, looked from her

uncle to Reggie. She eyed the four masked men; contemptuously, she ignored the revolvers they displayed.

"I owe you everything," she told her uncle. "That is why I said what I did. I meant it. Therefore, I shall prove

it. Your secret is safe, Uncle Everett. I shall never reveal it, so long as you are alive."

The girl fumed toward the door. A masked crook blocked her with his gun. Gaylor rumbled an order; Reggie

"I'm going upstairs to pack," she declared "Nothing in my promise can make me stay here."

"Of course not," declared Gaylor, tartly. "However, Valencia, you will need money. Here is money that I had

placed in the bank for you." He extended a long envelope. "No, no you do not need to scorn it. The money

"You are welcome to it, with one proviso. In the envelope is also a railway ticket, with typewritten

instructions. You will go to the place named in the instructions and stay there let us say, a short while. The

Valencia was shaking her head again. Thugs were becoming restless with their guns.

"You will accept this proviso," ordered Gaylor. "You will go other places, later, when you receive

instructions by mail. I shall expect letters frequently. Cordial letters, Valencia. All these are necessary to your

promise of silence. I must know where you are. We must still appear to be on friendly terms."

The girl came back into the study, took the envelope that her uncle handed her. His argument was logical

This time, it was Reggie who called for her to wait when she reached the door. Reggie spoke a reminder to

"Ah, yes," interposed Gaylor. "The police commissioner, and my dear friend, Merlock. You won't mind

meeting them, Valencia. The commissioner is very self important; Latham Merlock is a gentleminded

creature. They will bore you, but we need them as witnesses to your safe return."

WHILE Valencia was packing, she heard the visitors arrive. She dressed in traveling clothes, went out in the

hall to call the servants. It was Reggie who responded, coming up from the ground floor. He took Valencia's

"Don't shout, Val. The servants are out. You don't think we'd have kept them here with the mob, do you?

Come along. Say hello, while I call a cab. Where's that envelope? In the suitcase?"

Valencia nodded. Her lips were very tight. She hated Reggie; soon, she supposed, she would detest her uncle.

For the last few minutes though, Valencia had found it hard to choke back her sobs. The nerve that she had

shown was still there, but she couldn't stand the bitterness that came with her uncle's confession of crime.

Reggie tried to soothe her. His sympathy sounded false. He went back to his harsh manner. Valencia steeled

herself with a bitter laugh. When she reached the stairs, she was smiling; by the time she entered the study,

Gaylor gave her an admiring glance. Valencia ignored it. The thought flashed to her that he might be

grooming her as an accomplice for future crimes. Certainly, her false pose was better done than Reggie's.

Valencia met Weston and Merlock. The commissioner was busy checking report sheets that concerned last

night's attempted robbery. When Valencia said goodby, Merlock accompanied her to the front door, held it

The girl knew that the masked crooks must be hidden in a small alcove beyond the study. Reggie had been

called into the room by Gaylor. Circumstances had given Valencia her chance to speak, if she wished it. She

realized that Latham Merlock must be one of those who had placed funds in Gaylor's care. He was a victim,

One glance at Merlock's face made her like him. His jovial smile, his courtly bow, showed the attributes that

her uncle admittedly shammed. Merlock was the sort who would listen to quickwhispered words, keep them

How easy it would be to tell him just enough! To keep the cab around the corner, until Merlock came with

Weston. A snap of the commissioner's fingers and her uncle's house would be surrounded. Everett Gaylor,

head of the mysterious crime ring, would be trapped; with him, Reggie Taunton, star accomplice. Four more

It would be a triumph for the law, a repayment of a debt that Valencia owed to friend who had rescued her

All those thoughts drove through Valencia's mind, but amid the whirl was one repressing factor. She had

given her promise to her uncle. Never would she reveal his crimes while she knew that he still lived.

So Valencia met Merlock's twinkling eyes, acknowledged smilingly that she had enjoyed her trip to the

Poconos. Support of Reggie's alibi was another nasty feature of the promise that she hated so much. There

With a last forced smile, the girl shook hands with Merlock, then went out into the night. She was faring forth

By her departure, Valencia Gaylor was forcing The Shadow to a new beginning in his campaign against

LATER that same night, The Shadow returned to New York. From his sanctum, he issued new orders for his

Those orders would have been unnecessary, had The Shadow been able to keep Clyde Burke on the active

list. Clyde would have learned of Valencia's return, for the Classic office had been informed of it as a natural

As it was, The Shadow learned the news next day, when he again appeared as Kent Allard. A meeting with

the police commissioner, along with a chance run of conversation, produced the fact that Valencia had come

home last night. News papers hadn't considered it important enough to mention, since there had been no hint

Beginning with that day, Reggie Gaylor came under the most rigid surveillance, although he did not suspect

Reggie was living at his old apartment. The underground spot where he had carried Valencia was merely a

deluxe hideout that belonged to the crime ring. Confident that all was well, Reggie went his way as usual;

but he kept one eye out for headquarters men, the other for persons who might be agents of The Shadow.

Though The Shadow was reported dead, no one could be sure of it. Moreover, if he had succumbed to the

spike treatment, some of his agents might still be on the warpath. Clyde Burke wasn't the only one who had

Oddly, news that Clyde Burke still lived would have created more commotion in the crime ring than proof of

The Shadow's own reappearance. Crooks felt that they had baffled The Shadow; that previous events showed

With Reggie in the clear, no longer a suspect, tracing past crime would be impossible. Reggie had certainly

squared himself through Valencia's return, but if Clyde's lost testimony could be reclaimed, the case would

That summed the way Reggie considered matters, and his thoughts were the echoes of the master crook who

ruled him. The Shadow recognized that, hence his interest in Reggie's affairs. One point still remained

obscure to The Shadow. That was whether or not Reggie knew the master criminal's real identity.

Whether he did or not, it would be bad policy to try to wring it from him. If Reggie proved ignorant, nothing

would be gained. If he knew the facts, chances were that the supercrook also would be watching him to make

sure he didn't talk. Therefore, any thrust against Reggie would be a warning to the real superfoe, who had so

THE reason that Reggie suspected nothing was because The Shadow divided observation duty between three

Reggie happened to make the acquaintance of a keencut chap named Harry Vincent, who lived at a New

York hotel and had plenty of money. Reggie didn't meet Harry often enough to connect him as one of The

There was Moe Shrevnitz, the cab driver. He made his favorite stand the one outside Reggie's apartment

house. Other drivers had done the same before; they'd hung around there a few weeks, figuring it was a good

enough spot. So Moe passed muster, and picked up plenty of good tips driving Reggie around to different

"Hawkeye," the hunchshouldered little spotter, had been withdrawn from the underworld, to watch Reggie's

moves at other intervals. Hawkeye was a skillful trailer; his skill at that art was surpassed only by The

Shadow's. Hawkeye's reports proved thorough, although his work was limited. There were times when The

The Shadow's own part was a double one. Sometimes he appeared as Allard, at places where Reggie

happened to be. There were also occasions when Reggie's path was traced by a blackcloaked figure, silent

Reggie would have shaken, had he seen that spectral shape. He might have believed it human, but he could

have taken it as a ghost, wandered from an uneasy resting place in a forgotten Connecticut mansion.

FILED in the sanctum, Reggie's past misdeeds made an unenviable list. The Shadow had identified him as

the fingerman in half a dozen robberies. Through a careful check into underworld affairs, the master sleuth

had gained leads to mobsters who were probably triggermen in the crime ring's service.

All links ceased, however, before they reached the master crook. The only way to complete the chain was to

await new crime. That, according to past performance, would necessitate contact between the supercrook and

There wasn't a shred of evidence by which The Shadow could pick Everett Gaylor. Nor did The Shadow

divine that Valencia's trip home had brought her face to face with the head of the crime ring.

While guised as Allard, The Shadow happened to meet Latham Merlock. Remembering that Weston had

mentioned that Merlock was with him at Gaylor's the night of Valencia's return, Allard engaged in

It was Merlock himself who introduced it, without guessing that the inspiration was Allard's. From Merlock's

account, nothing unusual had happened there. His story fitted to a dot with Weston's. Merlock, though,

recalled something that seemed significant. Valencia had seemed quite cold toward Reggie; rather surprising,

That substantiated one theory that The Shadow held; the very one, in fact, that Everett Gaylor and others

wanted him to accept. Presumably, Valencia had shielded Reggie, and had left New York on that account.

She had certainly done that much, but The Shadow was positive that other factors were involved. More than

ever, he wanted a meeting with Valencia. It seemed evident, however, that Reggie didn't know where she had

gone; and Reggie was The Shadow's chief lead to Valencia, as well as to future crime.

On occasions, The Shadow met Everett Gaylor. Always as Allard, he used the same subtle tactics that he had

used with Merlock. Gaylor happened once to speak of Valencia in Allard's presence. He mentioned that he

Valencia, it seemed, had gone on long trips before sometimes to Bermuda or Havana. Gaylor seldom heard

Then, while the surface lay so smooth, The Shadow received information from the depths. It came

Whispers were breathing in the underworld, so softly that they didn't reach the "grapevine telegraph," that

news bureau of crimeland. These whispers were confined strictly to crooks that The Shadow had tabbed as

AGENTS uncovered inklings of them. Cliff Marsland, who served The Shadow in the underworld, had the

first report. Hawkeye, transferred to scumland duty, came through with others. The Shadow, disguised as a

The Shadow always got results when he visited the spots where crime brewed. The frayed cuffs of his khaki

trousers; his grimy, moth gnawed jersey; the peaked cap above one eye of his long, pastydyed face those

Crime was due. A fingerman had flashed the word. The swag was to be jewels. The place somewhere on

Reference to a fingerman was important. It couldn't be Reggie Taunton. He had been watched too closely to

spot anything, or contact the master crook. That proved a fact that The Shadow had long suspected. The

master of crime had let Reggie take the shelf. Other fingerworkers unlisted in The Shadow's files were

Then came the vital day. Those sneaky rumors had persisted. The Shadow had narrowed down the possible

time and places. Beneath the blue light of his sanctum, his own finger lay upon the only name that had not

AMONG the "Four Hundred," Priscilla Ryken was held in high esteem. She was a middleaged widow;

Ryken was her married name. Her Long Island residence was the scene of many house parties, always limited

to a few guests. Even if Reggie Taunton had not been shelved, he could never have crashed a Ryken house

Priscilla Ryken was topping off one of her long house parties with a reception, to be held that night. Since it

was to be a large affair, additional invitations would not be difficult, if properly sought.

The Shadow left his sanctum. He was attired as Allard when he appeared upon the street, for it was daylight.

Allard's watch showed one o'clock. There was still time for lunch with Weston, who usually reached the club

at this hour. Weston, though, wouldn't do alone. Seeking another person as a foil, The Shadow logically

decided to call up one who would have some interest in the crime ring's exposure. He chose Latham Merlock.

The financier gladly accepted Allard's invitation to lunch at the Cobalt Club. When he arrived there, he found

Allard chatting with Weston. That changed the party into a threesome. During lunch, Allard required some

friendly advice regarding investments, which Merlock obligingly gave. That was sufficient pretext for

The real punch came when Weston was ready to go back to his office. Picking up a newspaper that he had

discarded, Allard gave a chance glance at the society page. His interest wakened. He called attention to the

"You'll be there, of course," he said to Weston. "Perhaps I might be enough of a celebrity to rate an added

The commissioner winced. His weakness was his desire to be accepted by high society. He had managed it,

after a fashion; in fact, Weston was well received everywhere. But he was seldom invited to affairs like this

"Put it the other way around, Allard," he suggested. "If you were invited, you could introduce me as the

Allard gestured toward Merlock. Weston voiced approval. Merlock knew Priscilla Ryken; he was the very

man to arrange it. That, though Merlock only half suspected it, was the real reason for the luncheon

"I've been to those receptions," he admitted. "But the last time was a long while ago. Mrs. Ryken constantly

invites more and more persons, once she gets started. But I think the plan would carry more weight if two

persons should call her. One person" Merlock's eyes had their sharp twinkle "for each celebrity."

"Everett Gaylor," replied Merlock. "He frequently accompanies his niece on visits to Mrs. Ryken. Both have

probably been invited to the present reception. But since Everett Gaylor's niece is away "

"Gaylor has declined," Weston filled in the obvious finish. "Call him, Merlock. See if he will alter his

ALLARD watched Merlock call from a telephone booth, while Weston waited expectantly outside. It took a

"It's all arranged," Merlock told Weston. "He didn't want to go at first. But when I told him you requested it,

he decided favorably. He's to introduce you, commissioner. He'll also tell Mrs. Ryken that I shall come in

place of his niece. With that wedge, I can call her and arrange for Allard to accompany us."

Kent Allard's thin lips showed a smile when he left the Cobalt Club. It told nothing, however, of the deep

thoughts behind his inscrutable, hawkish countenance. Those thoughts concerned coming crime. Tonight,

In a sense, it had worked better even than The Shadow realized. Through the measures that he had employed.

THERE was a sizable throng at the Ryken reception, although visitors gained a first impression that the

gathering was small. That was due to the huge proportions of the living room that took up half the ground

The Ryken estate was a show place of Long Island, although the public viewed it only when Mrs. Ryken was

away. At those times, a limited number of visitors were allowed to drive through the grounds and admire the

Family retainers were plentiful, for Mrs. Ryken had kept all who had been in her husband's employ. She had

pensioned off some of the older ones, since Mrs. Ryken was distinctly modern. She didn't like to emphasize

Desire to keep young was why she insisted that everyone call her Priscilla. It was also the reason for her

Her first act, when Everett Gaylor entered, was to ask about "dear Valencia", in a tone that would make one

think that Val had been her school chum. To add to that illusion, she introduced Gaylor to various persons

Priscilla was glad to see Merlock; she showed real cordiality toward Weston and Allard, which gratified the

commissioner immensely. Despite her gushing manner, Priscilla was really a very likable person.

First sight of Priscilla Ryken was important to Kent Allard. It told him something that he had come here to

learn. On gala occasions, Priscilla was noted for her jewels. Tonight, they were conspicuously few. Allard

Recent robberies had worried Priscilla. That was why she had put away the famous Ryken emeralds. They

were locked up with the Austrian tiara and the famous pearl necklace, one of the best matched in existence.

Those and a host of other rare gems had become Priscilla's property after her husband's death.

The gems were in this house, for Priscilla was as changeable in matters of jewelry as in everything else. She

couldn't have lived through a house party without showing off the jewels. The size of the reception had

PROOF of that theory came when Allard stepped close enough to overhear Priscilla's remarks to Weston.

They were standing alone in a corner of the living room. A mahoganyframed mirror gave Allard a reflected

"Yes, the jewels are here," Priscilla undertoned. "You're the police commissioner, Mr. Weston. You should

be able to find them." Then, with a gay motion of her hands, she added: "Guess where!"

"I'd rather not attract attention," objected Weston, seriously. "After all, I'm not here officially, Mrs. Ryken."

"Call me Priscilla. And do guess, commissioner! Not like in those games where I tell you 'hot' or 'cold' when

you're far away or close. Just guess quietly, all during the evening, whenever you feel like it."

"I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong. All in one breath, commissioner. But that will be after the

Weston was to see those gems before the reception was over. For The Shadow had already guessed their

exact location, and knew that crooks would have to invade the living room to get them. Priscilla was

overexpressive with her gestures and glances. She had given the hiding place away while she talked to

The commissioner hadn't noticed it, but Allard had, thanks to the mirror. At the rear of the living room was a

door that led to a smaller room. The latter had no other exit, otherwise Allard would have seen it when he

The windows of the little room were shuttered. Allard had observed that coming along the driveway, when

the headlamps had trained upon that corner of the house. The closed windows had formed a definite contrast

There wasn't a chance that crooks would enter by those shuttered windows. To do so, an inside accomplice

would have to open them; and that didn't fit the crime ring's game. They had their inside man with every job.

Reggie Taunton had demonstrated that. He had covered up his tracks at Gaylor's so well that Valencia's

intervention had been necessary to find him out. It would be similar here. Robbery would be bold, backed by

When crime came, The Shadow would be ready. His purpose, meanwhile, was to spot the inside worker. The

servants wouldn't fit. The crime ring wouldn't use a "finger" who was only good for a single job. The answer

Through judicious inquiry, Allard found out who they were. The group was seven in number; all persons who

WHILE Allard's steady eyes were observing the remaining trio, they were also noting something that formed

an obstacle to crime. That was the activity of the servants. They were like a welldrilled team. Allard counted

From the way their duties overlapped, it became evident that they were taking turns upstairs and around the

house, to make sure that all was well. If Priscilla had arranged that system, she had brains as well as giggles.

If one of those servants should be missed, without due cause, it wouldn't take the others two minutes to know

There was something, though, that none of those watchful servants were going to see. Allard arranged it with

The Shadow's deftness. Standing for a few moments in front of the door to the rear room, he let his hand

Allard left it that way. He strolled off, returned when he saw another guest near the door. He opened

conversation; it turned to his adventures in Guatemala. Others overheard and joined to listen. Allard let

another speaker have the floor. He drew away. Edging behind the group, he watched his opportunity.

When it came, he made a side step, edging the door inward. He was closing it as he turned about within the

The tightening latch made no sound. The Shadow's tiny flashlight glimmered. He didn't look for the wall safe

he was certain was there. Instead, he examined the steelshuttered windows, found them as strong as he

Opening one, The Shadow dropped out to the darkened ground. He closed the shutter, leaving it unbarred

from the inside. Crooks wouldn't bother about those shutters. An open one did not matter.

Guiding himself across the lawn, The Shadow reached a spot fifty yards away, at an exact angle of thirty

degrees. He probed for the nearest clump of shrubbery. Beneath the bushes, he found his hat and cloak. A few

blinks of the flashlight told hiding agents that The Shadow had taken his waiting garb. They had placed it at

Approaching the house again, The Shadow placed the garments near a back door opening onto the hall. The

door was unlocked. The Shadow entered, rejoined the guests. He was still Allard; they hadn't noticed his

Time was getting short. Allard's eyes, occasional in their rove, were keeping the three suspects in view. A

From that moment, The Shadow was concerned only with a single house guest a tall, alluring brunette

PRESUMABLY a member of some banished nobility, Mona was welcome in high social circles. The

Shadow knew the ease of acquiring foreign titles, especially those that had been annulled. He had used phony

Mona had given added credence to her claim of nobility, by putting aside her title. She was never addressed

as a countess, princess, or whatever she presumably happened to have been. That made her democratic; it

Best of all, from the standpoint of her game, Mona Dalgan had money. Therein, she held the same advantage

Mona was wearing a yellow evening gown, with irregular brownish spots. Like her gait, it gave her a

resemblance to a leopard, which was appropriate. For Mona's longlashed eyelids were narrowed. Half

closed, their expression gave a catlike sparkle to her eyes. Her face was roundish, her skin the color of old

One of her creamcolored shoulders supported the strap of the spotted gown. Mona was holding that strap as

"My shoulder brooch," she remarked. "I've lost it somewhere." Then, as Priscilla showed worriment: "It's not

"Of course." Priscilla nodded wisely. "You're not wearing jewels tonight, are you, dear? I had almost

The servant had scarcely been dispatched before Mona showed a piqued expression.

"How stupid of me! The brooch isn't in my room at all! Don't you remember, Priscilla? I showed it to you;

Priscilla sent another servant. Mona thanked her. Holding the strap of the leopard dress, the brunette crossed

the living room. Another servant had just arrived, bringing a tray of glasses. He would have stopped at the

Mona beckoned the servant; she chose a cordial glass, then changed it for another. Other guests were near.

Holding the glass that she had taken, the leopardgowned woman moved to a front corner of the room.

There, against the background of a brightly lighted lamp, she drained the glass. Her other hand, raised to its

Mona Dalgan was the inside worker of the crime ring. She had subtly broken the vigilance of the servants. At

the window she had provided the signal that lurking crooks awaited. Coming from the front of the house,

The smile on Mona's lips showed selfapproval of her cleverness. She couldn't guess that she had nullified

her own tipoff. In scattering the servants, she had opened an unobserved path that any one could take to the

In that tipoff, she had told someone beside criminals that the stage was set for came.

CRIME'S invasion came with a smash. There were three French windows along the livingroom wall. They

burst inward all at once, with shoves that swung them hard against the wall. Flimsy woodwork splintered;

Startled guests turned to see the glisten of revolvers. Each broken window held a roughclad triggerman.

There were growls to "Stick 'em up!" accompanied by gestures from the guns. Startled guests raised their

hands. One didn't respond with enough enthusiasm. A gun nudged in his direction, there was a raspy threat:

"Brushpan" was Commissioner Weston. The thug evidently had reference to Weston's mustache, which

Weston reddened as he hoisted his hands higher. He looked sheepishly for Allard, hoping that his friend

hadn't heard the nickname. It was appropriate enough, for Weston's mustache did have a brushy look.

"Nobody's going to get hurt." A new growl gave that assurance. It came from the hall. "Not unless there's

Three more thugs had entered from the front hall, taking advantage of the living room clatter to open the front

door. There were others, following them. One covered the stairs, trapping the two servants who were coming

from the second floor. Others marched through the living room, carrying a square box with them.

Priscilla Ryken started a screech, when she saw the boxtoting thugs go through the door to the rear room. A

snarl from the hallway silenced her. Priscilla couldn't stop her excited arm shakes. The thugs made allowance

"All right, Fatty" the reference concerned Priscilla's plumpness "the shimmy's a back number, but so are

Priscilla's shakes stopped abruptly. She thought everyone was noticing her. No one was. Guests were looking

IN the little room, the safetappers were still under observation; but they didn't guess it. The Shadow was

watching operations from the ground outside the shuttered window he had previously unlatched. He saw a

flashlight gleam upon the paneled wall. Crooks had no trouble picking the wall safe's location.

Nor did the combination bother them. Their chuckles were audible as they turned the knob. The safe came

open. Jewels glittered in the focused light as the raiders poured them wholesale into a bag. Then came

"We'll blow it from inside. Nobody's goin' to know the difference. Leave the fuse out through the crack."

The charge was set. A slow fuse sputtered. Mobsters went out into the living room and closed the door behind

"We're blowin' the works!" announced one. "So get set for what's comin' an' don't act goofy when it does!"

Inside the little room, The Shadow was working swiftly. He had sprung through the window, whipped open

the wall safe. The fuse fizzed from his hands as he carried a bomblike object toward a fireplace in the

opposite wall. There, The Shadow stowed his dangerous burden, made a quick sweep to the window.

Crouched low, his flashlight came into his fist. He blinked rapid dots and dashes, that could be seen off at a

thirtydegree angle. An interval, and The Shadow repeated the message. He turned to the wall, remained

The blast that shook the paneled room was terrific. The brick wall quaked beside The Shadow's shoulder as

the fireplace rocketed its blaze of bursting flame. Echoes rolled back against the shattered inner wall. Steel

Out in the living room, masked crooks waited during a count of ten. One beckoned toward the door, which

A fierce laugh broke from the darkness of the safe room as a mobster yanked open the unmoored door.

Startled thugs went back almost to their haunches, when a cloaked shape loomed suddenly upon them. That

Steadily, crooks had herded the guests forward, to clear the rear of the living room. The Shadow had

unblocked paths of fire. He was covering the awed crooks in front of him. Shifts of his arms were all he

Odds were formidable, but they were ended before the stunned crooks made a move. The Shadow's laugh

was the signal for his own agents to act. Men sprang to the porch, pitched upon the thugs who were

occupying the front door. Those in the hall were greeted by a sharp order from the front door.

Guns talked as the order came. Those guns were The Shadow's automatics; their tonguing flames scorched

the maddened mobsters who clustered in front of him. The desperate crew was surging for The Shadow. They

Bullets from The Shadow's automatics met them. As they staggered, The Shadow gave assistance to his

agents. The crooks in the front hall had wheeled, to give battle to the few who had challenged them. One thug

had fallen; The Shadow clipped the next. The third made a dive through the rear hall, flinging his gun as he

Two of the French windows were vacant. Their occupants had been promptly overpowered. The third

window the middle one showed a furious struggle. The thug there was battling The Shadow's man

outside. He broke free, that thug; springing into the room, he saw The Shadow. The laugh that drew his

The crook aimed, fired, while a deluge of guests sprang for him. They didn't realize that the hasty aim was

A big .45 did duty a splitsecond later, while the guests were still short of their quarry. The masked crook

flattened as men reached him. His revolver sped from his fist and bounded to the floor.

The Shadow's laugh was sinister, mirthless, in its triumph. Quick justice to the masked invaders had been the

only course. The Shadow had let crime start, to establish proof of the crime ring's methods.

This victory would crimp the game. All that remained would be The Shadow's meeting with the superman of

That meeting was due for immediate moments. Before The Shadow could fade back into the strong room,

SHRIEKS of frightened women filled the blackened living room; needlessly, at first, then with good reason.

A revolver spurted from the center of the room. Shots jabbed for The Shadow's doorway. The marksman who

had sprung from nowhere was determined to down the blackcloaked fighter. It was a duel in the darkness,

He was shooting toward an open target. The Shadow could not risk a response, for his foemen had all the

An automatic spoke from the depths of that little room where the bag of jewels lay. The Shadow's fade had

been successful. His enemy's first shots had missed in darkness. It was The Shadow's turn.

Purposely, he fired high. That shot to the livingroom ceiling was meant to draw his adversary, who could

The crook took the bait. Thinking The Shadow deep within the little room, he headed for the door. He fired

from an angle. The Shadow made reply. Both shots were tests. With a shift, The Shadow awaited another

There was a click as a hammer hit an empty cartridge. The revolver was empty. The Shadow had no target;

his foe no ammunition. The criminal must have paused to wipe off that gun in the darkness, for there was a

short interval. Then the revolver thudded the floor of the living room. The scheming crime master had tossed

The Shadow went out through the shuttered window. He dropped his garb of black. He was in the house,

entering the living room, when the lights came on. The fugitive thug who had found the master switch and

turned off the lights, had fled. Servants had groped downstairs, to turn them on.

Again The Shadow was Kent Allard. He looked for Mona Dalgan. She hadn't budged from that front corner.

She was crouched there with other frightened women. She couldn't have been the one who had used the gun

in the darkness against The Shadow. Commissioner Weston was holding the offending weapon; beside him

The Shadow joined them, to hear Weston's incorrect opinion that the thug who had sprung through the middle

French window and been wounded by The Shadow, had managed those last shots. He couldn't have; nor

could any of the masked band. None were capable of sufficient motion to have covered the distance that the

Nevertheless, Kent Allard nodded his agreement to the commissioner's opinion. It was the thing to do, since

both Gaylor and Merlock had given their nods. The subject was forgotten a few moments later. Priscilla

Ryken had reached the rear room, to raise an enthusiastic shriek. She had found the bag of jewels.

At last, Commissioner Weston pondered wisely; that was, when he saw the little room. There, he observed

the wrecked fireplace, the unscathed wall safe opposite it. It was dawning on him why the burglars had tried

MONA DALGAN had reached the little room. She stared, eyes wide for once, when she saw the wall safe.

"Your gems are here, too, Mona," informed Priscilla. "We have them after all. I said they'd be safe and they

are. Remember, Mona, when I showed you how the combination worked? That proved no one could open the

wall safe. It's burglarproof. Oh, dear" Priscilla gasped as she stared at the wall "they did open it, didn't

Allard's smile was no more than a touch that came to the corners of his straightened lips. It was well that

Weston hadn't overheard Priscilla's chatter. It would have led to the immediate arrest of Mona Dalgan. It was

better that Police Inspector Joe Cardona learned of Mona's part when he came to investigate this case.

Joe would catch it quick enough after he quizzed Priscilla Ryken. By that time, Mona Dalgan would be gone

somewhere unknown to the law. That place would not remain unknown to The Shadow. The supercrook

The Shadow was linking this robbery with the attempt at Gaylor's. Not only had the methods been identical;

there was an added feature that told its own story, a fact more subtle than Mona's complicity. A talk with

The Shadow's analysis was sound, but he had a hunch as well. He was untangling a maze that might account

for the sudden departure of Valencia Gaylor. Somehow, the crime ring had induced her to go to a place where

she wouldn't be easily found. That was the type of place best suited to Mona, too.

The master crook was in this very room. He was desperate; that was why he had risked the duel in the

darkness. He was shrewd, that brain of crime, but his game was finished. He would use the future to clinch

the gains of the past. That was why flight was the one step he could not afford. Therefore, The Shadow could

let the settlement wait. He still wanted the story that Valencia Gaylor could tell.

Guests were leaving. Kent Allard decided to go. He nodded goodnight to Commissioner Weston, then to

In the living room, Kent Allard paused to exchange a hearty, parting handshake with Everett Gaylor.

CEDARVIEW LODGE was a small hotel in a little town some forty miles from New York. The place had

been intended as a resort, hence its location among the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. Financially, the

hotel had been a constant failure, until it had been acquired by a group of New York owners.

Just who those owners were, no one precisely knew. The dapper man who managed the hotel took care of all

financial matters. The place always had a sprinkling of guests; enough, apparently, to make it meet expenses.

Cedarview Lodge was the haven of the crime ring. The manager, a third of the employees, and a few of the

steady guests were a nucleus that controlled the place. When the crime ring's underlings lammed from New

York, they came here provided they looked respectable enough. If not, they went elsewhere.

Crooks became attendants or guests, according to their personal appearance. The manager sorted them

judiciously; so well, in fact, that even a suspicious observer could be lulled at Cedarview Lodge.

Valencia Gaylor had come here. She had liked the place, for it was quiet and gave her the solitude she

wanted. The lodge was only a third filled. Its lobby, lounging rooms and parlors were comfortable, attractive

The bedrooms were plain, but nicely furnished, their only fault the thin partitions between them. The manager

handled that objection by keeping the guests well spaced, so that intervening rooms blocked off noise.

Valencia's trunks had come from New York. She had found a car available at a local garage, a good golf

course a few miles away. Spending most of her days on the links, she hadn't cared about keeping late hours.

The local movie furnished enough evening entertainment; that and the radio. Valencia was glad that

There was no temptation to talk about the crime ring. New York and its problems seemed very distant.

Valencia didn't realize how closely she was watched. She took the vigilance of attendants for courtesy. Close

THE first event that broke the long, pleasant lull was news of the attempted robbery at the Ryken reception.

Valencia hadn't heard the news flash on the radio the night the robbery was staged. Something had gone

wrong with the master set that carried programs through to the guest rooms at the lodge.

Next day, Val hadn't been able to buy a newspaper in town; they had sold out rather early. She had seen one,

though, at the golf course, in the caddy house. There, she had learned the details.

There had been masked raiders, like those who had entered her uncle's home. At Priscilla's, their effort had

been real. They had met with disaster, and Valencia was glad of it. She hoped that this would cure her uncle's

The girl didn't read between the lines. If she had, she would have realized how effectively the crime ring had

Valencia tried to forget the matter. She managed it until the next evening; then, when she entered the hotel's

little dining room, she saw a person that she knew. The new guest was Mona Dalgan.

Newspapers had hinted at an inside job at Ryken's, but the rumor had been squashed. Joe Cardona was

responsible for its suppression. He hadn't been able to find Mona Dalgan after he had quizzed Priscilla

Ryken. The ace inspector was playing his cards close until he did find Mona, for suspicion pointed definitely

She was the one person other than Priscilla who had learned the combination of the wall safe. That wouldn't

have meant a thing, had the safe been blasted, particularly with Mona being a big loser along with Priscilla.

Mona had faked worry about her own jewels, to learn the combination. Stored with Priscilla's gems, Mona's

But even that didn't satisfy the greedy brain who ruled the farflung gang. Mona had insured her jewels to

THAT wasn't the story Mona told Valencia. According to Mona, last night's ordeal had made her a nervous

wreck. She'd wanted to get away from New York, to the nearest place where crime wouldn't be. Someone had

recommended Cedarview Lodge, so she had put her jewels in a bank vault and had come directly here.

Criminals like Mona Dalgan were capable of double purposes. Mona wasn't merely hiding from the law. She

had been delegated to another purpose. She was here to pump Valencia, if that proved possible.

More than ever, Valencia's silence was needed. If Mona, a friend and near victim of a robber, wasn't able to

make Valencia talk, no one would be. Mona began those tactics subtly, soon after dinner.

She said that New York society was stirred with dread of the crime ring; that mobsters had wanted to deal

murder out at the Ryken mansion. Only luck had prevented a wholesale slaughter of the guests, according to

Valencia heard all that with firmpressed lips, under the feline gaze of Mona's narrowed, observant eyes.

Mona let the subject drift when they went out to the lobby, for other guests were present. Some weren't

In fact, one of the neutral guests had arrived on the same train as Mona. He had passed muster with the

No one would have recognized Kent Allard in the guise that The Shadow wore. Allard's hawkish features

were thin, almost masklike. His face actually added to the impression of his tallness.

The guest at the lodge had a fuller face; its widened contour lessened the hawklike effect. The puttied

The Shadow had registered under the name of Henry Arnaud. His build seemed heavier than Allard's. That

was due both to his posture and his attire. He looked inches shorter than Allard, another illusion that covered

HENRY ARNAUD, seated placidly in the dining room; later, in the lobby, had overheard snatches of the chat

The pair went to the local movie. When they returned, Mona visited Valencia's room. The radio was on, so

neither heard the sound of a door that opened in the hall. Even amid silence, they would probably have failed

Close to the thin partition, The Shadow heard the abrupt ending of the radio as Mona pulled the plug. Then

came Mona's tone, a persuasive contralto. It was low, but it carried farther than Mona supposed.

"I can't forget it, Val," she said. "That terrible trouble at Priscilla's! I'm not the only one whose nerves were

"If you could only have seen those villains!" Mona's tone indicated horror. "They threatened all of us! Those

shots afterward in the darkness really, Val, I expected something horrible when the lights came on."

"Everywhere around. And one, in particular, I surely expected to see dead. He was closest of all. Your own

"It's terrible," expressed Mona, bitterly, "to think that there may be people respectable persons who could

give the police the facts they need. They are parties to the crimes, because of their silence."

"You mean that there are such people? The police are sure of it. They claim that the crime ring is powerful

"They are fools if they are. The law could protect them if they spoke. Just think of it, Val. A few words,

THERE was a pause. The Shadow could picture the whirl of Valencia's mind, though he did not recognize

her precise thoughts. Valencia was recalling those moments when she could have spoken to Latham Merlock

That same opportunity had come again, but it was a dozen times simpler. Mona Dalgan was another person

"You may be right, Mona," declared Valencia. Her voice had a forced steadiness. "There may be persons who

know, who could talk. But there may be reasons, other than fear, to keep them silent."

"Yes. After all, Mona, circumstances alter cases. There are such things as promises, too."

Mona started a new objection. Valencia interrupted it. Her calm had returned. Coolly, she told Mona that this

"Uncle Everett has done so much for me," declared Valencia. "I hate to think of him in danger, like you

mentioned. As long as he lives, I shall try to repay his kindness. Should he die, then I shall make my own

The radio began again. The Shadow edged from the room next door. Valencia had withstood Mona's

persistence, but it had taken a strong mental struggle. From Valencia's statements, The Shadow had

She was shielding her uncle, not Reggie. That meant that Valencia had identified Everett Gaylor as the master

crook who ruled the crime ring. The Shadow could picture her last meeting with her uncle, but that past scene

Perhaps Valencia would talk if she met someone to whom she owed an equal obligation. The Shadow himself

was such a person. He had saved Valencia's life. It would be better, though, to leave that until a later day.

The Shadow had good reason for that decision. He knew of a final measure that would serve if all others

failed. That, however, could be kept for an emergency. The Shadow preferred, however, to close the

meshwork slowly. His decision was to change upon the morrow. Emergency was due. Like past episodes in

IT was the next evening. Henry Arnaud was seated placidly in the lobby of Cedarview Lodge. Valencia

Gaylor had gone out for a stroll with Mona Dalgan. But the night was muggy, so The Shadow expected their

It was plain that Mona had tried new pressure, with decreasing results. Probably she would give up the effort

to make Valencia talk. If she didn't, Valencia would begin to suspect Mona's real part.

Meanwhile, The Shadow had decided to wait another day before he began his own endeavor. He foresaw that

Valencia would preserve her silence, even if he questioned her, unless some new factor could be introduced.

The Shadow had one plan along that line: to reveal Mona's complicity, as a starter.

Even that wouldn't impress Valencia without evidence. Therefore, The Shadow awaited copies of

confidential police reports. Again, he was hampered by Clyde Burke's enforced absence from service. The

Matters were quiet, however, in New York. Even Reggie Taunton was going his way unperturbed. The

Shadow could afford to wait while everyone was marking time. All that could change the case was an

Valencia and Mona were just coming into the lobby. The radio was beginning the broadcast of a news

"Flash!" The voice from the radio raised its pitch. "The waters of Long Island Sound have yielded gruesome

evidence that may be the missing link to the mysterious gunfire heard, two weeks ago, upon the Connecticut

"The evidence is the body of a man, sewn between two gunny sacks. Police say that the corpse was wrapped

in anchor chains and thrown overboard. The marks are still visible on the body. The man was shot right

The Shadow had heard enough. Those last words would tell the crime ring that it wasn't Clyde's body in the

sacks. Maybe criminals would check to learn if the story's details were correct. If they did, they would

Reggie and his pals hadn't bound the chains securely. The wash of the Sound's currents had twisted the body

loose. Ordinarily, crooks would regret their negligence. This time, it would please them. Guessing that Clyde

Particularly so, because of The Shadow's reappearance that night at Priscilla Ryken's. This news of the body

from the Sound would certainly cause Reggie's flight, perhaps that of the crime ring's master as well.

There was only one possible way to hold matters. That was to burst a bombshell as startling as the one that

VALENCIA was writing a letter at a table in the lobby. Mona had gone into the library to read a book.

Half a block away, The Shadow entered a combination store and filling station. The proprietor was outside

putting gas and oil into a tourist's car. He wasn't on hand to hear Arnaud make a longdistance call to New

It took five minutes to complete the call. The store owner was still outside, putting air in the car's tires. The

Shadow didn't have to lower his tone, which was fortunate, as the connection was a poor one. In Arnaud's

Seven minutes of the WNX program had passed. Five more followed. Only three remained. Arnaud hadn't

returned to the lobby. He had come back to a rear door of the hotel, had reached his room by a stairs that

"Flash! Everett Gaylor, big merger magnate, met sudden death tonight at Newark Airport. Unnoticed as he

crossed in front of a lowbuilt speed plane, he was struck by its whirling propeller blade. Gaylor intended to

take an airliner for New Orleans, to arrange a Gulf Coast shipping merger of some magnitude "

From the writing desk, Valencia was staring toward the radio. Her face showed a mingling of startled

emotions. Horror was tinged with bitter memory; grimness, with relief. Valencia came slowly to her feet, her

Mona came from the library. Anxiously, she stopped Valencia. Neither saw the cloaked form that stood

"I must pack at once." Valencia was firm. "I'm going to New York, Mona to see the police commissioner."

"To tell the truth about my uncle. I had to keep a promise, Mona a promise not to tell. But that was only

while he lived. He" Valencia choked "my uncle was the man who ran the crime ring!"

Breaking away, Valencia hurried up the stairs; her eyes were cast down toward the steps, but dimming tears

The Shadow stepped away as she arrived. Valencia went blindly toward her room. The Shadow followed.

DOWNSTAIRS, Mona was speaking to the manager. Only one other guest was in the lobby; a bellboy was

"We'll let her go to New York." Mona stated. "That was the order. It means the finish of the racket."

"The thing was soured, anyway," interposed the manager. "This can't hurt us. You know how well the chief

"Not a link in between," assured Mona "We're safe. Maybe" Mona was thinking of her own part, and

In her room, Valencia was trying to pack a suitcase. A voice from the doorway stopped her. Valencia

remembered that strange, whispered tone. She turned; her blurred eyes made out the blackcloaked shape of

"You've heard!" gasped Valencia. "You know everything! But there's so much that I can tell. Perhaps "

"I need your testimony," toned The Shadow. "There will be time for details while we are on our way to New

Valencia forgot the suitcase. She joined The Shadow at the doorway. He halted her suddenly, before they

could turn toward the rear stairs. A telephone was tingling in the lobby. The manager answered it.

Words were brief. The receiver clattered to the desk. The Shadow heard the manager's hoarse voice:

"That was Reggie Taunton! Calling from New York. Everett Gaylor isn't dead. The news was a hoax! Grab

"She's got to talk!" snapped the dapper manager. "After what she told us. If we try to shut her up, she'll know

Footsteps were already scuffling; crooks were coming up the front stairs. Valencia's fists were tightened; she

wanted to stay with The Shadow, to aid him as she could. The Shadow whispered for her to stay where she

With a sweep, he reached the stairs. At that instant, Valencia heard sounds from the rear flight of steps.

Attackers were arriving from two directions. Breathlessly, Valencia hoped that The Shadow could fight as

THE SHADOW was quite capable of such battle. He took swift measures to divide the attack. Reaching the

front stairs, he sprang straight downward. His laugh gave mockery as he met the drive from the lobby.

Three crooks were coming, headed by the manager. They gripped revolvers, but they never used them.

Lunging as he gave his taunt, The Shadow met them headon upon the steps. His fists sledged automatics.

One crook a fake bellhop took the first blow. The second a pretended guest received the next.

The dapper manager had flattened. As the men floundered above him, he scrambled down the steps. Near the

bottom, he aimed his gun upward, thinking that the senseless, rolling bodies would shield him. That crook's

finger had its trigger hold; his aim was good. The Shadow's trigger tug happened to come sooner.

A bullet in the chest took the dapper man and his gun rolled from his fist, unfired.

Attackers on the back stairs had heard The Shadow's laugh. They were later than the others; that was why

The Shadow left them until last. His timely laugh had made them hesitate, for they had heard it as a weird

taunt from darkness. Then the report of The Shadow's gun had given them encouragement. They were at the

The new crew numbered three. One saw Valencia, pointed as the girl dodged into her room. The crook started

in that direction, but he went alone. The Shadow's laugh had come again, in the very ears of the others.

The Shadow let the pair fire. He dropped as they tugged their triggers. The crooks shouted their glee; they

thought they had sent him rolling down the front stairs. They were wrong. The Shadow had dropped for the

His automatics tongued together from the very edge of the top step. Crooks took bullets simultaneously.

Their lunges turned to sprawly dives. Toppling, they pitched past The Shadow's shoulders, to join the victims

IT worked as The Shadow wanted. The last thug had stopped at Valencia's door, to take a quick look back.

He couldn't resist it, after his pals had shouted their false belief of triumph.

Instead of the other crooks. the last man saw The Shadow. Swinging viciously, he fired while his gun was

That bullet ricocheted from the wall. The Shadow's shot, fired almost instantly, stabbed true. It wasn't the

only bullet that the wouldbe killer took. There was another shot from Valencia's room. The girl's .22 clipped

The Shadow's tone was a command for Valencia to join him. Looking to the lobby, Valencia saw Mona. The

catlike woman had snatched up the manager's gun, was aiming it toward the stairs, trying to sight The

A sinister laugh startled Mona. A looming muzzle kept her from raising the revolver that she held. She

Mona didn't complete her term for Valencia. In from the doorway of the lobby came a pair of local

constables, attracted by the gunfire. The Shadow had seen them; that was why he waited.

They seized Mona, wrested away her gun. The Shadow knew that they would hold her. She would have

plenty to explain, for The Shadow was already guiding Valencia down the back stairs.

Outside the kitchen door, The Shadow hurried the girl to a wooded path behind the hotel. His flashlight

picked their course; after a quarter mile, they reached an open field. There, Valencia saw a waiting plane a

The ship was The Shadow's wingless autogiro. It had been flown here by one of The Shadow's agents, and

When they had boarded it, the agent pressed the starter. Blades spun; from the side, Valencia saw the ground

shoot downward. Facing a slight slope, the flying windmill had made an almost vertical takeoff.

While the motor roared, Valencia huddled by the light of the instrument panel. There, she was writing the

details that The Shadow wanted. By the time the ship reached Manhattan, The Shadow would have the girl's

That testimony would complete crime's picture. Disaster loomed for a master crook whose ring of followers

EVERETT GAYLOR sat rigid at his desk, his gaunt face streaked with long, grim lines. His hand was resting

on the telephone. The call that he had just received was a serious one. It was from Police Commissioner

Ralph Weston. The official had wanted to know what Gaylor knew about the death hoax that had gone across

Gaylor had blurted his complete ignorance of the matter, but that didn't help. Weston was coming over,

anyway, on the grounds that Gaylor might be in danger. That was a pretext, and Gaylor knew it. Why Weston

had suddenly developed such shrewdness, was something that the merger man couldn't figure.

The answer lay with Joe Cardona. The ace inspector had received a call from Burbank. In the same

convincing way that he had given the false information to WNX, Burbank had told Cardona that it was

imperative for the police commissioner to visit Gaylor. That, though Burbank didn't state it, was an order

After a short spell of motionless, Gaylor picked up the telephone. He dialed Reggie's apartment, was

rewarded by hearing the young man's voice. Reggie wasn't as smoothtoned as usual. He talked excitedly.

"All right, Reggie! I understand..." Gaylor was regaining his selfcontrol. "I could not wait for you to call

"Yes. That's why I can't leave without some sensible reason... I didn't intend to take a trip at all, but I can't

risk remaining here... No, no! We can't depend upon it that Valencia has not yet heard the false news..."

Gaylor paused to listen. Reggie had steadied; the words from the receiver were coming with a purr. Gaylor's

"An excellent suggestion, Reggie," he said. "If I can reach Latham Merlock, he will certainly do... You are

right. Merlock has been urging me to take that trip to Duluth, to close the Great Lakes merger... Yes, I may be

Gaylor hung up. He waited a few impatient moments, then dialed Merlock's number. The financier was at

home. Gaylor talked about the merger, falsely reminded Merlock that the Duluth trip would be tonight. He

Merlock agreed. There wasn't a word spoken about the radio hoax. Apparently, Merlock hadn't learned of it.

That wouldn't matter. It had no bearing on the Duluth trip, except, perhaps, to support Gaylor's coming

Stepping to the big hall, Gaylor bawled for servants to start packing his suitcases. They hurried to the task.

Back in his study, Gaylor looked over travel schedules. There were no planes with direct connections for

Duluth at this late hour. Gaylor decided to leave by train instead, stopping en route at Cleveland.

He called Grand Central Terminal, made his reservations. That was barely completed when the doorbell rang.

Gaylor answered it himself, since the servants were busy. The visitors were Weston and Cardona.

THE commissioner wanted to learn about the radio hoax. He persisted that there must be something in it.

Gaylor assured him there was not. When Weston weakened, Cardona took up the argument.

He asked one question that worried Gaylor. Cardona wanted to know when the merger magnate had last

Gaylor produced a letter, let Cardona read it. The letter was postmarked Norfolk, Virginia; henchmen at

Cedarview Lodge had forwarded it down there to be mailed unknown to Valencia. The letter was brief,

almost formal. Valencia had dated it two days ahead of the postmark. A sharp suspicion glimmered from

"You'll pardon me, gentlemen" Gaylor turned hastily, to open his safe "but I am leaving tonight for

"That was what the hoax stated, I believe," returned Gaylor. He had the safe open, was rummaging through it.

"The only correct statement in that announcement was the fact that I intended a trip."

Cardona made one of his hunchy deductions. The hoax said that Gaylor had been killed. That was a lie. It had

represented that Gaylor had business in New Orleans. Another lie. It had reported that Gaylor was starting a

That method of adding things together frequently put Cardona on a false track, but he generally checked his

figures afterward. He was able to do that tonight. From all that Cardona could see. Gaylor had made his

decision for departure within the last few minutes. The hasty preparations were a proof.

Cardona summed it up that Everett Gaylor was running away from the law. The ace resolved to sit tight, and

"It must be Merlock," he announced. "Would you mind answering it, inspector? The servants are busy."

IT wasn't Latham Merlock at the door. Instead, Cardona found Reggie Taunton. That instantly increased

Cardona's suspicions. He had given Reggie a clean bill of health a while ago; but it looked shady, seeing the

Gaylor covered Reggie's arrival rather well. He gave Reggie the letter from Valencia, saying that he knew it

would interest him. That, Gaylor intimated, was the reason that he had called Reggie over here.

Cardona was still unconvinced. The doorbell rang again; this time, it was Merlock. He came in briskly, and

his arrival shook Cardona's theories. Merlock talked with Gaylor, asking him about the Duluth business.

"Let's see, Merlock. It was yesterday, wasn't it, when I said that I intended to leave tonight?"

"We talked about Duluth," replied Merlock. "You said that you intended to go there as soon as possible."

"And I couldn't go last night because of a banquet. That made tonight my choice. I mentioned, didn't I, that I

"Yes. It must be settled before I go along to Duluth. I am taking the Cleveland sleeper. A few hours in that

The matter was thus settled. Weston arose, ready to leave. Cardona managed to hold back. He did it by

That worked well, for Merlock had some thanks to extend. After the Long Island excitement, Weston had

favored some friends with permits to carry revolvers. Merlock was one of them, and he was highly grateful.

It was a fine one, with an engraved handle that brought Cardona's admiration. The gun was a .32, equipped

with stubnosed barrel that made it inconspicuous in Merlock's pocket. When he showed how neatly it

nestled there, Merlock had the pleased grin of a boy with a new air rifle. Meanwhile, Reggie Taunton was

REGGIE had been a remote witness to the affray at Cedarview Lodge. The crook who acted as manager of

the hotel had left the receiver off the hook, in his excitement. Reggie had heard the shooting over the open

There was a chance a strong one that Valencia was free and on her way to New York. The threat against

her life was sufficient provocation for her to break her promise. When she arrived, she would tell all she

knew. But Cardona's delay couldn't hold things long enough. Not according to Reggie's calculation.

If The Shadow sent Val by air, she would require at least fifteen minutes to reach Newark Airport, the nearest

landing spot. It would be twentyfive minutes at best from there to Gaylor's. That made forty minutes

Had Reggie known that The Shadow used an autogiro, he would have allowed fifteen minutes more. Giros

lacked the speed of other planes. One might require a full thirty minutes to cover the fortyodd miles from

A telephone call from the airport wouldn't help Valencia. Gaylor would spike it easily. If the girl tried to

reach the commissioner, she would be blocked again. Her only course would be a direct trip to the house. A

The clock on Gaylor's desk showed that just half an hour had passed since Reggie had made his call to

Cedarview Lodge. Gaylor had finished gathering his papers. He was ready to shake hands and say goodby.

Reggie had ordered a cab to wait outside. He could hear the voices of the servants upstairs. They had finished

Valencia's cause was lost. Her time was ten minutes short. Reggie arose, ready to accompany Gaylor to the

Reggie was jittery, these last impatient minutes. His surface was a mere gloss; beneath it, his nerves were

A stir in the hallway caused Reggie to dart a jerky look. He saw the sight that drove him berserk. Standing in

the doorway was Valencia, arrived in some impossible fashion that Reggie couldn't understand. That wasn't

all that worried Reggie. He could tell that she was going to talk, to say far more than she was supposed to

Valencia had learned added facts from The Shadow, and Reggie realized it. With a wild shout, he let all

EVERETT GAYLOR reached into the safe that he was closing. He was too slow to get the gun he wanted.

The ace didn't bother with Reggie. Commissioner Weston's hand was coming from his pocket; Joe thought

Weston was merely reaching for a handkerchief. He'd started the move before Reggie went wild. It was

Latham Merlock who provided the needed intervention. He whipped out the stubbynosed revolver, gave the

Merlock was close beside Reggie. The crazed crook was brandishing his gun, aiming it nowhere. Before

As the sleek criminal fell, Everett Gaylor slumped into a chair, letting his own revolver slip from listless

Everett Gaylor was ready for the accusations by which his own niece would expose him as the crime ring's

VALENCIA entered the study unarmed. She had come with confidence, for behind her stood The Shadow.

His gun hand had been ready, in case the cause went wrong. No dangerous moves had threatened, except the

thrust whereby Merlock had disposed of Reggie. That doom was deserved. The Shadow had not halted it.

From the hallway, obscured by darkness of the opposite wall, The Shadow watched Valencia's cool entry. In

her hand, the girl clutched folded papers. They were answers that The Shadow had written, after she had

The Shadow had supplied them before the plane reached Manhattan. He had not headed for Newark, as

The wingless plane had cut the time to thirty minutes by a straight flight for New York itself. The Shadow's

agent had picked the block where this brownstone house stood. He had let the ship settle to a vertical

Everett Gaylor himself had provided the landing spot that The Shadow needed for Valencia's lastminute

The girl faced her uncle. Gaylor looked up. His eyes set steadily toward the girl, as though staring through

"You know the truth, Valencia, because I told you." Gaylor needed no prompting from his niece. "I was the

head of the crime ring. My wealth is the profit from its robberies. I staged the burglary here to make myself

"You believed that I was through with crime. Perhaps" Gaylor chewed his lips "perhaps that is why you

have broken your word. I do not take you to task. The fault was mine. My game is ended. I am willing to pay

For long moments, listeners stood amazed. Their living forms were as motionless as the dead body of Reggie

"Reggie was my accomplice. I had him fake the robbery here, while I was away. That" Gaylor turned to

Weston "was why Valencia disappeared. She recognized Reggie when he was here. He was forced to

Weston blinked. He couldn't understand Valencia's first return to the house. Listlessly, Gaylor explained the

scene that night in the study before the commissioner had arrived. Weston gaped at Merlock.

"I do," rejoined Merlock, soberly. "I realize something else." He turned to Valencia. "I understand, at last,

CARDONA was standing beside the desk, his revolver in one hand, handcuffs in the other. He was ready to

Cardona refrained. Valencia faced her uncle. Steadily, she spoke, without glancing at the notes that The

"You have confessed," said Valencia. "Therefore, you can tell us more. The parts that others played. Others

Abruptly, Gaylor shook his head. He didn't want to talk. He grumbled something about not being a squealer.

"You can answer some questions, though," persisted Valencia. "Matters that concerned this house. Tell us

"I shall tell you," resumed Valencia. "He stole my key, had a duplicate made. That was where he slipped. I

realized what he had done. I came downstairs suspecting crime. Wasn't it odd" Valencia concentrated on

her uncle "that you didn't take the simpler method of letting Reggie make a duplicate of your own key?"

"About the safe," she insisted. "You said that you gave Reggie the combination. Why didn't you give him all

of it? He went so far, then had to start again. No, it wasn't nervousness. I saw the way that Reggie worked.

"Bevlin's death, too. You claimed it was an accident. Knowing that crime was due, why did you send Bevlin

back here from Cleveland? Not to get rid of him because he knew too much. He probably knew nothing. If

Gaylor's fists, clenched, were thumping the desk nervously. He couldn't manage to look in Valencia's

"Why did Reggie have to come ahead to talk to you," demanded Valencia, "on the night when he brought me

here from the Connecticut hideout? He could easily have arranged that interview, long beforehand. Tell me,

too, why masked men were standing in this room, armed to greet me. Two were already with me. They

"No, no!" gulped Gaylor, at last. "Don't ask me any more. I won't I can't answer!"

The girl was around the desk, her arm flung across her uncle's shoulder. Gaylor choked, as his head settled on

her arm. Triumphantly, Valencia faced the witnesses. Her eyes carried a righteous sparkle.

"Don't you see the truth?" she queried. "My uncle lied. Not to save himself, but to save me. I was the

problem. I couldn't be quieted. Reggie had to return me, or Uncle Everett would have started a search for me.

So Reggie talked with the real head of the crime ring. After that, Reggie followed orders."

EVERETT GAYLOR raised his head. The truth was out; he had nothing to gain by holding silence. He faced

"Reggie told me his part in crime," spoke Gaylor. "But he did not name the man he served. Reggie put the

case plainly. It would be death for Valencia, if she spoke. I knew that the threat was real. I pleaded not to let

"Reggie gave his master's terms. I was to take the blame for crime, so far as Valencia was concerned. It

served crooks doubly, I suppose; for all of them Reggie excepted thought me to be their real leader after

"I was thinking only of Valencia. I posed as the criminal I was supposed to be. Armed men were here to slay

us both, if I spoke one false word. I told Valencia to go away, but I had no idea where she went. The real

"I knew only that it would be their policy to keep Valencia alive, to use her against me if that proved

necessary. Meanwhile, my own life continued, because Valencia had promised not to speak while I lived.

Tonight's hoax ruined the arrangement. I called Reggie. He said that if I fled, Valencia could say all she

Weston stared at Cardona. The ace inspector didn't need a hunch. He thrust the handcuffs into his own

pocket, put his gun away. Joe Cardona was one hundred percent for Everett Gaylor.

"One question," asked Weston. "Why didn't you talk, Gaylor, when I came here? Your niece was still

"The gunmen were in there," he said. "Your life was at stake, as well as mine, commissioner. Merlock's life,

"I can simply repeat one statement that I made before. Reggie Taunton, alone, knew the man's real name.

"And Reggie Taunton" Weston's tone was rueful "is dead. I think that he would have talked."

"The night that I was here, commissioner," she said, "I might have talked. Just before I left the house, I was

away from the study. I was in the hall, and even Reggie wasn't with me. Suppose the master crook had been

"Of course," agreed Valencia, "and if I'd tried to send a message for help say, by a taxi driver what then?"

"Exactly!" Valencia turned again to Weston. "Only, I didn't talk, commissioner. The master crook knew that I

"One moment, Miss Gaylor," insisted Weston. "It was Merlock who saw you to the door that night."

"Of course!" Valencia's smile was grim. "And it was Merlock who killed Reggie, a few minutes ago!"

IN the stunned silence, Joe Cardona was the first to look for Merlock. The portly man was at the hallway

door, but his features were no longer jovial. They were threatening, like the revolvers in his fists; for, to

"Smart work, Miss Gaylor," sneered the supercrook as he held the room covered. "But you didn't figure it

yourself. The Shadow was the brain behind you. He had the answer out at Priscilla Ryken's. We'd handled the

"Sometimes Reggie did the finger work. Sometimes Mona Dalgan handled it. But we'd added a new wrinkle.

I had some of my own money, here at Gaylor's, when we tried real robbery here. I'd spotted most of the safe

"It worked so well, we did the same at Ryken's. Mona parked her jewels; she took the combination, too. The

Shadow saw through it. That was bad, for it made him suspect me. That's why we kept good care of our one

"That confession through your niece still had its strong points. Unfortunately, The Shadow broke into it.

He had the right trail, so the false one didn't fool him. Only, The Shadow isn't here. If The Shadow "

Blackness seemed to enshroud Merlock like a background of death. With it the master criminal felt a

coldness that could signify his doom. It was the icy pressure of a gun muzzle hard against his neck. A shiver

passed down Merlock's arms, reached his fingers, to numb them. Revolvers thudded from the crook's hands.

The Shadow had changed Merlock's triumph into a confession of the man's own guilt.

THREE seconds later, The Shadow wheeled suddenly away. A clatter at the front door was the cause. In from

the night shoved the last members of Merlock's band of triggermen. Their chief had summoned them to

The Shadow wheeled across the hall, away before the mobsters could fire. Their guns spurted too late; his

Quick shots crippled the last who dived. The Shadow reached the side door, pounced suddenly upon another

There wasn't a sound from the study. Regaining the front hall, The Shadow saw the reason. Joe Cardona was

Merlock, stooping for his own revolvers, had received the first fusillade from the front door. The Shadow's

sudden fade had cleared the path. The master crook's own trigger crew had downed him with bullets in the

Standing with her uncle, Valencia Gaylor heard the solemn laugh that came from the front door. It was The

Shadow's parting tone of triumph, that marked the final chapter of the crime ring's reign.

There was another token, however, that came later, while Everett Gaylor still stared at the crumpled form of

That was the roar of an autogiro, ascending from the space beside the house. It faded rapidly to a faint thrum.

High in the night, the autogiro hovered above the glowing carpet that formed Manhattan Island. The Shadow,