DOOM ON THE HILL......................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. THE SHORT ROAD .........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE LONE HOUSE ........................................................................................................4

CHAPTER III. NEW MYSTERY...........................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW LEARNS...........................................................................................10

CHAPTER V. THE SHADOW ARRIVES ...........................................................................................17

CHAPTER VI. NEW PERSONS ENTER............................................................................................23

CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW AT WORK .......................................................................................28

CHAPTER VIII. CORPUS DELICTI...................................................................................................32

CHAPTER IX. THE SHADOW'S RETURN ........................................................................................37

CHAPTER X. THE SHADOW LISTENS............................................................................................42

CHAPTER XI. PATHS TO THE HILL................................................................................................47

CHAPTER XII. DEATH ON THE HILL ..............................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIII. THE SECOND BULLET..........................................................................................53

CHAPTER XIV. WORD SPREADS....................................................................................................56

CHAPTER XV. IN FROM NEW YORK ..............................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVI. SPIKE MAKES PLANS...........................................................................................65

CHAPTER XVII. MOVES BEGIN .......................................................................................................69

CHAPTER XVIII. FOES IN THE DARK............................................................................................73

CHAPTER XIX. FOES IN THE LIGHT..............................................................................................77

CHAPTER XX. CHANCE BULLETS.................................................................................................79

CHAPTER XXI. MEN FROM THE DARK .........................................................................................82

CHAPTER XXII. THE BIG SHOT .......................................................................................................84

CHAPTER XXIII. WEALTH RESTORED ..........................................................................................88

The fillingstation attendant asked the question as he was replacing the cap on the gasoline tank of a trim

coupe. The owner of the car, standing with a fivedollar bill in his hand, gave a nod as his response.

"Past eight o'clock now," remarked the gas man, hanging the hose on the standard. "You'll be lucky if you

"My calculation was two thirty," responded the motorist, as he followed the attendant into the service station.

"Twenty miles more along the superhighway; then turn right along the Interstate Trail. Traffic is fairly heavy;

"That's the way most of 'em go through," observed the attendant, as he pounded the keys on the cash register.

"In fact, that's the way I usually advise 'em to go. But I can give you a tip that'll cut off twenty miles."

"Not when they're dry. That's why I'm giving you the tip. There hasn't been a drop of rain in this county

during the past three weeks. You take this route I'm showing you and I guarantee you won't have to drop

The attendant unfolded a road map on the desk. He spread it flat and used a pencil to mark the location of this

filling station upon the superhighway. The map showed the broad road running in a red line that crossed the

With his pencil, the attendant pointed out a diagonal road that was indicated by two thin lines. It formed a

connecting link, cutting across from one main road to the other. The motorist nodded as he saw the obvious

"One and twotenths miles," informed the attendant. "That's all you'll have to go before you strike the short

cut. It's a dirt road; but solid as rock. You won't even kick up dust along it. A great bet, when it's dry."

Running his pencil along the short road, the attendant marked an X. The motorist leaned forward with

interest. His face showed in the light above the table. A keeneyed, cleancut fellow in his early thirties, this

chap displayed vigor and selfconfidence. The attendant happened to glance up from the map. He grinned.

"I was going to tell you that this is a lonely sort of road," he stated. "But I don't think that would worry a

fellow like you. All I'm warning you against is this spot I've put the X on. A grade crossing and a mighty

mean one. You can spot it though, if you're looking for it. The road twists and runs along with the track; then

"I'll be on the lookout," said the motorist, quietly. "What railroad line is it?"

"Yeah. A freight along about nine; a local comes the other way right after that. The Union Limited blows

through along about midnight; then comes the Dairy Express, into New York. More freights after that."

"Nine o'clock," mused the motorist, as he picked up the map and received his change. "I ought to hit that

THE motorist returned to his coupe. Half a minute later, his car rolled away from the filling station. Two

minutes after that, the coupe slowed its pace while the driver, checking by his speedometer, began to watch

Spying the turnoff, the motorist swung away from the superhighway. The coupe rolled smoothly along a

solid, wellpacked road. The speedometer arrow moved up to the fiftymileanhour mark.

As his car purred rhythmically forward, the driver focused his gaze straight into the glaring path of the

headlight. Though his eyes were on the road, his thoughts were far away. He had remembered the

fillingstation man's admonition regarding the grade crossing; he would watch for the danger point

automatically when he arrived at the twist in the road. For the present, he had time to devote to speculation.

New York before morning. That was an important goal. For this young man who was speeding eastward was

engaged in a service which could not be put aside. His name was Harry Vincent. He was a secret agent of a

To the world at large, The Shadow was a mysterious master who battled crime. A dweller in darkness, a

supersleuth who could follow unknown trails, The Shadow was a fighter who had shattered hordes of

crookdom. Public and police believed that The Shadow's headquarters lay in New York; but it was also

rumored that his hand reached everywhere that the menace of crime might bring it.

To Harry Vincent, The Shadow was a patient but exacting chief. The Shadow had saved Harry from death on

more than one occasion. He had provided his trusted agent with funds and comfortable surroundings; in

There were times when The Shadow's ceaseless battles became the work of a lone hand. During these

periods, Harry Vincent was free to journey. Though he welcomed these occasions, Harry never felt regret

when he returned to New York. The service of The Shadow offered thrills and adventure which intrigued

Messages from The Shadow came from various sources. Harry was a member of a small but highlytrained

group of workers. Like the others, he did not know the identity of The Shadow. Ten days ago, the quiet voice

of an agent named Burbank had informed Harry that he could leave New York. This message had come over

Harry had gone home to Michigan. Yesterday morning, he had received a telegram from an investment

broker named Rutledge Mann. That message had referred to securities; to Harry it had meant that he must be

back in New York within fortyeight hours. Harry had set out promptly from the little town of Colon.

New York! New adventure! Harry's mind was considering past episodes when his eyes saw a sharp turn to

the right. This was the danger spot. Harry slackened speed and guided his car around the bend. As the road

turned crazily upward to the left, he shoved the car into second and approached the grade crossing.

All clear. The coupe jounced across the tracks; then down the other side. A sharp turn to the right; then a

curve to the left. Harry stepped on the accelerator as he approached a grade ahead. This was hilly country.

Easy curves required careful driving, but did not greatly hamper speed. The contour of the road became

intriguing to Harry as soon as he had passed the railway crossing. The thick darkness outside the path of the

Each curve betokened adventure. At one turn, a dirt road cut in from the right. At another, the whiteness of an

abandoned quarry loomed ghostlike on the left. As the road twisted lazily along the side of a sloping,

halfwooded hill, Harry began to wonder what the next straight stretch might bring.

PERHAPS it was Harry's intensity of thought; possibly his instinct for adventure was at work. Whichever the

case, the driver of the coupe was keyed to alertness as the road made another veer. The glare of the headlights

revealed a clump of bushes; as the lights swerved, Harry caught a fleeting impression of something dark,

Though his car was clearing the spot in question, Harry followed a sudden impulse. He jammed the brakes.

They acted evenly. Without a skid, the powerful coupe came to a smooth stop in the center of the road,

Pulling a flashlight from the pocket in the door, Harry stepped from his car. He left the lights on and the

motor running. He did not think that he would require more than a minute to satisfy his curiosity. But when

Harry Vincent set foot upon the packed dirt of the road, he was scheduling himself for a long stay in this

An exclamation of alarm came from Harry's lips as his flashlight picked out the huddled object in the road.

There, Harry saw the folds of a heavy, dark overcoat. Rumpled crazily, the garment bulged high; as Harry

All was silent here in the night. After a moment's pause, Harry Vincent stooped. He hesitated, almost sensing

that eyes were watching him from somewhere. Then, shaking off the nervous impression, Harry clutched the

overcoat and swept it free from the form beneath. Steadily, stolidly, Harry stared.

Lying in full view, huddled with face upward, was the body of a man. Rigidly turned toward Harry, with eyes

bulging in unseeing stare, was the ashen countenance of an elderly man. Gray hair, rumpled above the thin,

But this was not all that startled Harry Vincent. The man's silence, his position these were but preliminary

proofs of foul play. The flashlight showed other evidence of more horrifying nature.

Coat and vest were open as testimony of a bitter struggle. A white shirt showed clearly in the light. The

center of that shirt was crimson; it bore the singing marks of flame around a spot that indicated the victim's

This elderly man had been attacked in the darkness. His struggles against a fiendish foe had been to no avail.

However well he might have protected himself, the victim had succumbed to his enemy's last resort.

The man in the road had been shot through the heart. His killer had flung the overcoat upon his form and had

taken flight from the scene of crime. Harry Vincent, speeding through the night, had stopped to uncover the

HARRY VINCENT was grim when he returned to his coupe. He had taken a short road to save time. He

realized now that it would be impossible for him to reach New York before dawn. As an agent of The

Shadow, Harry had been trained to the important duty of following any trail of crime that his path might

The first step was to report this murder. Miles between two traveled highways, Harry was in a spot that

seemed desolate. Yet his keenness told him that a town could not be far away. The proof of this conjecture

There must be towns along the line of the Union Valley and Harry was sure that he could find one without

taking to the ties. He recalled a road that had cut in from the right. As he remembered it, that dirt highway

had followed the direction of the railroad. Acting upon this recollection, Harry swung the coupe about.

He found his road after a mile of driving. It proved to be rough and stony. Moreover, as Harry slackened his

speed to twenty miles an hour, he noted that this road was swinging along the base of the hillside. It was

evidently an old lower road that had been superseded by the one along the slope.

One mile back along the upper road; one curving mile along the lower. Harry realized that a person cutting

across fields and through wooded patches could reduce the trip to half a mile. This was when he began to

wonder if he had followed the best course. As the question perplexed him, he saw a house ahead.

It was a goodsized building, on the side of the road toward the hill. Harry surmised that its owner must be a

man of means. Lights glimmered dully from windows on the first floor and the second. Another lighted

Harry found a driveway and entered. He swung his car up to the front door. He alighted and found a bell with

his flashlight. It was an oldfashioned device, with a knob projecting from the center of the door. When

Harry twisted the knob, the clangor of the bell was followed by echoes that seemed to come from the recesses

Harry waited half a minute. Then he rang again. Just as he was about to ring the bell for the third time, he

caught the sound of footsteps from the stairs. A heavy, middleaged woman appeared in the dim hall. She

was attired in an old dressing gown, which she held bundled with one hand. Harry saw her by peering

through tiny panes of glass beside the door; when the woman arrived, she stared back just as Harry stepped

A LIGHT flashed on from a little projecting roof above Harry's head. Harry stepped into view as the woman

again peered from the window. Seeing his friendly face, the woman unbolted the door and opened it.

"Wait a moment." Harry stopped the closing door. "I have come here to report a an accident."

"Yes. Up on the road along the hill. It is important that I bring aid. Do you have a telephone here?"

The woman stepped aside to let Harry enter. Half friendly, half suspicious, she conducted the young man

through a wellfurnished hall into a living room. This was a comfortable apartment, wellstocked with

books. The woman pointed to the telephone, which rested on a wallbox equipped with a bell handle.

Harry lifted the receiver and whirled the handle. He was forced to repeat the operation before he received a

"I am speaking from the home of Mr. Breck," stated Harry. "I want to talk to the police or the authorities

Harry edged a glance toward the heavy woman. She was standing in the center of the room, Listening intently

to all he said. He wondered what her reaction would be when she learned that a murder, not an accident, was

A gruff voice sounded its "hello" across the wire. Harry inquired if he were speaking to the sheriff. He

received an affirmative response. Harry announced that he was speaking from the home of Mr. Breck; then he

"My name is Vincent," explained Harry. "Driving through to New York along the road on the hill. Found a

"What's that? Murder?" The questions were sharp ones. "You're at Breck's you say? Wait for me. I'll be there

"Very well, sir." Harry eyed the woman as he spoke. "I shall be ready to lead you to the place."

"All right." Harry felt annoyed by the sheriff's gruffvoiced delay. "The man was about sixty years of age.

Medium height, wiry build. He had gray hair and a thin sort of face, while his eyes I saw them bulging

Harry had forgotten the woman standing in the room. As he reached the final point of his telephoned

description, a shrill cry came from her lips. Looking up, Harry saw her clutch her hands to her heart and

HE flung the receiver on the hook and leaped to aid the woman before she slumped. At the same instant,

another figure came dashing in from the door of the room. As Harry caught the woman, he found himself

facing a longfaced, solemn fellow who bore the look of a servant. Together, they aided the woman to a

"Who are you, sir?" demanded the longfaced man. "What is the trouble? What has happened?"

"Yes, sir." The servant hesitated. "I mean no, sir. I saw you from the door, but I couldn't catch your words."

"Murder," said Harry, tersely. "On the hill road. The woman was listening to my description of the victim. It

"I understand, sir," said the servant, with a nod. "I am Craven, Mr. Grantham Breck's butler. Johanna" he

indicated the woman on the couch "has these fainting spells quite often. I shall summon Adele, the cook."

Craven hurried from the room. Harry heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs. The man bellowed from

above; there was an answer. Soon, a tall, stoopshouldered woman appeared. Like Johanna, Adele was

wearing a dressing gown. Evidently all the servants except Craven had retired for the night.

Johanna had been moaning at intervals while Harry watched her; but her condition had given Harry no cause

for alarm. It was only when Harry turned toward the couch that the moans became most noticeable. Harry

Adele, the cook, was both apprehensive and talkative. She worried for a bit; then as she placed a pillow under

"Poor soul!" exclaimed Adele. "She has been working too hard. Yes, sir, she has. Any one that visits this

house can tell you the same, sir. There should be a dozen servants to keep the place tidied up as Mr. Breck

"There, there, Johanna. Rest a bit. I'll fetch you a drink of water. Yes, sir, it's a housekeeper that Johanna is;

and a housekeeper should be giving orders not always doing all the housework herself.

"It's been a wonder to me that something like this hasn't happened long ago. But you haven't had time, have

you, Johanna, to be ill like this? No, sir she's always on the go, working all hours of the day. Wait here, sir,

Johanna had closed her eyes and was lying silent. Harry's gaze narrowed as the young man turned toward the

doorway. Craven had not returned. That was the first point that made him ponder. Another important factor

was Adele's statement that Johanna had been working steadily. It belied Craven's claim that the housekeeper

HARRY was about to go and look for the butler when Adele returned. She was carrying a bottle of ammonia

and a glass of water. She thrust the latter into Harry's hands, while she uncorked the ammonia and held it

under Johanna's nose. The effect was electric. The housekeeper gasped and sat up, thrusting the bottle away

Adele pushed the bottle into Harry's hands and grabbed the glass. She made Johanna drink the water; then

stood back and smiled as the housekeeper rubbed her head and blinked. Adele seemed pleased at the

effectiveness of her emergency methods. To Harry, however, the housekeeper's quick recovery was reason

A few minutes passed while the cook made Johanna more comfortable on the couch. Harry began to edge for

the door, hoping to gain some sign of Craven. Then came the sudden clang of the big bell.

"To Chanburg, sir?" asked Adele. "Less than two miles, sir, by the short road that comes in below the house

"Then that's the sheriff," broke in Harry, as the clang came with violence. "I'll answer the door myself, since

With that statement, The Shadow's agent hurried out into the hallway. Grim as he hastened to admit the

sheriff, Harry Vincent was forming a quick theory based upon Johanna's fainting spell and Craven's absence.

Harry Vincent was convinced that the dead man on the hill could be none other than Grantham Breck, the

WHEN Harry Vincent opened the front door of the house, an angryfaced man stalked in and glowered at

The Shadow's agent. The newcomer was a husky fellow. His old, unpressed suit added to his rough

appearance, while the badge that glimmered from his vest was token of his identity.

"I'm Sheriff Forey," the big man announced. "Tim Forey from down in Chanburg. Are you the fellow that

Three grimfaced men had followed Forey into the hall. They were wearing deputy badges. Their gaze was

"The housekeeper fainted," explained Harry, indicating the room where Johanna was still resting on the

"I see. Well, it broke up that description you were giving me. Where's Mr. Breck?"

"All right. But say" the sheriff's eyes were suspicious "for a fellow that was in all the hurry you were, it

seems funny you left me standing outside this door. Why didn't you answer my first ring?"

"The butler was around," responded Harry, calmly. "I expected him to answer. I was in the living room. I

"All right." Again, the sheriff was abrupt. "Suppose we run up to the road and find that body."

"I was about to suggest it," put in Harry, quietly. "Otherwise you may be getting more calls from tourists who

"On that road?" demanded the sheriff as he motioned Harry through the door. "Not a chance. Say, fellow,

you're probably the first one who came through there this week. This your car here?"

Harry acknowledged ownership of the coupe. The sheriff ordered his men into the touring car which they had

come in. He entered the coupe with Harry. Forey spoke as Harry started the car out into the road.

"You've got a New York license," said Forey. "I thought maybe you might have been coming from the city."

"I left there ten days ago," explained Harry. "I drove out to Michigan to see the folks. I was on the trip back."

HARRY explained the episode at the filling station. He pulled the map from the pocket of the door, with the

statement that the servicestation man had marked the railroad crossing. For the first time the sheriff

"Wondered why you came through this way," remarked Forey. "Most people duck the short cut. I figured

They had reached the hill road; the touring car close behind. Harry swung the coupe to the right. The sheriff

"A bit over eighttenths of a mile," replied Harry. "We'll be there when the tripdial shows" he leaned

"That you knew how far it was from here to the place you found the body. What's the idea? Why'd you begin

There was renewed suspicion in the sheriff's tone. While Tim Forey waited for a reply, Harry chuckled. This

"Well?" he growled. "Give me your answer. Why did you start clocking when you passed the lower road?"

"After I found the body," explained Harry, "I remembered seeing a road that I had passed. So I turned the car

around, noted the registration on the speedometer, and set out. I wanted to be sure of the distance to the body,

Forey emitted a gruff "huh." Harry smiled. He felt that his explanation had settled the sheriff. He could see

that Forey was hardboiled only on the surface. There should be no trouble from now on. Harry began to

"Tenth of a mile more," remarked Forey, as Harry glanced toward the speedometer.

"Yes," said Harry, "but I want you to see what I saw. Just as I finished this turn in the road, the lights glared

Harry had slackened to ten miles an hour. Forey was staring with him into the headlight glow. Bushes alone

"I must have swung wide before," decided Harry. "I was traveling pretty fast. Funny, though, we didn't see "

Harry braked the car. He knew that he had reached the spot. He clambered from the driver's seat and swung

around the back of the coupe, glimmering his flashlight. Forey met him there; the deputies piled out of the

Harry paused. A deputy had gone back to the touring car. There was a click as the man turned on the

searchlight that was mounted by the hood. A brilliant glare swept the side of the road for a space of a hundred

Bewildered, Harry Vincent turned to face Sheriff Tim Forey, who was staring at him steadily. For the first

"I was sure," stammered Harry, "sure that this was the spot. Positive, sheriff yes just as just as certain as

"The body isn't here," put in Forey. "Which means that you've dragged us out here on a hoax."

"No!" protested Harry. "Why should I be such a fool as to do that? I tell you, sheriff, the body was here!

Harry saw that the man was unconvinced. Promptly, The Shadow's agent resolved upon a bold stroke that he

"One answer, sheriff," Harry repeated, in steady tones. "Someone has removed the body of Grantham Breck!"

Sheriff Forey's square jaw dropped as the official repeated the name that Harry Vincent had uttered. Until that

moment, Forey had regarded Harry as the possible perpetrator of a hoax. Forey had begun to doubt the story

of an unidentified body in the road. But this mention of the name of Grantham Breck produced sharp

"Grantham Breck," declared Harry, with a sober nod. "Yes, sheriff, I believe that he was the dead man."

"So you knew Breck, eh?" challenged Forey. "Then you had a reason to be coming through here. I thought so.

"I have no game," returned Harry. "I merely want to convince you that I actually found a body at this spot

where we are now standing. I want you to know that I have been keenly alert from the moment that I made

"Let me repeat my description of the body," responded Harry. "The one that I was giving over the phone, but

which you received only imperfectly. A man sixty years old, or thereabouts. Of medium height, wiry in build.

As at the house, an interruption came at this point. Tim Forey uttered a sharp exclamation as he wheeled to

the deputies. The men were nodding. They recognized the description. Forey turned back to stare steadily at

"Sounds like Breck," asserted the sheriff. "But you're supposed to be a stranger hereabouts. How'd you know

"I didn't, at the time I found the body." Harry spoke calmly; for this was the opening he wanted. "But when I

called from the house, the woman Johanna cried out while I was giving the description. Then the butler

dashed into the room. I am sure that he overheard my description, although he pretended that he had not.

Then I became positive that the woman was trying to cover up the excitement that she had displayed.

"I was thinking matters over before you arrived, sheriff. It's only a half mile or so, cross lots, between here

and the house. Johanna had told me that Mr. Breck was out. It gave me a hunch that there might be some

connection between his absence and the murder on this road. That woman acted scared, sheriff."

"I get you now," growled Tim Forey, standing solemn in the glare of the searchlight. "Any fellow as keen as

you ought to know what he's talking about. Take a look around, boys," this was to the deputies "and see

The deputies began their search. There was no dust on the side of the road nothing that could have left a

trace of the missing body. Nor did the deputies discover any dead form in the bushes. Two of them shifted to

"You're not driving into New York tonight," the sheriff informed Harry. "I'm keeping you here as a material

witness. What's more, I want to know something about your business. If you've got any credentials on you,

Harry opened the back of the coupe. He produced a briefcase; from it, he removed papers. These were proof

that he was a real estate salesman, connected with a budding building development on Long Island. The

sheriff, nodding in convinced fashion, came across letters from Rutledge Mann. He also found the telegram

"Mann takes care of my investments," explained Harry. "He is a prominent broker in New York. Moreover,

he is connected with the real estate development on Long Island. I would like to telegraph him at his home,

The blare of a distant locomotive whistle came as the sheriff nodded. It was the nine o'clock freight, running

"What is more," added Harry, "Mann can send you further proof of my identity. Of course, these letters of

credit" Harry was producing a wallet from his pocket "can establish me for the present. If you need

"This is enough," interrupted the sheriff. "I guess you're all right, Vincent. But you'd better shoot that wire

right away. Too bad I've got to keep you here, if you were supposed to be in New York tomorrow morning."

The deputies were coming back to the road. They shook their heads as they faced the sheriff. Forey nudged

"Two of you fellows cut through to Breck's place," ordered the sheriff. "One of you drive the touring car

around. Get the servants together and chin a bit with them. But don't ask them any questions until I show up

HARRY and Forey entered the coupe. Harry swung the car about at the sheriff's order. They rolled back to

the old road, then headed for the house, with the touring car following. When they reached the gloomy

building, Forey ordered Harry to keep on. They came to the town road, one hundred yards past the house.

Here Harry was ordered to turn right; a straight stretch followed; then Forey ordered another right turn on a

"The station is about a mile from town," explained Forey. "Midway between town and that grade crossing

The blare of a locomotive whistle; the sound of a slackening rattle these were evident as Harry took a bend.

"Inbound local," was his comment. "Just past the grade crossing. We'll get there with it."

The prediction was correct. A final twist in the road brought the coupe up to a little railroad station.

Simultaneously, a twocar train coasted out from among the trees. Harry saw rails glimmer in the glare of the

"Sit tight," growled Forey, as Harry drew up near the station. "There's people getting on and off. There's Zach

Hoyler, the station agent, out on the platform. We'll wait until he goes back in."

A few automobiles were waiting by the station. Passengers from the local entered them. The locomotive bell

began in response to the conductor's pull of the bell cord. Harry saw the station agent, a tall,

stoopshouldered fellow in shirt sleeves, as he sauntered back into the little depot. The parked cars rolled

WHEN Harry and Forey entered the station, they found the agent behind the ticket window. Dull eyes peered

toward the visitors; then a pleasant grin appeared upon the agent's face as the man recognized the sheriff.

"Hello, Zach," returned Forey. "Meet Mr. Vincent. Friend of mine from New York."

A quizzical look appeared upon Hoyler's tired face as the fellow shook hands with the sheriff's companion.

Harry classified the agent as a typical keypounder who served as telegraph operator as well as station

The agent complied. Harry looked at Forey and raised his eyebrows. The sheriff nodded and spoke in

"Say what you want," he ordered. "But keep it kind of quiet. Say, Zach" he turned to the station agent

"Only Pete Lovel and Bill Crowder," replied the station agent. "Going down to Laporte for the evening.

"Couple of the town boys. Jeff Wheaton and a pal of his. Walked in about half past seven and bummed

around. They picked up a ride, I reckon, in one of those cars that was going back to town."

"Humph." The sheriff looked around to make sure that no one had entered; then he turned to the agent again.

"Listen, Zach, I don't want anything said about my being over here. There's been a little trouble and I want it

"Vincent here found a fellow lying on the hill road. Thought the man was dead and so he called me up from

"No. But I didn't like the looks of it, so Vincent is going to stay over at Breck's until tomorrow. We're going

"Not him." Forey laughed. "He don't give a whoop. But I'm thinking about Ezekiel Twinton, up on the hill.

He puts up a yap all the time. Scary fellow always thinks there's prowlers on his place. So this time I'm

going to tell him I've been on the job. How about that telegram, Vincent? Got it ready?"

Harry nodded and passed the yellow sheet to the sheriff. Forey smiled approvingly as he read the message to

"Detained in Chanburg," said the sheriff, reading aloud. "Send full credentials care of Grantham Breck. Wire

The sheriff thrust the telegram through the window. He grunted a goodby to the agent; then paused to add

"Nobody knows I was here," reminded Forey. "Nobody knows that wire went out. Got the idea, Zach?"

"Count on me, Tim," responded the agent, as he placed the telegram on the table beside the telegraph key.

Harry followed Forey from the station. As they circled the little building, Harry was on the point of pausing.

He was gripped momentarily by the same impression that he had gained on the hill road. He felt that eyes

were watching him from somewhere outside the station. He was sure that a slight crunching sound had given

Though the impression faded, Harry still felt uneasy as he entered the coupe. Nevertheless, he said nothing to

Tim Forey. Harry felt that he had gained the sheriff's confidence. He believed that it would be unwise to

suggest anything that might make Forey return to his original doubts of Harry's capability as a witness.

YET Harry Vincent might well have told Tim Forey of his impressions by the station. A quick investigation

with flashlights would have proven that someone was near by. Two minutes after the coupe had rolled from

the station, footsteps crunched upon the gravel of the driveway. A stocky, muffled figure appeared upon the

lighted platform and moved stealthily toward the door. A graygloved hand turned the knob. A blunt,

heavylipped countenance showed in the light of the waiting room as the intruder entered and moved softly

Zach Hoyler heard a footstep. He looked up quickly from his table and came promptly to his feet. Then he

recognized the hard countenance that showed through the grille. His alarm changed to wearied annoyance.

"You again, eh?" he questioned. "Say, Nubin, if all the dicks on this line were like you, the agents would go

"I did," responded the hardfaced man with a grin. "But I came in on Number 42, ten minutes ago."

"Nobody sees Perry Nubin when he don't want to be seen. I dropped off on the other side of the train."

"That dumb conductor? He didn't know I was riding Number 42. I travel incognito, Hoyler."

"Maybe you do," snorted the agent. "And maybe you only rode the afternoon express down to the B and R

crossing. Maybe you disguised yourself as a trackwalker and hit it back along the ties."

"Or maybe I came in on the freight, eh? Well I didn't do either. I rode in on Number 42, like I just told you.

"Snooping through windows, eh?" grunted Hoyler. "No wonder you got bounced off the payroll of the B and

"Answer my question," growled Nubin. "The guy sent a telegram. Pass it over. I want to read it."

Hoyler hesitated; then grinned. He picked up Harry's message and passed it through the window. Nubin read

"That ain't the whole story," remarked the railroad detective. "What's it all about? What did the sheriff say to

"He told me to keep my mouth shut," retorted Hoyler. "That's what I'm going to do."

"Not with me," assured Nubin, savagely. "I want the lowdown. See? If I don't get it, I'll bust in there and do

some keypounding on my own account. Report to the divisional chief, asking him to relieve you."

"All right," responded Hoyler, wearily. "I guess a smart mug like you could have me fired. I'll tell you all I

know; but remember, the sheriff wants it kept mum. It's got nothing to do with this line, anyway."

"I DON'T know much," admitted Hoyler. "This fellow Vincent came across a guy lying on the hill road. He

"The lawyer who lives at the bottom of the hill? The bird that used to practice in New York?"

"Yeah. Well, anyway, Vincent must have thought the guy on the road was dead. But when he and Tim Forey

went back there, they couldn't find him. So Tim is keeping Vincent at Breck's over night."

"Tim Forey says no. But he said Ezekiel Twinton, the old landowner on the hill, might raise a squawk if he

"Nothing. Except to ask who'd been around here when the local came in. I told him. Only townsfolk. If I'd

"Lay off that!" exclaimed Nubin, angrily. "Look here, Hoyler. No matter who tells you to keep mum, you talk

Zach Hoyler set his pale lips as he stared through the window. He seemed to resent the detective's

"Just because the last two fellows hit the booze here is no reason to suspect me," declared the agent. "I

haven't touched a drop since I came on the trick three months ago. I figured you for a smalltimer, Nubin,

when I heard you had come down from the B and R to the Union Valley. But I didn't think you were cheesy

"That's just one of my jobs," growled the detective. "Well, don't worry. Just keep sober, that's all. Think I'll

"I might be back, though" the dick paused warningly "because the time a fellow would look for his bottle

would be during the next few hours. It's a long wait here, Hoyler, until those two trains come through around

The agent smiled as indication of his sobriety. Perry Nubin passed the telegram back through the window. He

"I'm forgetting about the sheriff," he remarked. "Anything that happens off the right of way don't interest me.

When the detective had gone, Zach Hoyler took Harry Vincent's telegram and clicked it over the wire. That

job finished, the agent walked out on the platform and strolled about the station, swinging a lantern. This was

an inspection duty that he performed at intervals between trains. He saw no sign of Perry Nubin during his

THE telegram went through promptly. Less than an hour after the station agent had dispatched it, the wire

was reaching its final destination in New York. White hands were beneath bluish lamplight in the corner of a

A light glimmered as a tiny spot upon the wall. The hands reached for earphones. A sinister whisper sounded

The Shadow listened while Burbank repeated the message. The earphones clattered back to the wall. A hand

wrote a note in ink of vivid blue, inserted the paper in an envelope and used another pen to address the letter

The bluish light clicked out. A sinister, shuddering laugh rose to a crescendo, then shivered into ghoulish

echoes. When those creepy reverberations ended, silence lay within the blackened sanctum.

The Shadow had learned the import of Harry Vincent's relayed message. The significance lay in the

expression "send full credentials." That one word, "full," denoted both mystery and tragedy. Unsolved crime

The Shadow had departed from his sanctum. Though it was nearing midnight, the master was responding

promptly to the lure of mystery. Before dawn hovered above the little town of Chanburg, The Shadow,

MIDNIGHT. Sheriff Tim Forey and Harry Vincent were seated in Grantham Breck's living room. The

deputies were strolling about the house, keeping a watchful eye upon the kitchen, where the three servants

One of the deputies responded. A few minutes later, Johanna, Adele and Craven filed into the living room.

They stood like prisoners before the bar. Johanna was pale; Adele looked scared; only Craven appeared

"I want to talk to you folks," growled Forey as he paced back and forth before the group. "I haven't said

anything yet, because I've been waiting for your master to show up. It's midnight. He's not back. So I'm sure

Stopping, the sheriff stared at Johanna. The pale housekeeper placed her hands to her heart. Forey laughed

"I did not feel good," protested Johanna. "I tell you true, Mr. Forey. I was very sick. I was "

"You passed out for a start," broke in Forey. "After that you faked it. Talk straight, Johanna. What was it that

"That was right, Mr. Forey," admitted Johanna. "It was all very bad when I heard him say that someone had

"Wait a minute. Vincent was watching you when he first spoke. That wasn't when you began to faint. It was

"Did you think from what he said that the dead man might have been Grantham Breck?"

"You were right, Vincent," declared the sheriff, turning to The Shadow's agent. "Now, Johanna" again

"No, sir." The woman's voice rang true. "But he goes out more than once at night. I have seen him. Yah!"

"At the foot of a little stairway, sir," put in Craven. "Mr. Breck reached it from the landing by his little study

"Not exactly, sir," explained Craven. "But it is a very convenient mode of entry. One that would not be easily

"Take a look up there, Hank," ordered the sheriff. "Since you've started to talk, Craven, maybe you can tell us

CRAVEN hesitated. He glanced at Johanna and saw that the housekeeper had weakened. Craven nodded

"I'm sorry, sir," he explained. "When I came in here, I saw a stranger at the telephone. I heard him give a

description that answered to Mr. Breck. Then Johanna fainted. I said nothing, sir, for I feared that the master

Hank had returned. He informed Forey that he had been in the study. He gave a description of the room and

"Desk tables books on shelves along the wall," stated the deputy. "Everything in order. Looked in the

"All right. I'll go up there later. We've got your story, Johanna. You're all right, Adele. But I want to talk to

"I know that," growled Forey. "I mean after that. Why weren't you here to answer the door bell when I

"I went to the master's study, sir," replied Craven. "I was alarmed by what I had heard. Not finding Mr.

"I believe that harm must have befallen Mr. Breck. I thought of the side door. I had been in my quarters on

the third floor all evening; I had not heard the master go out. But I went down to the side door."

"I have a duplicate key, sir." Craven produced the object and handed it to Forey. "I began to look about, off

"No, sir!" exclaimed Craven. "Indeed not! I feared that Mr. Breck might have been injured; that he might be

"All right," decided the sheriff. "We've established this much. Grantham Breck was accustomed to go in and

out of that side door. He could have headed up to the hill. It looks like he was the man Vincent found

Craven and Johanna shook their heads. It was Adele who burst forth suddenly with an unexpected statement.

"I'LL tell you something!" asserted the cook, with a defiant glance at the other servants. "There was people

who came here to see the master. Maybe the same person always; maybe different ones. They came in by that

"My room was on that side of the house, sir," explained Adele. "I was hearing them on different nights

"He was for saying it was my imagination. 'Adele,' says he, 'you'll be telling me next that there is a banshee

"'Twas a few weeks past," recalled the cook. "So hearing no more prowlers, I kept to my own business."

"I think not, sir. I'm believing that Mr. Breck was expecting them. He could have gone down that stairway,

Sheriff Forey resumed his pacing. When he stopped, he faced both Craven and Johanna. The servants eyed

"What's your answer?" he demanded. "You've heard Adele's statement. What about these visitors?"

"There may have been such persons, sir," admitted Craven. "My room is also at the front of the house. I heard

"It was in the front, sir," explained the housekeeper, "until Mr. Breck said to me that I should take the room

"There was nothing that I heard from my room. Perhaps it is that I sleep very good when I have gone to bed."

"All right," declared the sheriff. "That's all. You can go to your rooms, the three of you. Prepare two rooms

WHEN the servants had filed out, Forey beckoned to Harry. The sheriff led the way upstairs; they found

Breck's study. The tidiness of the room was a tribute to Johanna's housekeeping. Then Forey located the

stairway; he and Harry descended. Forey unlocked the side door and motioned Harry out into the darkness.

"You've clicked with me, Vincent," assured the sheriff, in a low tone. "I believe the man you found was dead.

I'm also sure that it was Grantham Breck. He was an odd sort, Breck. Crafty, like most lawyers."

"He might have been going up to see Ezekiel Twinton," replied the sheriff, "but I doubt it. They weren't such

good friends. Breck wanted to buy Twinton's property some of it at least and there was no sale. Both

"That's just it. I've got another theory, though. Sometimes an old duck like Breck gets childish. He probably

knew that Twinton was scared. Maybe he went up there occasionally to worry Twinton."

"That's my idea. Twinton reported prowlers to me not long ago. I'm not going to bother him tonight, although

"Ran into Breck?" put in Forey, as Harry paused. "On the road you mean? I don't think so. It's too far below

Twinton's property. However, I'll remember that, Vincent. There's a lot to be cleared up. I wish we had found

"You're to stay here, Vincent" Forey's tone became even more cautious as the sheriff paced out upon the

sunscorched lawn "because we may find that body and when we do, we'll need your testimony. You'll

have a room on the second floor. So will Hank. One of the other deputies will keep watch on the ground

"Meanwhile, we'll think of Craven. He had time to beat us getting up to the hill road; he also had plenty of

time to get back down here. It's a tangle, Vincent. We'll talk it over again after a night's sleep. Say it's a

As the sheriff paused, Harry thought he caught a rustle of dried grass near the house. He listened intently; but

heard no repetition of the sound. Harry followed the sheriff in through the side door. Forey locked the barrier.

A few minutes later, the crouched figure of a man rose dimly from beside the house. The listener had heard

all that passed between Tim Forey and Harry Vincent. Straightening, he hurried toward the front road. From

When the prowler neared the railroad, he sneaked toward the platform. His stocky form showed in the light.

The man who had been by Breck's house was the railroad detective, Perry Nubin. The dick glanced in

through a window of the station. He saw Zach Hoyler at the telegraph key. Shuffling away, Nubin walked

along the tracks; then, after a pause, he again cut back across fields toward the old house.

The outbound Union Limited had gone through while Tim Forey and Harry Vincent had been waiting to quiz

the servants. The inbound Dairy Express was due shortly. Hoyler had to be on duty when the Limited

stopped; also when the fast milk train arrived. That would end his trick for the night.

THE Dairy Express was whistling for the grade crossing when Perry Nubin again neared the Breck house.

Seated in an upstairs room, Harry Vincent was writing a report by the mild glare of a table lamp. The

Shadow's agent heard the distant whistle; he also caught the clang of the bell as the train rolled into the

station. Then, amid a lull, Harry was sure that he heard footsteps creaking somewhere in the house. They

Hastily folding his halfwritten report, Harry sprang to the hall. There he found the deputy who had been

stationed in an upstairs room the fellow whom the sheriff had called Hank. On the stairway from the third

"Pardon, sir," he said to Harry. "I fancied that I heard the sound of a closing door. I thought that it might be

"Go back to bed," ordered Hank. "You got us hopping out here thinking you were some prowler."

Craven turned and went upstairs. Harry and Hank returned to their rooms. But Harry was thoughtful as he

heard the distant clang of the Dairy Express, followed by the chugging of the train from the station. He

wondered if Craven had actually heard someone outside the house; or if the butler's statement had been a

Harry stared from his window. He saw no one. But he was seen. A chunky man, crouching off by a side fence

watched until Harry had gone from the window. Then the fellow cut off toward the hill. It was Detective

Perry Nubin. The railroad dick was taking a long route toward the railway. If he left the vicinity tonight, it

Harry finished his report, a matter of several pages, with blueinked diagrams. He sealed the papers in an

envelope and left it on the table. He went to bed; but he did not extinguish the little light. Harry had a reason

THREE hours later, a faint thrum sounded above the town of Chanburg. Then came silence as an autogiro, its

motor shut, moved slowly downward toward an open space that lay in the midst of woods. The giro settled

like a hovering bird. A soft laugh whispered as a shrouded figure stepped from the strange ship.

Not long afterward, keen eyes were peering from darkness toward the gloomy house of Grantham Breck.

Dull lights showed from the living room windows; a deputy was on duty there. The only other window that

A squidgy sound came from the side of the house. Blackness seemed to project itself inward through Harry's

opened window. Solid darkness materialized itself into the weird shape of a fantastic being. A tall, sinister

figure garbed in flowing cloak of black, his features obscured by the turneddown brim of a slouch hat. Such

Harry Vincent was asleep. Gloved hands picked up the envelope from the table. Fingers produced the report.

Keen, burning eyes read the full account of Harry's adventures, including the final incident of Craven on the

Writing faded after The Shadow had read it. Such was the way with messages transmitted in the special ink.

The lines of the diagram vanished after The Shadow had finished with it. The papers which The Shadow

Every detail was implanted in the mind of the master sleuth. Silently, The Shadow crossed the room and

glided out into the hall. Moving through darkness, he reached Grantham Breck's study. A tiny flashlight

glimmered as The Shadow made a brief inspection, to assure himself that no secret hiding places were

After the light went out, a swishing sound came from the side stairway. The Shadow reached the side door;

the light shone on the keyhole. A probing instrument of steel opened the lock. The Shadow moved out into

From then on, The Shadow's course was untraceable, save for the glare of his flashlight when it reappeared at

the very spot on the hill road where Harry Vincent had spied the body. There, The Shadow moved in

mysterious fashion. His tiny light showed broken twigs on bushes; it revealed a tiny fragment of gray cloth

The Shadow moved up the hill side of the road. His light, directed on the ground, enabled his keen eyes to

spy slight flatterings of parched grass. Moving here and there, The Shadow traced evidence of various paths

Though these traces were insufficient to serve as identifications; though they formed hopeless, intermittent

paths, The Shadow, none the less, seemed satisfied. As token came the whispered mockery of his uncanny

When the first tinge of grayish dawn trickled from a clouded horizon it revealed a fleeting outline of the

blackcloaked figure on the hillside. Then The Shadow merged with the darkness of a wooded patch. The

early morning breeze caught the sinister throbs of a modulated laugh and carried its whispered echoes.

That was the final token of The Shadow's presence. His first brief investigation finished, the master had

departed. Night was The Shadow's habitat. Others could act by day; Harry Vincent could report their doings.

When shrouding darkness fell once more, The Shadow, invisible, would resume his task.

LATE the next afternoon, Harry Vincent's coupe pulled up at an old house on the hill. Harry had followed the

road at Sheriff Forey's guidance. The approach to the house had required a considerable detour. This house

was the home of Ezekiel Twinton. After Harry and Forey alighted, the sheriff rang the bell.

An old, quavering servant answered the door. He ushered the visitors into a small parlor. A few minutes later,

a dryfaced, crabby man entered. Harry placed his age as between fifty and sixty. This man was Ezekiel

Twinton. He nodded to Forey; gave a curt greeting when introduced to Harry; then sat down.

"I suppose you know what's up, Mr. Twinton," opened Forey. "We've been searching all over the hillside for

"I saw the searching parties," crackled Twinton, "but I did not learn their purpose. I sent Dunmore out to

inquire, but the poor fellow is nearly stone deaf. He came back with a very imperfect idea of what was going

"Yes," replied Twinton. "Lang Sook, my Chinese cook. But he is as hopeless as Dunmore. Lank Sook cannot

"He does that," remarked Twinton, with a nod. "He seems somehow to detect the vibration of the door bell.

But you can shout in his ear without him hearing you. However, the house is well guarded. I have hounds and

Great Danes chained about the place after dark. They are sufficient to frighten dangerous intruders. I shall be

watchful from now on, since you have found a dead man near here. Where was the body?"

"Off my property. Well, that is a good point. Nevertheless, Forey, I have told you that prowlers have been

"Because we have an idea who the dead man was. Mr. Vincent discovered the body; it was gone when I came

Ezekiel Twinton stared in horror. His lips opened; then formed a gasp. This revelation seemed to strike him

"I was busy most of the day," explained the sheriff. "I couldn't get up here as soon as I had hoped. I had an

"No." Ezekiel Twinton was emphatic in his reply. "Breck and I have not visited each other since I flatly

"Not exactly. He said that he would be willing to purchase the entire estate. But he chiefly wanted the portion

that was once the old Pastely farm. Come. I shall show you. My! This is terrible news, Forey."

TWINTON led the way through the kitchen. Standing on a broad porch, he pointed along the brow of the hill.

A few battered fence posts marked what had once been a dividing line. Just beyond was a low, flat building

"The old spring house," declared Twinton. "It was abandoned after the farm buildings burned. That was

before I bought any of this property. After I took over this house, five years ago, I bought the old farm also."

"He made his final offer about a month ago. He insisted that he must have a house on the hill. I told him I

wanted no neighbors within view. I added that he could buy houses on other hills hereabouts; that he would

be a fool to build a new one. Somehow he seemed set upon rebuilding on the site of the old Pastely

"Less than that. Fifty yards, I should say. I filled in the old cellar so no one would fall in it. I left the spring

house closed. But tell me more concerning Grantham Breck" Twinton paused quizzically "and how he

"Breck seems to have been going out at nights," declared Forey. "The servants were sort of mysterious about

it until we pinned them down. They finally admitted that Breck used a little side door that led to his study."

"I know the door," observed Twinton, nodding. "Breck showed it to me. I used to visit him occasionally

"What is more," stated Forey, "we learned that people have come in and out that door within the past month."

Dusk was nearing and it was gloomy under the projecting roof of the porch. Yet Harry Vincent could

distinctly see the expression that flickered over the face of Sheriff Tim Forey. Ezekiel Twinton was watching

it, too. The owner of the hill house smiled sarcastically as he made his next statement.

"Young Breck does not know that he had been seen hereabouts," remarked Twinton. "I chanced to see him

over in Laporte, about a month ago. He was registered at a hotel, under the name of Elwood Turner."

"I inquired at the hotel," replied Twinton. "I knew the clerk well. I told him to keep check on his falsely

registered guest. I was in Laporte yesterday afternoon, Forey. Elbert Breck was still staying there."

"Elbert Breck," mused the sheriff. "Grantham's only son. In wrong with the old man. He deserved to be, too.

Squandered money, got himself in trouble. I thought maybe the kid had landed in jail by this time."

"He was not quite that bad, Forey," put in Twinton, with a charitable chuckle. "Perhaps he was here to regain

his father's confidence. As I said before, he visited his father secretly. Late one afternoon I was driving by

"Humph," grunted Sheriff Forey. "Thanks for this information, Twinton. Well, if you notice any prowlers

around, give me a prompt call. Come on, Vincent. We'll walk around to the front."

Harry was staring across the lawn as he heard the sheriff speak. Over beyond the fence, close by the

darkening side of the spring house, he had fancied that he had seen the outline of a moving shape. The

impression faded as Harry gazed. As he walked along with Tim Forey, The Shadow's agent smiled.

Only one person to Harry's knowledge could have approached so close to Twinton's house while daylight

still persisted. That being was The Shadow. Harry already knew that his mysterious chief was in the vicinity.

The absence of the report was proof of that. But now the agent knew that The Shadow was already deep in

HARRY and Forey drove along the roundabout way to the Breck house. Gloaming had set in; yet the twilight

still gave Harry the complete view of the Breck estate that he had gained during the morning. Off to one side

of the house was an old barn; Forey's searchers had searched it today. Farther away was a stone

smokehouse; a square, windowless building with a tiny chimney in the top. Its steel door was fastened with

As they pulled up in front of the house, one of the deputies appeared. He beckoned hastily. Forey clambered

"Say, Tim," he said to the sheriff. "Take a guess who do you think blew in while you were up at

"Save the riddles for the next barn dance," growled Forey. "I'll answer this one just the same. Elbert Breck."

Forey beckoned to Harry. Together, they entered the house. Floor lamps were lighted in the living room;

stretched in an easy chair was a young man, smoking a cigarette. He sprang to his feet as the newcomers

entered. Harry Vincent stopped short. He saw a distinct facial resemblance between this arrival and the dead

"Hello, sheriff," greeted Elbert Breck, in a troubled tone. "Is this true what I read about my father "

"Yes," replied Elbert, shifting his gaze. "In the New York newspaper. I was in New York this morning.

Reading a newspaper. It said a search was being made for the body of Grantham Breck."

"I I guess I left it on the train. I was so worried, I came here right away. Is is this the chap who saw the

"Yes." Forey introduced Harry. "Vincent here thinks it must have been your father; but the body was gone

"I'm sure that the body was that of Grantham Breck," said Harry, solemnly. "I can see the resemblance

Elbert Breck succumbed. Dropping in his chair, he buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook from the

effect of convulsive sobs. Harry and Forey stood by while the young man managed to overpower his

"We we didn't get along, father and I," gulped Elbert. "But when I first when I first learned of his

reported death, it well, it broke me up. I'm his only heir but that doesn't mean anything. He was my dad. I

well, I was to blame for our misunderstandings. This this has changed me, sheriff. I mean it. I mean it."

There was something pathetic in Elbert's speech. It won Harry Vincent's sympathy. Even gruff Tim Forey

"We're investigating, kid," said the sheriff. "We'll get to the bottom of this. You stay right here. It's your

"I've got Vincent staying here. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have learned anything. I want him to stay on

"As long as he wants." Elbert arose and gripped Harry's hand. There was a surprising firmness in his grasp.

The effort seemed to overcome Elbert Breck. Subsiding, the young man dropped back into his chair. He

rested his head on one hand and stared toward the floor. His face was melancholy.

"I'm going down town," remarked Sheriff Forey. "Come along, Vincent, while I scare up those deputies. I'm

THE moment they were outside the front door, Forey gripped Harry's arm. The sheriff spoke in a low, tense

"Elbert is lying," he informed. "His story doesn't click. No mention of his father's death could possibly have

reached the New York newspapers this morning. Elbert wasn't in New York. Ezekiel Twinton was right.

"On account of the searching party," stated Forey. "I told them who they were looking for. You know how

news leaks out. Wait a minute, though. I'm telling you how Elbert could have learned of his father's death

"That Elbert might have known it last night. Learned it here not in Laporte. Listen, Vincent, I'm suspecting

"But you're off it now," assured Forey. "What's more, I'm going to prove it to you. I'm leaving you here alone.

"I know you can," stated Forey, emphatically. "This much is certain. Elbert is trying to get a line on what's

happening, or he wouldn't have shown up so promptly. If I stay here; if I leave deputies, he'll know that I'm

"That would only be a halfway measure. It's a sure bet that Elbert will stick around so long as he thinks he's

Harry received the sheriff's bonecracking hand clasp. Turning on his heel, Forey called to the deputy. The

two entered a touring car and started back to town. Harry Vincent stood pondering.

STRANGE events had crossed his path. Out of a clear sky, Harry had discovered death and mystery. The

result: he was playing two parts, both leading to the same goal. He had become the secret agent of the law as

The Shadow! As Harry stood in the gathering darkness, he wondered what The Shadow's next step might be

toward the solution of the strange problem that involved the murder of Grantham Breck and the

disappearance of the dead man's body. While Harry pondered, the answer came. With an uncanny closeness

that made Harry quiver, a whispered voice spoke a single word from the darkness close beside him.

The Shadow! The master of darkness had come here from Twinton's! He wanted to know what his agent had

learned. Steadily, in a low monotone, Harry recited the conversation that had passed at Twinton's. He

followed with an account of the interview between Elbert Breck and Sheriff Tim Forey.

All the while, Harry stared straight ahead. He did not see The Shadow; he did not see his chief; but he felt a

distinct impression of The Shadow's veiled, yet dynamic presence. In conclusion, Harry began to recite his

own speech here with Forey, here outside the house. It was then that a hissed interruption sounded.

Almost immediately afterward, Harry sensed that he stood alone. He realized that The Shadow had listened in

on his talk with Forey; that The Shadow had required only the missing details. Harry knew that The Shadow

had departed. This meant that his chief wanted him to carry on until he received new instructions.

Turning, Harry Vincent went back into the house. He was ready to play the game; to be friendly with Elbert

Breck, yet to keep close watch upon the young man's actions. He knew that Sheriff Forey had reached a

standstill; yet he was confident that new developments would come. The Shadow was at work.

Off beyond the dimly lighted house, a strange, shrouded figure was gliding through the gathering darkness.

Harry Vincent had divined correctly. The Shadow had bided his time throughout the day; now, with darkness

A whispered laugh stirred up vague echoes. That throbbing mirth was foreboding. Before this night was

ONE hour after The Shadow had received Harry Vincent's verbal report, an autogiro came settling upon the

lighted landing field at Laporte. The pilot alighted and strolled over to a place where cabs awaited passengers

from planes. He entered one of these vehicles and ordered the driver to take him to the Laporte Hotel.

The rural taximan was garrulous. He began chatting with his passenger as he headed for the town. The arrival

"Seen that windmill of yours this mornin', boss," informed the taximan. "Say them giros sure can drop

down quiet, can't they? Seen it again when you went up this afternoon. Say you ought to use that ship to fly

"Lookin' for a body over there, I hear. Finished up about three o'clock in the afternoon, I reckon. But they

was talkin' here at the air field about sendin' a couple of planes over that way tomorrow. Guess they figure

The chugging sedan that passed for a taxi had reached the main street of Laporte. The town was a thriving

one; its chief thoroughfare was well illuminated. Laporte boasted three hotels; the driver pulled up at the best,

When the pilot of the autogiro entered the lobby of the hotel, his features were plainly revealed for the first

time. His face was firm and impassive, almost masklike. It gave no clew to his exact age. Brilliant eyes shone

Tall and sweeping of stride, the hawkish arrival entered an elevator and rode up to the fifth floor. There he

entered a room which he had engaged that morning, under the name of Lamont Cranston. As soon as the door

Though he had left his black garments stowed safely in the autogiro, The Shadow still possessed his gift of

merging with the dark. He moved silently through the room. His whispering lips formed a soft laugh. A light

clicked above a table in the corner. Its shade sent the rays downward; only white hands appeared beneath the

THIS morning, The Shadow had brought his giro from the clearing. Late in the afternoon, he had taken off

from the Laporte flying field, to travel high above the countryside which the sheriff's men had searched. He

had dropped into the clearing, paid his visit to Twinton's and Breck's. Then he had returned to Laporte.

The Shadow had accomplished the very thing that the taximan had said might be done tomorrow. He had

viewed the terrain about Chanburg from the air. Brief though his inspection had been, the mysterious

The hands unfolded a sheet of paper. It was a topographical survey map of the district about Chanburg. This

government chart was excellent in detail. It showed houses, clumps of trees, contours and heights of hills.

Then came a sheet of thin cardboard. It already bore a penciled enlargement of the topographical survey map.

The Shadow's hand began to supply additional markings that did not appear upon the printed chart.

A blue dot marked the spot where Harry Vincent had found the body in the road. The Shadow produced a

drawing compass; he thrust the point into the blue dot and used the penciled end to trace a circle one mile in

It was possible to trace The Shadow's thoughts from the motion of his right hand. Not only did that hand

make light markings on the chart; it also put down time notations on the margin, to indicate the exact space of

minutes that had passed between Harry Vincent's discovery of the body and the arrival of the sheriff. The

The corpse had been removed during that interval. Where had the body been taken? That was the problem

which The Shadow sought to answer. His first act was to run the pencil along the roads.

The Shadow was considering the theory that the body might have been carried away by automobile. That

possibility could not be totally rejected. Yet it was unlikely. Had the murderer had a car available, he would

The pencil moved over to the railroad. This time, The Shadow's hand indicated complete rejection. The body

could not have been taken away by train, because of two reasons. First: the necessity of loading it aboard at

the station; second, the schedule of the trains themselves. It was a long trek from the road to the station. The

freight had gone through shortly after the discovery of the body. The local the Limited even the Dairy

Express; none of these would have been suitable. Living men could have boarded them; but a corpse could

The Shadow knew that the murderer could have kept the corpse by the tracks until the arrival of an early

morning freight; but that would have meant a dangerous risk. No The Shadow's hand as it roved within the

Pausing by the blue dot, The Shadow touched thin lines that he had made. These were the traces that he had

discovered one night ago. To an ordinary student of crime, they might have signified the presence of one

prowling enemy. To The Shadow, they meant more. Several persons had been near the scene of crime. While

one, probably the leader, had slain the victim, the lines in the dried grass indicated that the killer had aids

Harry Vincent's arrival must have occurred shortly after the murder. The killer and his pals had taken to the

cover of the bushes. The broken twigs; the bit of gray cloth on a bramble these were indications of the

lurkers. Probably the murderer had believed that Harry would pass by. When Harry had discovered the body,

Harry's departure had been fortunate. Had he waited too long, The Shadow's agent might have become a

second victim. But after Harry left, the lurking killer decided on prompt action. Aided by his pals, he had one

logical thought; to stow the body in some place where it would lie unfound; then to make a getaway.

THOUGH the killer might still be near Chanburg, it was plain that his aids had gone. The search by the

sheriff's men had revealed no suspicious strangers. The Shadow's pencil followed the course of the railroad

track. Ruffians the kind that a killer had at his heels could well have hopped the Dairy Express,

What of the body? The Shadow's hand kept hovering above the circle. It touched one tiny black square that

was just within the circle. That square was located near the railroad, between the station and the grade

The hand moved upward. It stopped upon another black square close by the indicated home of Ezekiel

Twinton. That was within the limits of the circle. The hand rested there a few moments; then made another

This time it touched a black square near the home of Grantham Breck. The Shadow's whisper formed a

sinister laugh. He had found a logical answer to his problem. Of three places, he was eliminating two.

If the railroad had been the means of departure for the pals of the killer, they would not have left the body

near the tracks. A trip up toward Ezekiel Twinton's had its drawbacks. First: the lugging of the body uphill.

Second: a march away from the railroad. Third: the necessity of crossing the hill road on the return journey,

unless the men made a long, roundabout detour over Twinton's hill. This, according to the topographical map,

Toward Breck's. A downhill trip. Then a cut over to the railroad. There was only one objection. Harry

Vincent had stopped at Breck's and had brought the sheriff there. But that was pure chance. The killer had

probably thought that the motorist would keep straight into the town of Chanburg.

A faint, almost inaudible buzz sounded from beside the table. The Shadow's hands moved into darkness.

They opened a square suitcase. Fingers turned a knob. The Shadow whispered. A response came through

A voice clicked through the shortwave set. The Shadow ended the conversation with short, cryptic words.

Word from New York. Work there on the morrow. A new battle with unfinished crime. The Shadow must

leave this vicinity for the time. That fact was not alarming. For The Shadow, though he was convinced that a

dangerous master of evil lurked near Chanburg, was also sure that the hand of crime lay in temporary

The Shadow was positive that the enemy relied upon a crew of workers who had departed. The killer would

lay back now that his mob was gone. Should crime require a repetition, the evil chief would again summon

Such was the basis of The Shadow's deductions. Yet the master sleuth had not yet placed his finger upon the

arch criminal, nor had he divined the motive for murder. The Shadow scented hidden purposes. He knew that

So far, Sheriff Tim Forey, Craven the butler, Ezekiel Twinton and young Elbert Breck had bobbed up like

puppets before The Shadow's view. The Shadow suspected that these were not all concerned in the

complications that mysterious murder had produced. He still had time for further investigation; he intended to

More important than living men was a dead one. That, at least, was the case for the present. To fight

criminals, The Shadow chose to bring them into action. Before he left for Manhattan, The Shadow intended

to perform one definite task: namely, to locate the corpse that Forey and his men had failed to find after

prolonged search. A whispered laugh, timed to the extinguishing of the light, was proof that The Shadow

LATER that evening, Lamont Cranston checked out of the Laporte Hotel. He took a cab to the airport. His

luggage was loaded aboard the autogiro. He took off presumably for New York and the windmilled ship

Dull starlight gave some visibility of the ground below. The Shadow's ship moved high above the town of

Chanburg. The motor stilled; the giro descended like a silent monster from the heavens. It came to rest in the

A phantom form reappeared upon the hill near the house of Ezekiel Twinton. The building was dark when

The Shadow encircled it. Faithful watch dogs, sleeping by their kennels, were undisturbed by the gliding

The Shadow reached the little spring house. Its closed door was sheathed with iron. Rusted nails, showing

beneath the glimmer of the tiny flashlight, were proof that this place had not been entered. The Shadow

Later, his form appeared in the vicinity of the railroad. The Shadow reached the spot that had shown as a tiny

square on his map. Passing through a thicket of furzelike bushes, he came to an abandoned shack. A simple

Empty bottles, a few old newspapers these were the objects that the little flashlight revealed upon the

wooden floor. Small, dirtyencrusted windows were tightly closed. The Shadow moved out into darkness. He

Someone was puffing up the side of the embankment. Silent, The Shadow could trace the motion of a form

that took to the ties, heading in the direction of the railroad station. The man's pace was hasty. His stocky

The sound of a train approaching from far in the opposite direction spurred the prowler to more rapid stride.

Close to the station, the man cut over behind a trio of sidetracked freight cars. He clambered in through one

of the opened doors and waited. The Shadow merged with the darkened side of the car.

The roar of a train; a clanging bell. The Union Limited came blazing down the rails to halt at the little station.

Its headlights, however, did not reveal either the prowler or The Shadow. Both were out of range. The

It was then that the chunky prowler dropped from an open door on the side of the car toward the station. The

Shadow circled the end of the freight car and remained unseen. Zach Hoyler was on the lighted platform,

The squatty prowler paused; then clambered over the rails. He reached the platform just as Hoyler was

unlocking the outside door of the baggage room. The Shadow, too, had moved forward. He had gained the

The Shadow saw Zach Hoyler turn in momentary alarm at the sound of thudding footsteps. Then he observed

the relieved grin that appeared upon the agent's face. Zach had recognized the squatty, muffled prowler as the

The Shadow, too, saw the visage of the stranger; but his keen eyes viewed that square, pudgylipped

countenance for the first time. The man whom The Shadow had followed was Perry Nubin, the railroad

"HELLO, bloodhound," greeted Hoyler, from the baggageroom door. "When did you drop in?"

"Riding in style, eh?" laughed the station agent. "I suppose you pulled the trick stuff again. Nobody knew you

"Right," responded Nubin. "If any mug can prove I was on that train, I'll hand him a ten spot."

There was a touch of irony in this statement; one that The Shadow appreciated even though Zach Hoyler did

not. The Shadow had learned the reason for Nubin's hasty progress along the track. He knew that the

detective had been prowling the fields near the Breck house. He also understood that Nubin wanted to create

"What's the idea this trip?" questioned Hoyler, while he lugged boxes into the baggage room. "Going to pull a

"Let the hicks look for it," growled Nubin. "Just the same, that's why I'm here. Making a routine checkup,

"That's a real satisfaction," stated Hoyler, grinning as he locked the door of the baggage room. "Any time

"Lay off the sarcasm. This is railroad business. I want to know about that search this afternoon."

"Better talk to the sheriff. I've been anchored here ever since early in the afternoon."

"I'm not worrying about the sheriff. I'm interested in railroad property. Did those yahoos come messing

"I don't think so." Hoyler shook his head. "Some of them walked in along the tracks, but they looked like they

"Nothing that concerned the railroad. But they had a good idea whose body they were looking for."

PERRY NUBIN cocked his head a trifle as he heard the station agent's statement. His face, however,

betrayed no surprise. The Shadow could study the detective's heavy visage plainly from the bush.

"So did I," responded the station agent. "But the sheriff let the word slip out. Old Breck hasn't been seen since

"Humph," grunted Nubin. "Well, that don't mean anything to me. I just wanted to know if there was any

"Well" the dick was speculative "he might have figured that some hoboes had dropped off a freight and

caused the trouble. That would make him figure that they went out of town the way they came."

"No," replied Nubin, "but that's why I'm asking you. I can't watch this whole division all the time."

"I haven't seen any bums," declared Hoyler, "but that doesn't mean there's none around. They wouldn't walk

"Wisecracking again, eh?" Nubin snorted the question. "Say, Hoyler, I know the ways of hoboes better than

you do. I know they'd duck off through the woods when they came near a station. Of course you wouldn't see

"But those yap deputies might. Or they might figure there'd been some bums around. If they did, you'd be the

"No mention of any hoboes," stated Hoyler, emphatically. "If there had been, you would have been here on

"Because I would have tapped the information through. I'm working for the Union Valley, too. I would have

"You've got more brains than I thought, Hoyler. Well, I guess there wasn't any use in my coming here after

all. I'll go out on the Dairy Express. But don't say anything about it to the train crew."

"Some more smart stuff, Nubin? Say you're the wisest dick that ever worked on this road. Where are you

"Same place as usual, I guess. B and R crossing. I'll get aboard when the train comes through. So keep your

"All right, Nubin. But you'd better start hoofing it if you expect to be there in time."

With this admonition, Zach Hoyler went back into the station. Perry Nubin strolled about until he heard the

clicking of the telegraph key. Then he sidled off into the darkness of the tracks. The Shadow watched until

the green glow of a signal light showed a momentary glimpse of the chunky form. Then The Shadow

The railroad dick was walking back in the direction of the shack. But he did not go that far. Instead, he

scraped down the embankment and headed across fields. His course led toward the Breck mansion. It was

slow and cautious; Nubin seemed to be in no hurry. In fact, the whistle and clatter of the Dairy Express was

This was the third spot that The Shadow had intended to visit. The presence of Perry Nubin had caused a

change in his plans. By the darkened side of the house, The Shadow waited. At intervals, he could hear

Nubin's cautious prowling. Only the keen ears of The Shadow could have detected the sound, for Nubin was

HOURS passed. The clear starlight presaged an early dawn. Yet Perry Nubin kept up his vigil. He chose new

spots more distant from the house; yet all the while he watched. During this period, The Shadow waited,

unseen. Though time was shortening, he could afford to lose it. His business here was too important to

At last there were no more signs of Nubin. The Shadow sensed that the detective had left. Moving silently

from the cover of the house, The Shadow glided to the rear and approached the square outline of the closed

The glimmer of the little flashlight shone upon the massive padlock that guarded the smokehouse door. No

search had been made in this building, because the lock itself gave evidence that the building had not been

entered. The Shadow had learned this fact from Harry Vincent. But The Shadow's opinion concerning the

locked door was different from the one that had entered the mind of Sheriff Tim Forey.

Indeed, the whispered laugh that sounded in the darkness was evidence of definite knowledge. The Shadow

knew that the sheriff had overlooked a simple possibility; yet one on which new facts of crime were hinged.

The Shadow had left details in the hands of the law. The law, represented by Forey, had failed in its quest.

A blackened pick of steel probed the padlock. After a short while, a click sounded. The lock snapped open.

The Shadow removed it; softly, he opened the door of the smoke house, entered, and closed the door behind

MANY minutes passed before The Shadow's figure reappeared. A blackgloved hand snapped the padlock

back in place. The Shadow moved toward the house. His flashlight glimmered along the ground. A whisper

sounded as The Shadow found an object that would suit his next purpose. It was a small handsledge that lay

Dawn would soon be due. The last period of darkness was suited to The Shadow's next purpose. Without

using his flashlight, The Shadow returned to the smoke house. There, he relinquished his usual mode of

silence. The Shadow had brought the sledge with him. Swinging it through the darkness, he pounded fiercely

Crash! As The Shadow's strokes continued, lights began to blaze in the Breck house. Windows came open.

Excited shouts sounded from within. With two final strokes, The Shadow used precision in the darkness.

Hurling the sledge to the ground, The Shadow swung off past the smoke house, heading for the rear fence.

But as he rounded the final corner, a stocky figure came hurtling upon him from the darkness. The Shadow

Wrestling free, The Shadow grappled with a powerful foe who emitted incoherent roars. Doors were

clattering from the house. Men's voices shouted as flashlights began to blaze. The Shadow's enemy gave a

hoarse shout. It was triumphant, for the blackcloaked form was slumping downward.

The man's cry ended as The Shadow's back shot upward like a spring. Clawing nothingness, the fellow went

hurtling head foremost over The Shadow's shoulders. He thudded heavily upon the dried ground and rolled

along the tufted grass. Swiftly, The Shadow swept away into the darkness. His figure merged with the

HARRY VINCENT was the first to spy the form of The Shadow's overpowered adversary. Harry's flashlight

showed the fellow lying face downward. Elbert Breck arrived; then Craven. While the servant held the light,

Harry gripped the prone man's shoulders. The fellow mumbled; he came to a sitting posture. Harry saw the

"The lad who works about the place," explained Craven. "He always gets here just about dawn, sir. A dullard,

but faithful and as powerful as a bull. I am amazed, sir, that he was so promptly whipped in the struggle."

Slight streaks of dawn were appearing as Craven spoke. Harry Vincent recalled that he had reported no

mention of Hiram to The Shadow. Harry realized who the yokel's adversary had been. Then Harry's thoughts

turned to the present. Hiram, propped against the back corner of the smoke house, was beginning to talk.

"I heard him," asserted the rustic. "Bang bang that's the way he was goin' right at the smokehouse

door. I knowed he'd come this way. I can rassle, I can. So I grabbed him, by heck."

"Nah," responded the hired man. "Might have been, though, if I'd bumped a rock. Say I wisht I knowed the

rassling holt that feller used. Picked me up like this" Hiram swooped his arms upward "and heaved me,

"How'd I know?" retorted Hiram. "I was layin' kinda foolish like, with all the wind knocked out of me."

Elbert stared off toward the fence. Though the sky was lightening, the ground was still hopelessly dark.

"I heard the hammering on the smokehouse door," declared Harry. "Hiram says someone was trying to get

in there. I thought I heard the lock smash. Suppose we look and see what happened."

"We should aid Hiram first, sir," put in Craven. "Perhaps we should help him to the house."

"I can walk," protested Hiram, as Harry and Elbert aided him to his feet. "Leave me use my own legs."

"That's right, Hiram," added Craven, who was leading the way with the light. "Do as young Mr. Breck orders.

Hiram showed no ill effects from his struggle. By the time they reached the living room and propped him on

"I want to go back to the smoke house," he complained. "I tell you, the feller was trying to get in there. Leave

A motor came to a stop out front. Then a clang of the door bell. Craven looked worried; then went to answer

"That cook of yours called me on the phone," stated Forey. "Where is she? What's up?"

"Here I am, sheriff." Adele appeared in dressing gown from the stairway. "There was a terrible noise out

back. Someone smashing at the smokehouse door. The men rushed out; I called you on the telephone "

"Hiram encountered someone," replied Harry. "He thinks the person was trying to break into the smoke

THE outline of the smoke house was plain when they arrived outside. The sheriff was the first to near the

door. He tripped over the handsledge and picked it up. He noted big dents in the steel door; then observed

"The fellow smashed things right," growled Forey. "But he didn't get in. Leastwise I don't think so. The hasp

is still on the staple. Looks like he was mighty anxious to get in, the way he hammered at the door. I wonder

Prying the hasp free, the sheriff drew back the steel door. The interior of the smoke house was totally black.

Forey stepped over the threshold and turned on his flashlight while the others peered in through the door.

A sharp word came from the sheriff's lips; Craven uttered a startled cry; while Elbert Breck delivered a

choking gasp. The flashlight had illuminated the entire floor. Its rays were revealing a huddled object in the

Face upward was the body that Harry Vincent had discovered in the road. The Shadow's agent recognized the

thin countenance with its gray hair. This was the corpse for which the sheriff's posse had been searching. It

"Grantham Breck," declared the sheriff, solemnly. "You gave us the right start, Vincent. This is the dead man

Elbert Breck was slumping by the door. Craven, his face ashen in the dawn, was quavering as he sought to

aid his new master. This time it was Hiram who came to aid. He caught Elbert by one arm; Harry Vincent

Elbert was choking with convulsive sobs. Craven was shaking as he faltered ahead to open the back door of

the house. They reached the living room; there Elbert slumped upon the couch, while Craven stood beside

Harry Vincent went out again, to report to Sheriff Forey at the smoke house. He was thinking of what Forey

had said; that he Harry had been right about the body. But Harry Vincent also knew that he was right

about something else. The proof was coming in the form of a distant sound off by the hill. It was the

Harry knew the truth. That fading sound marked The Shadow's departure. But before he left, rising into the

haze of dawn, The Shadow had performed his task. He had located the hiding place where the body of

Grantham Breck was lying. He had deliberately paved the way to the discovery of the missing victim.

FIVE days had passed since the finding of the body in the smoke house. During that period, Harry had kept in

communication with The Shadow. He had done this by letter and by occasional telegrams to Rutledge Mann.

Through wires that referred to securities and real estate had enabled Harry to relay coded points of

The county coroner had classed Grantham Breck's death as murder. Tim Forey had insisted that Harry

Vincent remain in Chanburg. Harry had made no objection. Hence he was still a guest of Elbert Breck.

Moreover, Harry was still holding the sheriff's confidence. Forey and deputies appeared occasionally at the

house; but Harry was the secret watcher delegated to keep tabs on any doings there. This duty was becoming

On two nights, Harry had heard Elbert Breck creep downstairs from his room. He had heard the young man

go out of the house. He had timed the intervals of Elbert's absence. On both occasions, the heir had been gone

Craven, too. The butler was crafty as well as taciturn. Only once had Harry noted action on his part; that was

when he had heard Craven coming up the stairs. Though he had no proof that the servant had gone out doors,

Harry had not reported these occurrences to Tim Forey; but he had sent word of them to The Shadow. One

point upon which Harry was convinced: there was no collusion between young Breck and the butler. During

the day; at dinner in fact, whenever occasion offered the opportunity Harry had looked for signs of some

On this particular evening Harry was seated in the living room with Elbert Breck. Off and on, Elbert had

shown signs of talkativeness; but he had always swung into a nervous silence. Harry had made no effort to

lead him on, and this policy was bringing results. Of a sudden, Elbert began to speak.

"Father's death has troubled me terribly," began the lawyer's son. "Something must be done about it, Harry.

"We are liable to hear from Forey tonight," remarked Harry. "After the bullet was extracted from the body, he

"Do you really think they can learn anything?" questioned Elbert. "From the bullet I mean? Could the killer's

"Positively," declared Harry. "Of course, they will have to find the gun. The bullet, however, may tell them

"But I have no faith in Forey," blurted Elbert. "He passed up the most obvious place to search for father's

"The smoke house? Yes, we realized after the body was found that the search should have begun there. But I

"I must admit that I was confused also. But Forey should have thought of it in the beginning. Father naturally

had the key to that padlock. The murderer would have found it with his other keys. That was why he

unlocked the smoke house, put the body inside and closed the padlock afterward. Forey suddenly realized

Harry Vincent smiled. He knew someone who had deducted the murderer's simple action. The Shadow. He

HARRY realized that the art of deduction included many points that seemed absurdly simple once results had

been produced. He also knew that not one of all Forey's searchers nor even Harry himself had struck

"Do you know," continued Elbert, "if the keys had still been on my father's body, I think Forey would have

continued to be puzzled. But he was so worried about the side door of this house that the first thing he looked

"I know," laughed Harry. "He shouted out that the keys were missing. Not in any pocket. Then all of a sudden

he said: 'Say that's how the murderer fooled us. Took the keys and unlocked the door of the smoke house.'

"Why do you think Forey put new locks on all the doors of this house?" questioned Elbert, suddenly. "Do you

"Then there's that prowler," mused Elbert. "The fellow who smashed the padlock on the smokehouse door.

He couldn't have been the murderer. He would have unlocked the padlock unless he had lost the keys or

Again, Harry smiled. He knew well why the padlock had been broken. More than that, he was sure that The

Shadow had first managed to open the lock and make sure that the body was within the smoke house.

"Harry," said Elbert, in a confiding tone, "there's something I want to tell you. I I believe that Forey

"Because father and I were at odds," responded Elbert. "What is more, I want to tell you something

"I I was not in New York when I heard the rumor of my father's death. I was in Laporte. I I had seen my

father only a week before. Here, in this house. I came through that side door. He my father admitted me."

Elbert gazed toward Harry as he spoke. The heir's gaze was half shrewd, half nervous. Harry's response was a

quizzical look; but there was nothing suspicious in the manner of The Shadow's agent.

"I needed money," explained Elbert. "To pay off debts. I promised my father that I would behave if he gave

"He he turned me down at first. Then he gave me hope. He said that he might help me in a few weeks. I had

"I was afraid he wouldn't believe me," declared Elbert. "He might have decided that father promised me

nothing. Forey, like everybody else around here, has a very poor notion regarding my integrity. But you

well, you have been a friend, Harry. Tell me do you think I should make this statement to Forey?"

"I may do so later," decided Elbert. "But for the present, I want you to say nothing "

The young man broke off as Craven appeared from the stairway. The servant entered the living room and

looked about in a critical manner. He seemed to think that the place was untidy, for he grumbled a bit to

ELBERT had become a clam. Something in his manner indicated that he thought he had talked too much.

Harry also had the suspicion that Elbert had been pumping him. Did the heir suspect that Forey knew he had

been in Laporte? Perhaps; that certainly would account for Elbert's confiding statements. He might well have

Johanna arrived in the living room. She began to rearrange books upon a table. Then came the clang of the

door bell. Craven answered it. Tim Forey strode in, followed by a stout man whom Harry had met two days

Beckoning to Craven, the sheriff made the servant stand near where Harry Vincent and Elbert Breck were

"The bullet is back from New York. Here it is" he produced the metal slug "with photographs. This is

"Certainly, sir," replied the servant. "I hope that the fiend who slew the master will be captured."

"Well," remarked Forey, pacing back and forth, "we've learned this much. The killer used an odd sort of a

gun. Not many like it in this country leastwise not hereabouts. Did any of you" he spoke impersonally,

"Certainly I've heard of Lugers," declared Elbert. He was a bit pale. "I've seen them. German guns. I I

As Elbert paused, there came an unexpected interruption. Johanna had heard the conversation. Elbert's last

"Ach! Das Luger!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "Yah. I have remember. You want you should see it?"

"Yah," repeated the housekeeper. "Mr. Breck he one time say: 'Johanna. This have come from the old

country. Luger.' Come with me. I show you where it is put. I have forgotten until this time right now."

As Johanna walked from the room, Forey beckoned the others to follow. The housekeeper lead the way

upstairs. She took the side passage and entered Grantham Breck's study. She went to the end of a bookcase;

there, the housekeeper removed a handful of books and pressed against the back. Something clicked; a little

Springing forward, Forey pushed Johanna to one side. Thrusting his hand in the aperture, the sheriff brought

out an automatic pistol. Harry Vincent recognized at once that the gun was a Luger. All were tense while

Forey made his examination. The sheriff was solemn as he turned to face the group.

"The caliber of this Luger," declared Forey, "is different from that of an American gun. What is more, it is the

caliber of the pistol which discharged the bullet through the heart of Grantham Breck.

"One shot has been fired from this pistol. I don't need an expert to tell me the answer. Grantham Breck was

killed by a shot that was fired from his own gun. What is more: the murderer came here and replaced the

Gasps of amazement. Harry Vincent was bewildered. He saw an astonished look upon Craven's face. He

A short quiz followed. Elbert and Craven disclaimed all knowledge of the gun's existence. Johanna was

above suspicion, for she had revealed the hiding place. The woman said that she had seen Grantham Breck

BEFORE Sheriff Tim Forey left the Breck house, he summoned two deputies to come there. He had reason to

keep them at the place since it was established that the murderer had been a visitor there. After the deputies

arrived, Harry Vincent remarked that he would have to send a telegram to New York. The sheriff told him to

On the way, Forey talked a bit. The finding of the gun puzzled him. Yet it did not shake his confidence in

Harry. Forey stated that he wanted Harry to be as observant as before. Their conversation ended when they

Harry sent a telegram to Rutledge Mann. The station agent went back to his table. The two men left. It was

between train time; the platform was deserted; but again, Harry had a feeling of uneasiness. The reason

became apparent after the coupe had departed. It was then that Perry Nubin shuffled into view.

The railroad dick entered the station. Zach Hoyler looked up from his key. Nubin nodded. He waved for

"I got it," declared Nubin, when Hoyler had finished sending the telegrams. "'New developments prevent

present departure. Send full details regarding my securities.' Was that all of it, Hoyler?"

"Sent by this guy Vincent," observed Nubin. "Same address as the last one, wasn't it?"

"I don't know," snapped Hoyler, angrily. "Say you must think Tim Forey swore me in as a deputy."

"Keep your shirt on, Hoyler. I've got a right to know what the sheriff said to you."

"He didn't say anything. This fellow Vincent gave me the telegram. That's all. Say you're a dick. You've got

some authority, even though it isn't as much as you put on. Why don't you go down and see Forey?"

"Say you're wise, aren't you? Listen, Hoyler. If you want to keep this job of yours, you'd better show less

"Yeah. Maybe. I guess you could by planting a bottle of hooch in this table drawer. I wouldn't put it past you,

With this bitter assertion, Zach Hoyler arose and went through the inside door into the baggage room. Perry

Nubin stood by the ticket window, an angry snarl on his lips. Then, with clenched fists, the dick turned and

As he had told Hoyler, the detective started off along the tracks. He headed in the direction of the grade

crossing. But he did not go far along the right of way. Skidding down the embankment, he cut across fields

A FEW hours later, an autogiro dropped from the sky and landed in the clearing on the hill. The figure that

emerged from the ship was as vague as a living specter. Silently it moved through the woods; then traveled

A light was burning in a window. It indicated Harry Vincent's room. The figure of The Shadow appeared,

looming inward from the window. Gloved fingers opened an envelope. Burning eyes perused a coded report

The Shadow departed, His vague form circled the silent house. Tonight, however, The Shadow detected no

sounds or tokens of a prowler. Perry Nubin had left a short while before The Shadow's return.

SHERIFF TIM FOREY was seated in his office. This room was located on the first floor of a little building

just off the main street of Chanburg. It had once housed a shoe shop. Battered doors, ramshackle windows

vied with the furnishings. For Tim Forey's chairs and desk looked like relics of the early nineties.

It was evening two nights after the discovery of the Luger pistol in Grantham Breck's study. The death gun

was at present lying upon Forey's desk. The sheriff was discussing it with the prosecutor.

"I'm keeping the pistol here," declared Forey. "Wired New York yesterday. An expert's coming up here.

"Do you know" Forey arose and walked over by the halfopened window "this case is getting mighty

"That bunch of bank robbers, seven years ago? That was tough all right, but it was different. That was a man

"Yes. That was bad. But there was no mystery about it. Those birds were fugitives from justice. Hiding out

"Mighty sure. There was a bunch of them came in on the Union Valley. Some of them dropped off here.

Dobbin was with that part of the gang. The rest kept on never heard of again and it's likely they had the

"We learned Dobbin's crowd was about. We fought it out with them. Up on the hill, over by the railroad. I

shot down Dobbin myself. Say" Forey chuckled "it's lucky that Ezekiel Twinton wasn't living up on the

"I suppose so," nodded the prosecutor. "The Dobbin gang set fire to the old Pastely farmhouse, didn't they?"

"Yeah. It was empty at the time and they made a stand there until we drove them out. But it's funny, Mr.

Trobers, you mentioning that fight with the bank robbers and my remembering that they had come in on the

"There was a fellow in here this morning. A railroad detective. His name was Perry Nubin. Told me that if I

thought any marauders were about, to be sure and let him know. Said he'd cleaned all the bums off this

"That we were looking for one smart guy not a gang. I showed him the Luger pistol. He said it was a right

"No. Nubin said he was going over to another division; that's why he dropped in. Said he wanted to be sure

everything was right; that he wouldn't be back here for a week or more. But he looked to me like he was all

"Yeah. He lives here in town. I met him when he was going on duty; I wanted to make sure that this fellow

Nubin really worked for the Union Valley. Zach told me Nubin is trying to make a big hit with the company.

He was dropped by the B and R; that was a comedown, so he's trying to impress his new boss with his

"The mentality of a railroad detective," remarked the prosecutor, "is sometimes confined to devising new

"You said it, prosecutor," chuckled Forey. "Those legal terminals you use are pips."

The prosecutor smiled as he arose from his chair. Tim Forey pulled down the window and started to close the

catch. It was broken, so he shrugged his shoulders. He dropped the Luger in a desk drawer and pushed the

"I'm watching things out at Breck's," he remarked. "Got a good reason to have deputies there now. If young

Elbert tries anything sneaky, they'll nab him. I'm having them watch Craven, too."

"He's all right. Maybe the others are, too. I'm keeping an eye on the outside that is, for suspects. If Ezekiel

"Thinks there's prowlers as usual. Only they never get near the house, so he says. I think the guy's cuckoo. I'd

be, if I lived in a place with only a deaf servant and a chink cook who can't talk English."

SHERIFF and prosecutor had shifted to the door. Forey turned out the light. They departed; there was a click

of the sheriff's key that denoted the locking of the door. Then silence. After that, the unlocked window moved

A swish sounded in the sheriff's office. A tiny light glimmered on the desk. A gloved hand opened the drawer

The master of darkness had listened in on the sheriff's conversation. He was here to examine the death gun.

His left hand arranged the flashlight on the desk; his right glove slid clear of his hand. Producing a sheet of

Written thoughts that faded as the ink dried. The Shadow was considering the history of this weapon. His

ideas would have amazed Tim Forey. The sheriff, balked by circumstances, had made no deductions

This was the first statement that faded. The Shadow knew that the old lawyer, prowling up the hill side,

These two words told what had happened. Grantham Breck had encountered an enemy who had overpowered

him. In the fight, the antagonist had gained the Luger pistol. He had slain the lawyer with the weapon.

The first word told of the murderer's finding. The second, his immediate plan of putting Grantham Breck's

body in the smoke house. The third referred to the gun. A soft laugh came from The Shadow's lips.

The Shadow was recalling Harry Vincent's report. On the night of the murder, Harry had heard footsteps in

Breck's house. He had encountered only Craven, who had told Harry and the deputy that he, too, had heard

footsteps. That, logically, was the time when the gun had been put back in Grantham Breck's study.

The Shadow was comparing two points. First, that someone must have known the location of the smoke

house; second that someone also knew where the Luger belonged. Had there been no time interval between

the bestowal of the body and the replacement of the gun, it would have meant that one person knew both

But the time interval made it possible for two persons to have figured. First: the murderer, who like anyone

who had seen Breck's grounds would have known about the locked smoke house. Second: a crafty schemer,

Whether one or two were involved, the man upon whom The Shadow must concentrate was the schemer who

had replaced the gun. Yet The Shadow was missing no point. Roughly, he specified the time interval:

A soft, whispered laugh as the written thoughts vanished. The Shadow resumed his deductions with a new

This referred to the chief criminal concerned. The Shadow was considering the matter of the pistol. Whoever

had replaced it had most certainly visited Grantham Breck by that side door. The two must have been good

friends. Otherwise, the lawyer would not have shown the visitor the hiding place where he kept the Luger.

Johanna had been the only other person to see the pistol. Old Breck had shown it to her by coincidence.

Words and the pistol were both before The Shadow's burning gaze. Again the soft laugh whispered. There

must be some definite reason why Grantham Breck had brought the weapon from its hiding place to let his

Crime had been brewing. Grantham Breck and his visitor had been hatching misdeeds between them.

Figuring ways and means, the old lawyer had produced the Luger pistol. It had been an inspiration. Then

GRANTHAM BRECK had not played fair. It was plain that he had been working with some man of crime.

The lawyer should have stayed indoors. The period of the visit had been followed by Grantham Breck's new

Why should the lawyer have jeopardized his position by becoming a prowler? He had been visited by a

crook. This man had minions. The answer was obvious. During a lull that had followed the visits, the old

lawyer had started out on his own. The crook was watching. He had brought in thugs to aid him. Grantham

Breck had been intercepted on his way up the hill. He had received the crook's answer to a doublecrosser:

Swag. The Shadow knew that answer. Tim Forey's chance remarks had been illuminating. Some crook knew

that the wealth of the Dobbin gang was buried hereabouts. It must be on the hill, in the property that Ezekiel

Hence Grantham Breck's offer to buy that land. A New York lawyer who had dealt with crooks, Grantham

Breck had been approached by some member of the evil fraternity. Had he bought the property, the hidden

spoils could have been easily regained. Failing in that, Grantham Breck had advised the crook to bring in a

Again the laugh. The Shadow was linking all this with the Luger pistol. He could see Grantham Breck as an

advisor, as canny in plans of crime as he had been when facing juries. One more written thought concluded

The crook had brought in his crew. That meant that the time to move had been approaching. But instead of

going after the swag, Grantham Breck had been slain. Perhaps the mob had been brought early, on the

The move would be coming soon. The murder of the old lawyer had delayed it. The discovery of the Luger

pistol might well mean another short delay. But the move would come; and it would be ordered by the master

The Shadow would wait. No need to strike until the move was made. But meanwhile, he would piece more

The little light went out. The Luger was shifted back into the drawer. A swish; the drawer closed. Half a

The Shadow had listened. He had made his deductions. Forgetting nothing in the past or present, the unseen

IT was after midnight. The Union Limited had gone through. Zach Hoyler's duty was nearly ended. After the

arrival and departure of the Dairy Express, his day's work would be over. The station agent was coming from

his little ticket office when the door of the waiting room opened. In stepped Perry Nubin.

Hoyler was surprised to see the railroad dick. Nubin grinned as the station agent stared at him. He seemed to

"Wondering how I came in tonight, eh?" asked Nubin. "I guess old Number Three pounded through here

Hoyler nodded. Number Three was the Union Limited. The train had been running late; Hoyler had received

a wire stating that it would not stop at Chanburg unless passengers were waiting. Hoyler had wired back that

"Well," chuckled Nubin, "I was aboard. Thought I wasn't going to get off, but she slowed up near the grade

Hoyler nodded. He doubted the detective's explanation. There was no reason why the Limited should have

slowed when it neared the spot where the hill road crossed the tracks. Nevertheless, Hoyler deemed it unwise

"I knew you were around town this morning," said the agent, "but I didn't expect you back. Went out this

"Sure," replied the detective. "But I thought I'd better make a quick trip in and out tonight. Just to make sure

"Well, you don't always know everything," growled Nubin. "But I'll take your word for it. Say I saw that

"Just wanted to be sure you were a railroad dick" Hoyler paused to grin "so I told him you were. Gave

you a good boost, Nubin. Said you'd once worked for the B and R, but changed to the Union Valley. Told

"More wisecracks, eh? Well, if that yap with the tin star asks you anything more, tell him I came in on the

"Yeah," replied Nubin, "and if you keep an eye out, I'll show you how neat I can get aboard. Stick here on the

One of the waitingroom windows was open. Peering eyes were looking in from the blackness. Keen ears

were listening. The Shadow had chosen this post; yet neither Hoyler nor Nubin was aware of the fact. Agent

and detective were making for the platform; already, the whistle of the Dairy Express was blaring for the

"Going back to a milk route, eh?" laughed Hoyler, as Nubin started to cut across the tracks. "Well, riding

Nubin made no response to this jest. He disappeared beyond a freight car on the siding. Hoyler turned to

watch the approaching glare of the Dairy Express as the train came grinding down the rails.

THE train was a heavy one. The wheels of the big Mogul spun when the locomotive started forward after the

brief stop. Zach Hoyler remained on the platform, watching the long line of black milk cars move slowly by.

As the rear of the train was nearing, a figure sprang outward from between two cars. Perry Nubin waved a

Hoyler watched the train curve around the nearby bend, its speed still low. He walked back into the station, to

The first concerned Perry Nubin. It was something that Hoyler could not possibly have observed, because of

the intervening bend. Three hundred yards up the track, the railroad dick dropped from his perch and landed

sprawling beside the right of way. He crouched there until the train had passed; then lingered, planning to

The second occurrence was one that Hoyler might have witnessed had he been outside the station. From the

darkness beside the waitingroom window, a spectral figure moved across the platform. For a few brief

moments, lights showed the vague outline of The Shadow. Then the phantom shape merged with the

darkness. The Shadow had headed along the tracks in the direction from which the Dairy Express had come.

Shortly afterward, the station was blotted out by darkness. Zach Hoyler had started for town in his old

roadster. No one was near the station. Perry Nubin had approached; then made a short cut over toward the

Later, a light glimmered in the old shack halfway to the grade crossing. The Shadow had entered the little

building. His keen eyes were studying odd scraps of newspaper and empty bottles. Some of these objects had

A soft laugh crept from The Shadow's lips. The little light went out. The Shadow moved away from the

shack. His course led him back to the station. Finding that all was silent there, The Shadow began a stealthy

THIS investigation had required more than a half hour. Hence The Shadow had not reached the vicinity of the

Breck house when a certain event took place within that building. The happening there concerned Harry

Sheriff Tim Forey had placed two deputies on duty. One was asleep in the living room; the other in a

bedroom on the second floor. Harry Vincent, however, was awake. As he sat by the little table, The Shadow's

Craven? Harry recalled that the servant had spent a long time in the kitchen earlier in the evening. About

midnight, the man had gone upstairs. Harry stole softly to the hall and listened. He heard nothing more.

Harry tiptoed to the door of Elbert Breck's room. He tried the knob. The door was locked. Harry could see

Elbert's window from his own, so he went back and peered out from his window. He made a prompt

discovery. Hanging from Elbert's window was a ropelike object formed of trunk straps buckled together.

Elbert had made a secret exit from the house. How long ago, Harry did not know. He recalled that Elbert had

gone to his room at eleven o'clock. It was nearly one o'clock now. Hastily, Harry added lines to his report. He

folded all the sheets and placed them in an envelope. Stealthily he left his room and found the back stairs to

There was no lock on the door that led to the back porch. The barrier was fitted with two bolts; both of these

had been drawn. This meant that Craven, like Elbert Breck, could also be roaming at large. Yet if both were

out, they must be acting independently; otherwise they would have chosen the same means of exit. This bore

out Harry's positive belief that Elbert and Craven had no common plan between them.

Harry went outside and closed the door behind him. Staring across the fields, he was sure that he saw a figure

prowling toward the hill. The starlight gave only a momentary glimpse. This was the direction in which

Harry was sure Elbert or Craven would have gone. The Shadow's agent headed toward the hill.

SEVERAL minutes later, The Shadow arrived beside the house. His keen eyes spied the string of straps

hanging from Elbert Breck's window. Swiftly, The Shadow used this contrivance to reach the second floor.

The key was on the inside of the door. The Shadow unlocked the barrier, made his gliding way to Harry's

room and read his agent's report. He returned, locked Elbert's door from the inside and made a prompt exit by

Up ahead, Harry Vincent had passed the road where he had found the body of Grantham Breck. Creeping

along the slope beyond, Harry held his breath and listened. He was sure that he heard soft sounds from the

night. He knew that one man was up ahead. But he also felt sure that there was another lurking over to the

Harry kept straight ahead, gripping the revolver that was in his pocket. He felt confident that The Shadow

would soon be here; but much depended upon how soon the mysterious master visited Breck's to gain Harry's

Of one thing, Harry was certain as he neared the brow of the slope and saw the dim outline of Ezekiel

Twinton's house. Paths were converging on the hill. Crosspurposes were at work. Danger perhaps death

ALL became tense as Harry Vincent crouched close by the fence line that had once marked the boundary of

Ezekiel Twinton's property. Listening, Harry felt sure that stealthy men were on the move. Harry sensed that

A mastiff growled. One of Twinton's dogs had scented a prowler. Then came another growl; a hound yapped.

The deepthroated, warning bark of the first mastiff broke from the darkness. A lull followed.

Someone had approached too close to the house. The intruder had shifted away; still, the dogs were growling.

Harry was positive that Ezekiel Twinton must have been awakened by the noise. One minute passed; then a

bright light flashed from beneath the roof of the back porch. Ezekiel Twinton stepped into view.

The light was powerful. Harry could make out Twinton's attire. The hilltop dweller was clad in slippers,

trousers and shirt. Peering from his porch, he looked for prowlers within the range of light that formed a

Harry, himself, could see a figure that had stopped on the very fringe of the light. This man was close to the

ground. Had Twinton spied the man also? Or had he observed some other lurker in the gloom? Harry drew

Ezekiel Twinton was coming forward, his glinting gun half raised. Suddenly, he made a swift leap directly

toward the figure that Harry had observed. The huddled man came to his feet and sprang into the darkness.

Twinton pounced upon him. They grappled; then the prowler went sprawling just beyond the edge of the

Twinton was quick as a cat. He seemed intent upon capturing his prey. He bounded forward, instead of using

his revolver. He, too, was leaping into darkness. Then came the sudden finish, just as Twinton grappled with

A vivid flash accompanied the burst of a gun. The shot came from the spot where the men were struggling.

Harry heard a hoarse cry; then a groan. With an instinctive shout, The Shadow's agent sprang forward, raising

Harry did not use his flashlight, for he did not want to betray his exact position. Hence his action produced

immediate effect. Footsteps rustled in the grass. As Harry paused, he heard panting. Men were scurrying off

The Shadow's agent clicked his flashlight and sent its beam traveling in a wide sweep. For the fraction of a

second, the glare revealed one speeding form; then another. But when Harry tried to focus the light on either

spot, he found that he was too late. Though he had caught a flash of two prowlers, Harry knew that there were

three at least. Still approaching the scene of the conflict, he moved the light more slowly. He discovered no

A groan from the ground ahead. Convinced that no sniper could be close enough to pick him with a pot shot,

Harry advanced to the spot where he had heard the sound. He turned his light upon a huddled figure. He

THE house owner was the person who had received the shot. Twinton's staring eyes were glassy. Harry knew

that the man was dying. He spoke to Twinton. Lips moved in response; but they uttered no sound. With a

Blood stained the shirt as Harry now saw it. Twinton had been shot in the back. His revolver was lying on the

ground beside him. Again, Harry swept his light about, hoping that he might spot the killer. He discovered no

Commotion from the porch. Quickly extinguishing his light, Harry gazed in that direction. Two men had

arrived there: Dunmore, the old deaf servant, was standing with Lang Sook, the cook. The Chinaman was

babbling a lingo that Dunmore could not have understood even if he had heard it.

Barks and growls had arisen from about the house. The dogs were excited. Yet Harry, crouched in the

darkness beside Ezekiel Twinton's body, was waiting. He had no purpose other than his indignation at this

deal of death. He wanted to get the murderer. Neither Dunmore nor Lang Sook had nerve enough to venture

Still Harry lingered. Then came a hiss. Startled, Harry listened. Then he heard the whisper of The Shadow.

The silent master had arrived too late to witness crime. He wanted the facts that Harry could give him.

In a low, tense voice, Harry told all he knew. He sensed that his information was vague. Moreover, nearly ten

minutes had elapsed since the tragedy. The Shadow, however, made no comment while Harry spoke. The

Harry nodded. Pocketing his revolver, he arose and went away through the darkness. He had begun to realize

his own folly. He belonged in the house at the bottom of the hill; yet he had lingered here by the dead body of

The Shadow's tiny flashlight glimmered after Harry had departed. Keen eyes studied the position of Ezekiel

Twinton's form. The Shadow observed the flattened grass. His light showed the area of the brief struggle. It

Dunmore and Lang Sook had reappeared upon the porch. The old servant was carrying a lighted kerosene

lamp. The Chinaman had armed himself with a large carving knife. Together, they stepped to the ground and

advanced with caution. The Shadow moved off into the darkness. He waited and watched.

A gasp came from Dunmore's lips when the servant discovered the body of Ezekiel Twinton. Lang Sook

babbled incoherently in Chinese. Dunmore raised the lantern to form a larger circle of light. He did not see

The servant signed to the cook. Lang Sook seemed to understand. Extinguishing the lantern, Dunmore laid it

on the ground. He and the Chinaman lifted Twinton's body and carried the inert form into the house. After the

door had closed, The Shadow's light again flickered here and there. At last it went out altogether. A soft laugh

HARRY VINCENT had lost no time in heading back for the house below the hill. He realized that others

could have reached this goal far ahead of him. When he arrived, Harry tried the back door. It opened. Softly,

The Shadow's agent entered and stole up to his room. His first action was to attire himself in pajamas. Then

Harry heard a sound in the hall. Then came the gruff challenge of a deputy. Feigning sleepiness, Harry

opened the door of his room and stepped into view. He discovered the deputy speaking to Craven. The

"Down in the kitchen, sir," responded Craven. "I fancied that I heard a sound down there. I went to

"Yes, sir that is, all right now, sir" Craven hesitated "the back door was unbolted. But I believe that was

"No, sir. I thought that you would do so. Mr. Forey said that you were in charge here, sir."

The deputy nodded to Harry and strolled back into his room. Harry returned to his own quarters. Scarcely had

he closed the door before he heard a scraping sound outside the window. Looking out, he saw Elbert Breck

coming up the chain of straps. The young man gained the window and drew the improvised rope up after him.

Harry pondered as he inscribed a brief report. He knew that Elbert had been out; he was sure that Craven had

also left the house. He pictured the two men upon the hill, both fleeing after Harry's shout.

But why had they not arrived back before him? With fifteen minutes' start, both had shown up fifteen minutes

after Harry's arrival. Why the half hour interval? All the way down the hill, Harry had worried for fear that

Craven had arrived ahead to bolt the door. Now he was sure he knew the reason why the barrier had still been

All this would be new mystery for The Shadow. Harry completed his report and went to bed. He was asleep

when soft squidges sounded from outside his window. The figure of The Shadow appeared. Keen eyes read

LATER, the phantom figure was lurking by the railroad tracks, near the abandoned shack. Listening, The

Shadow heard footsteps upon the ties. He knew the identity of the man who walked by. It was Perry Nubin,

The dick turned from the tracks and used a flashlight to find his way to the little shack. The light glimmered

for a short while. The Shadow could see its glow through the grimy windows. Then the light blinked out.

The Shadow moved into darkness. His form became apparent later on, when it glided from the dark street

beside the sheriff's office and passed beneath the glow of a light on the main street. A fleeting patch of

The final token of The Shadow's presence occurred in the little clearing where the autogiro was stationed.

There, far from habitations, The Shadow indulged in a burst of mockery that came in bitter, sinister tones.

The sound died. Echoes lisped their answer. All was silent. The Shadow had been too late to intercept murder

on the hill. But he had gained facts that might lead to its solution. There was an omen in The Shadow's laugh.

The murder of Ezekiel Twinton had been unanticipated. A curious crosscurrent of events had caused it. The

death of the man on the hill was due to produce new situations. The Shadow knew that it would be the

THE next afternoon found Sheriff Tim Forey in his office. Two men were with him, One was Norman

Trobers, the county prosecutor. The other was Harry Vincent. Tim Forey was discussing murder on the hill.

"Two fools!" exclaimed the sheriff. "Dunmore and that Chink cook. They had no telephone; so they kept

watch over that body until morning. Then they got word in to me hours after Ezekiel Twinton was

"No," growled Forey. "That dry ground left no footprints. I figure Ezekiel Twinton put up a fight; then he was

"I've got the bullet" Forey produced a slug from the desk drawer "and I won't have to send it into New

York. The expert is due here this afternoon. Maybe he can tell something about it."

Forey dropped the bullet back in the drawer. It clanked alongside the Luger. The sheriff rested back in his

"I brought Vincent in here on a pretext," he explained to the prosecutor. "Since he found Grantham Breck's

body, it was natural that he should see Ezekiel Twinton's corpse also. But the real reason I brought him in for

was to talk about this butler, Craven. One of the deputies reported that the fellow was moving around last

"Inside, the deputy says," replied Forey. "But he could have gone out as well. He might have been coming

back when the deputy spotted him. Listen, Vincent, did you see or hear Craven go out of the house last

"No," responded Harry. "I heard the deputy challenge him in the hall. Craven gave his explanation about the

"What about Elbert Breck?" questioned Trobers. "Do you think he could have sneaked out the back way,

"No," replied Harry. "As a matter of fact, Elbert locked himself in his room for the night."

The explanation sufficed. Harry said nothing more. He knew that he must preserve silence that he might aid

The Shadow. Accusations of either Craven or Elbert would bring a definite quiz. Harry knew that he might be

forced to declare his own actions of last night. That would end his usefulness by making him a possible

"Here's the way I figure it," asserted Forey, in abrupt fashion. "Old Grantham Breck was a cagy sort. He had

something up his sleeve. There was something fishy about him wanting to buy some of Twinton's property.

"Like as not the actual murderer cleared out. But somebody stuck around. Whoever did was prowling like

Grantham Breck had done. This fellow ran into Twinton and killed him last night. Now who was the fellow?"

"You've hit it, prosecutor," agreed Forey. "Well, there's Craven. He was pretty faithful to old Grantham

Breck. He knows the lawyer was acting funny. Maybe that's all that Craven knows. But maybe he knows

"Then there's young Elbert Breck. He was hanging out over in Laporte. Using an alias. He may have been

snooping into his father's affairs; on the contrary, he may have been trying to get back in the old man's good

"But that's not all. Maybe there was somebody on the outside. Somebody who had no business hereabouts.

Some fellow who was in cahoots with Grantham Breck. That bird if there is such a one is still about. I'm

"Yeah," remarked Forey. "The other led us to the Luger pistol but that only mixed things up worse. Say I

FOREY arose and began to pace the room. As if in answer to his impatience, there was a knock at the door.

Forey opened it to admit a quietfaced, middleaged man who was carrying a heavy suitcase.

The arrival nodded. Forey introduced himself and shook hands. He followed by introducing the expert to the

"Before I have you examine the Luger gun," declared Forey, "I've got another slug I want you to look at.

There was a second murder here last night. Fellow named Ezekiel Twinton was killed up by his house on the

Forey produced the slug from the desk drawer. The expert opened his bag, brought out a powerful

microscope and laid the bullet upon a little piece of cloth. Moving over by the window, he started a

preliminary examination which ended promptly. He laid the microscope on the desk.

"You've made a mistake, sheriff," he announced, as he advanced with the bullet resting on the cloth.

"I understood," declared Hubert, "that the Luger pistol was in your possession."

"Then you have given me the wrong bullet. This is the one that you sent to New York for examination."

"Not at all." Forey laughed gruffly as he reached into the desk drawer. "Here's the slug that killed Grantham

"Perhaps you made a slip," put in the prosecutor. "Maybe you have given Mr. Hubert the wrong bullet."

Forey handed over the bullet. The expert placed it beside the one that he already held. His forehead showed a

wrinkled frown. He picked up the microscope. His examination was brief. He turned to the sheriff.

"You were right, Sheriff," he declared. "This bullet from the match box is the one that I examined previously.

He paused and stared into the opened drawer of the desk. He saw the Luger pistol and directed an inquiring

"Sure," responded Forey. "One shot fired. I've kept it right here ever since we found it."

"This second bullet," declared the expert, in a serious tone, "is the reason why I must examine the pistol

"It will be the pistol that discharged the second bullet also. These bullets" Hubert was holding his hand flat

and moving it up and down "are not only of the same Luger caliber. They are identical in markings. Each

SHERIFF FOREY gaped. The expert was nodding solemnly. With a gruff ejaculation, Forey reached in the

desk drawer and pulled out the pistol that he had found in Grantham Breck's study. He opened the weapon.

"By George!" exclaimed Forey. "Someone has got at this gun. There's a second cartridge missing! You are

right, Mr. Hubert! Prosecutor" Forey shook his head "we're up against a mighty clever murderer. He used

The prosecutor was on his feet. He pointed to the window at the side of the office. He stepped over and

"That's it," he decided. "Say have I been dumb. That killer was looking for trouble last night. But he didn't

want us to get wise to him. He knew the Luger has us puzzled. So he sneaked in here and armed himself with

"That side street is black as pitch at night. Anybody could sneak into town without being seen. After he took

the gun and killed Twinton, the guy came back. Left the Luger here just to make a sap of me to have us

"It wouldn't take a smart gazebo to pull that stunt. But the clever part was the idea. We're as bad off as we

were before. Humph. The guy did it neat. No traces here in the office. Well, prosecutor, you'll have to keep

"How soon could the man have gotten here after the murder?" inquired Trobers. "I presume that he would

"Well," mused Forey, "by cutting across lots, he could have passed the Breck house inside of ten minutes.

Fifteen more would have got him to the top of the hill, I reckon. He could have made as good time maybe

"I'm thinking nothing, prosecutor. Not until Mr. Hubert has examined this Luger gun. But I guess it's a sure

Harry Vincent was pondering as he drove back along the devious road to Elbert Breck's home. He was

considering the travel time, by foot, between Breck's and the sheriff's office. Ten minutes each way twenty

altogether. Harry began to see a possible reason for the late returns of Craven and Elbert Breck. But there his

thoughts divided. He would prepare a report; the rest would remain with The Shadow.

Harry Vincent did not know that The Shadow, last night, had found evidence to prove that someone other

than Elbert and Craven could have been up the hill and back into the town. The Shadow was watching events

The vital point of Harry's report would be the news that the second bullet was fired from the Luger pistol.

SHERIFF TIM FOREY was paradoxical in his methods. There were times when the bigfisted official

remained closemouthed. On other occasions, he decided to talk. No one not even Forey himself could

Forey had tried to preserve secrecy about the death of Grantham Breck. Possibly his failure to track the

murderer had made him decide to work differently in the case of Ezekiel Twinton. Whatever the reason, the

People discussed the matter in the town of Chanburg. They carried it with them to Laporte, and other

neighboring places. Forey began to feel that he had chosen a good plan. Certain it was that someone had

prowled into town last night. There was a chance that some native might bring in word of having seen the

But Chanburg was a nine o'clock town. Anything that happened after midnight would fail to raise the

fastsleeping burghers. In this section of the hinterland, nothing short of a fire whistle could have aroused the

There was one exception to the rule. Occasionally, people were about at eleven thirty on account of the

arrival of the Union Limited. Enterprising folk sometimes came home on that train. There were others,

Harry Vincent was scheduled to stay longer in Chanburg. This made it wise for him to send a routine

telegram to Rutledge Mann. Harry happened to go over to the station just about the time the Union Limited

was scheduled to arrive. The windows of the waiting room were open when Harry got there. The Shadow's

agent heard voices. He found three passengers for the Union Limited talking outside the ticket window. The

Harry received a telegraph blank from Zach Hoyler. The agent went back to his table; Harry listened in while

he was writing out the message to Mann. The men from town were discussing the developments of the day.

"SAY," said one, "it ain't no secret now why Tim Forey's been looking glum. That first murder had him

"Don't hold a candle to the second murder," grunted a second man. "Boy! I'll bet Forey went cuckoo when he

found out the fellow had swiped that German gun and put it back again. Used it to kill Ezekiel Twinton, by

"Forey's worried," announced the third townsman. "Do you know what he's after? He's hoping that somebody

"Listen, fellows," he said. "We're live wires, us three. So we can talk together; but don't let nobody in town

know what I said. Chanburg's just about the deadest town on the map. I say that even though I do live there."

"I reckon not," replied the first. "Say if we had a nine o'clock curfew most of the folks would complain

"I know it. Well here's what I'm driving at. That smart fellow who took that gun and put it back in Tim's

office knew he was plenty safe. There's two places around here where nobody won't see you if you walk

The other townsmen laughed. Their conversation ended abruptly. The whistle of the Limited had sounded.

Harry Vincent lingered until after the train had left. He pushed the telegram through the ticket window, just

as the station agent returned. Turning to go out, Harry ran into a stocky man who had just entered. He saw a

square, challenging face. It was Harry Vincent's first meeting with Perry Nubin.

The Shadow's agent left. Nubin strolled about. After he heard the coupe roll away, the dick peered through

the ticket window. Hoyler had not yet picked up Harry's telegram. Nubin drew it from the window, read it

"WELL, gumshoe," greeted the agent. "I suppose you were riding stylish again tonight."

"Yeah," responded the detective. "Say I was down in Laporte today. What's this I hear about another

"Someone did. Too bad you weren't working in back of this window, Hawkshaw. You'd have heard all about

"Tim Forey let the details out. He had the pistol down in his office the one that was used to murder old

Breck and somebody climbed in there. Used the same gun to bump off Twinton. Then put it back."

"It won't do them much good," remarked Nubin. "It's tough to trace any killer through a foreignmade gun."

"Well" Nubin paused "most guns have a history, leastwise the kind that murderers use. But if old Breck

imported that rod direct from Germany or got it from a smuggler there wouldn't be much chance of

"I didn't say so, but I expect he is. Maybe Tim figures there'll be some more shooting."

"So he's put the rod out of sight, eh? Well, that may bring in some American gats."

"Funny thing," suggested Hoyler, "about old Breck having that pistol in the first place. Tim thinks he was

"Nutty, I guess," growled Nubin. "He's the kind of bird who would have wanted something different. Say"

the dick changed the subject "what about this guy Vincent? Has he been sending these telegrams very

"Must think he's a big shot, worrying so much about his investments. Say that fellow Ezekiel Twinton lived

"Tim Forey moved them down into town, I understand. Leaving the old house empty. I guess he brought the

"Why should there be? There's nothing in that house worth stealing. If there is, it would be easier to move it

"Guess you're right. Say, Hoyler, tap this through for me." Nubin reached for a telegraph blank. "Buddy of

mine used to work on the B and R. Out of a job in New York; thought maybe I could place him on the Union

"Anything like you?" questioned the agent, while Nubin was writing the telegram. "If he is, that wire don't go

"There it is," retorted Nubin, shoving the telegram under the wicket. "Send it and keep the wisecracks for

THE Dairy Express was on time. It came grinding into the station before Hoyler had a chance to send the

telegram. Perry Nubin hopped on between milk cars. He waved to Hoyler as the train pulled out. Number

Sixtyeight was lighter than usual. Hoyler watched the train gather speed as it reached the bend.

When the agent came back into the station, he entered the ticket office and picked up the two telegrams.

There was a third one lying beneath the others; one that Hoyler had forgotten. It was a message that he had

That wire had been phoned in shortly before Harry Vincent's arrival. It made Zach Hoyler ponder. The

telegram was addressed to Powers Glidden, who was evidently a New York attorney. It stated that the sender

Hoyler was wondering why Harry had not brought the telegram. He was also puzzled by the signature. It was

simply one name: "Breck." Hoyler recalled the voice that had come over the wire; its tones had been those of

It seemed logical that Elbert might have given Craven the message to send. Perhaps he had formulated the

telegram after Harry Vincent had departed for the station. The single name "Breck" was also explainable; but

Hoyler had pondered upon the fact that it could have applied to the dead father as well as to the living son.

Perry Nubin's telegram was to a man named Charles Bland. It was a suggestion that Bland should come to see

the detective at Laporte. It was signed by Nubin's full name. Zach Hoyler stacked Harry Vincent's telegram

Blackness blotted out the lights from the platform as Hoyler began to send the telegrams. That blackness

occupied a single window. The Shadow was close at hand. He had heard the conversation between the men

from town. More than that, he had seen Perry Nubin listening in outside an opened window.

The detective had not come in on the Limited; but he had actually gone out on the milk train. The Shadow

had watched the speed of the departing Dairy Express. He knew that Nubin could not have hopped off at the

The Shadow was listening to the clicks of Zach Hoyler's key. The agent was finishing for the night. The

Shadow listened to the ticks and read them plainly. He understood all the messages that were going over the

wire. Three pauses marked short intervals between the telegrams that Zach Hoyler dispatched. His task

completed, the agent left the little office, closed the windows, turned out the light and came through the door

Hoyler's roadster rumbled townward. The Shadow stood silent in the darkness. Then came the sound of his

shuddering, whispered laugh. The Shadow had gained the key to coming crime. In one of the telegrams that

Zach Hoyler had sent to New York, the master sleuth detected a summons that meant dangerous business.

LATER, The Shadow glided into the clearing by the autogiro. He opened a box in the cockpit of the ship. He

lifted earphones and gained contact with Burbank. Then came the sinister tones of The Shadow's weird

Orders to Burbank. Speaking from darkness, The Shadow gave them. The Shadow knew the goal that men of

crime were seeking. He knew that the move was coming; he knew the reason why. Over the shortwave

For The Shadow, keen in his study of two murders, had devised a clever scheme by which he could frustrate

the evil band that would soon be moving toward its longsought goal. Through bold success, The Shadow

Two nights later. A heavy freight came plodding along the line of the Union Valley. Couplings clanked; big

freight cars jolted as the engineer gave the brakes. The locomotive came to a stop nearly half a mile up the

line. The caboose was by the station platform. The conductor of the freight waved to Zach Hoyler, who was

"Cutting off up ahead," informed the conductor. "Dropping a couple of empties and picking up that

Zach Hoyler nodded. The refrigerator car had brought a consignment to Chanburg. The empty freight cars

were to be loaded on the morrow with a large shipment from a cannery located near Chanburg. The baggage

room already contained the first load of crates. They had been brought over early, by mistake.

Brakemen were hurrying along the tops. The train was cut about sixteen cars from the locomotive. The first

step was to pull further ahead to the end of the long siding; then to back and pick up the empty refrigerator

car. After that had been attached, the locomotive would again pull forward, back up and drop the pair of

A trainman was standing by the switch as the locomotive and the first sixteen cars went by. The pair of

empties were among the lot. The short first section took the curve just beyond the switch; then came to a stop.

The engineer was waiting for the swing of lanterns that would give him the signal to back. Members of the

While the first sixteen cars were at a standstill, doors opened on the far side of an empty car. Sweatered

figures dropped beside the track and scurried for the bushes on the upper embankment. They were crouched

there when the locomotive reversed. They waited until the lumbering "hog" had chugged back on to the

siding. Out of the headlight's glare, the waiting men scrambled back to the rails and jogged along the track.

None of the train crew saw them. Brakemen had moved back by the switch and beyond. Lost past the curve,

the jogging crew heeded the gruff voice of their leader. A dozen men scrambled down from the right of way.

The refrigerator car was attached; the empties were dropped. The whistle of the locomotive called in the flag

man. The couplings jerked; the conductor waved from the caboose. Zach Hoyler responded and went back

into the station before the rear lights of the train had disappeared around the bend. He heard the distant blare

A FEW passengers began to appear. They were coming to take the inbound local, which was soon due. The

agent stamped some tickets and attended to other details. The local arrived. Several passengers alighted and

took waiting automobiles back to town. Zach Hoyler settled down for his long wait until the Union Limited

The door of the waiting room opened. Two men entered. One was Harry Vincent; the other, Elbert Breck.

"Hardly," remarked Elbert. "Our phone went out of order a few hours ago. Send your telegram, Harry. I'll

Harry took a blank and wrote out another telegram to Rutledge Mann. This was still part of his policy. He had

received a dummy wire from Mann this morning; a reply was in order. Harry gave the message to the station

There was no one on the platform. Harry walked over to his coupe. Elbert was not in the car. Turning about,

Harry chanced to see his companion appearing from the far end of the platform. Elbert arrived at the coupe.

"Just taking a little walk along the track," remarked the young man. "Didn't know you had come out."

When they reached the house, Harry and Elbert found Tim Forey there. The sheriff seemed glum. He talked a

bit about the mysterious death of Ezekiel Twinton; he mentioned that the house on the hill had been closed.

These were facts which Harry and Elbert already knew. Craven happened in while Forey was talking; the

servant moved about and finally went into the kitchen. After a while, Forey decided to leave.

"I've sent the deputies back to town," informed the sheriff. "Keep the place locked up in case there's any

Forey shot a significant glance at Harry. The Shadow's agent understood. Baffled, Forey intended to allow

full leeway here. The sheriff did not know that Elbert Breck had been abroad on the night of Ezekiel

Perhaps the sheriff still suspected Craven. If so, he was relying upon Harry and perhaps Elbert. Harry nodded

in response to Forey's glance. He became thoughtful after the sheriff had left. Under ordinary circumstances,

Harry might have condemned himself for misleading the sheriff into thinking that all was well within this

But Harry was an agent of The Shadow. He knew that his service to the hidden investigator would offset any

neglect of duty to which Forey had assigned him. Not long after the sheriff's departure, Harry went upstairs

Coming downstairs, Harry discovered that Elbert Breck was absent from the living room. Harry knew that

Elbert had not gone up to his own room. Going out into the kitchen, Harry found the place empty. The back

CRAVEN, too, was missing. Had they started out on separate ways? Not knowing how soon The Shadow

might appear, Harry returned into the house and went up to add notations to his report. He estimated that

either Elbert or Craven could have been gone for half an hour Craven perhaps longer.

Footsteps, soft in the hall. Harry stepped from his room. It was Craven, coming down from the third floor.

Ostensibly, the servant had been in his room all the while. Harry began to have doubts of his own suspicions.

"No, sir," replied Craven. "I have been in my room ever since Mr. Forey left. I was just coming down to

As they reached the kitchen, the back door opened and Elbert Breck stepped into view. The heir seemed

"Taking a little stroll," he said to Harry. "Just here about the place. Thought you had gone to bed, or I would

That ended the matter. Craven looked up. It was nearly eleven. Harry strolled in and turned on the radio while

Elbert and Craven retired. A little while later, Harry went up and added a few notes to his report. He left the

TEN minutes before the Union Limited was due, a silent figure glided through the darkness near the railroad

station. The Shadow stopped, away from the lighted platform. There were no passengers tonight. Zach Hoyler

was standing at the outer end of the platform, leaning against a lightly loaded baggage truck.

Evidently the Limited was due on scheduled time. Other work finished, the agent had wheeled out the truck

and was whiling away the minutes that remained. At last came the sounds of the approaching Limited. The

train pounded into the station. The baggage went aboard. Off came three trunks and a square box. The final

The Limited pulled out. As Zach reached the door of the baggage room, a stocky figure stepped from the

"Back again," was his remark. "Getting to be a habit. Well, sleuth, there's three trunks and a box that just

Nubin passed up the trunks; but he studied the box while Hoyler was unlocking the outer door of the baggage

room. The detective said nothing; but a quizzical frown appeared upon his heavy forehead. The Shadow,

watching from darkness, observed the expression. So did Zach Hoyler, as he turned from the baggage room.

"Nothing in particular," he said, gruffly. "But I just found something better than fingerprints. Look at the

"Addressed to Grantham Breck!" exclaimed Hoyler, as he noted the name on the box. "Say I wonder where

"The old man hasn't been dead long," stated the detective. "Maybe this is something he ordered before he was

"Yes," admitted Hoyler, as he swung the box from the truck. "Mighty heavy, for its size."

"What are you going to do with the box?" questioned Nubin, as he followed to the door of the baggage room.

"Can't. He was over here earlier in the evening. Happened to mention that his phone was out of order."

Nubin hesitated at Hoyler's question. The detective was considering the consequences.

"Give the order," said Hoyler. "I'll pry the top loose. But remember the responsibility is yours. It's kind of

"Leave it lay," interposed Nubin. "But it's not going over to Breck's in the morning. This box is addressed to

Grantham Breck. You can't notify a dead man that a shipment is waiting for him."

"How about calling the sheriff?" questioned Hoyler. "Tim Forey has every right to open it. Maybe it might

"Somewhere downtown. Probably out at some fellow's house playing poker in the kitchen, with the window

shades down. That's the way they do round this town. Got to keep in right with the goodygoodies, you

"Suppose we wait until you're off duty," decided Nubin. "I was going out on Sixtyeight; but I think I'll stay

over. I'll run down with you and help look up the sheriff. Guess I could get a room in that house where you're

"Sure. The place is as big as a barn and there's only about three people rooming in it. The old lady will be

Hoyler locked the door of the baggage room. He had other details before the Dairy Express came through. He

mentioned that fact to Nubin. The detective nodded. After Hoyler went back into the station, Nubin strolled

about; then suddenly cut across the tracks and prowled past the empty freight cars.

AS on a previous night, The Shadow caught sight of the detective's outline as Nubin headed up past the green

signal. Tonight, however, The Shadow did not follow. He waited. At last the dick returned. He appeared at

the end of the station platform, just as the whistle of the Dairy Express sounded at the grade crossing above

The milk train arrived. Nubin joined Hoyler. The agent closed the station. The two men went away in

Hoyler's car. It was then that The Shadow moved along the darkened platform. He reached the door of the

waiting room; he picked the lock without the aid of his tiny light. Inside, The Shadow turned the lock as

Here the light glimmered. It shone on the table, where Hoyler, in his hurry, had left odd articles scattered

about; then it flashed toward the inside door to the baggage room. Suddenly the light went out, while The

He had heard sounds from outside. Quickly, The Shadow worked on the inside door of the baggage room. It

opened; the lock was not formidable. The Shadow stepped into the windowless room and locked the door

behind him. His light glimmered; he found a corner hiding place behind two trunks.

OUTSIDE, stealthy figures had approached the door of the waiting room. One man was working on the lock.

He had a key which seemed to serve his purpose; for after a few attempts, it did the work as effectively as

The man who had opened the door moved across the waiting room. He entered the ticket office. He flashed a

light upon the table. Then, after a pause, he turned the glare along the wall, to the door of the baggage room.

Producing a smallersized key, he worked on this lock. It yielded. The locks throughout this station were

The flashlight gleamed a half minute longer in the ticket office. Then came "Spike's" growl, through the

Followers obeyed. Half a dozen men followed Spike into the baggage room. Faces showed dimly above the

light as Spike picked out the box addressed to Grantham Breck. It occupied the center of the floor.

"Lug it," growled the leader. "Out the way we came. Maybe this is what we're looking for."

"Yeah." Spike's tone was noncommittal. "Well, we ain't opening it here. Hoist it along the track while I'm

Men moved out with the box. Spike followed. He locked the door behind him. Minutes passed. At last, The

Shadow moved. His soft laugh echoed in eerie fashion as its tones crept through the windowless baggage

This time The Shadow used his little light as he unlocked the outer door. The flashlight went out; The

Shadow stepped from the baggage room and locked the door behind him. Spike and his henchmen had

disappeared; but The Shadow had no doubt concerning their destination. Shrouded in darkness, this being of

the night took to the tracks and headed toward the shack that lay halfway to the grade crossing.

The Shadow had permitted the theft of the box addressed to Grantham Breck. Like those who had stolen the

WHEN The Shadow had first viewed the shack near the railroad, it had been deserted. Later, The Shadow

had observed Perry Nubin use the place for sleeping quarters. Tonight, when The Shadow arrived near the

Three men were stationed as pickets outside the shack. They had no lights; but they were covering the edges

of the tiny clearing. Their circle of coverage was scarcely more than fifty feet in circumference.

There was a light inside the shack. Otherwise, all was darkness. This was to The Shadow's liking.

Noiselessly, the master sleuth picked a space between two pickets. Not one of the three guards knew that he

The Shadow avoided the grimy windows through which the light trickled. Had he stopped by one of them, his

form would have blotted out the light from within the shack. Instead of a window, The Shadow chose a

corner where a loose board had been knocked out. There was an opening a foot in width, two feet above the

Mobsmen from Manhattan. The Shadow recognized their leader. Spike Balgo. The fellow was noted for his

toughness. Spike, himself, was prying the top from the box that had come for Grantham Breck. Boards

Spike yanked away excelsior. Then came a triumphant growl. He reached into the box and produced a Luger

pistol; then another. Out came more in quick succession. Spike opened small boxes, with drawerlike lids. He

"Say" Spike's dark, thickfeatured face came into the light "the big boy guessed it right. Lugers. Brought

Mobsmen were shuffling about. They seemed puzzled by Spike's statement. The mobleader ordered them to

stack the guns and ammunition in the corner. He tilted the big box on end. Grinning in the light of the

"Listen, mugs," announced Spike. "I said I'd give you the lay when we got out here. Some of you was with

me before; but even they don't know what it's all about. I don't talk as a rule, see? But there's times when I tell

"We're after a load of real swag. The big boy you don't need to know who he is just yet knew it was

stowed somewhere around here. He thought he'd play a good bet. He knew a foxy lawyer old Grantham

"He spilled the news to Breck. Big swag stuff taken in and hid by the Dobbin gang, some years ago. He and

Breck figured between them where the stuff would be. But there was a guy living near it a bimbo named

Spike paused and looked about the group. The mobsters were intent. Most of them had heard of the Dobbin

"Breck plays fair at first. See?" Spike was resuming. "He works with the big boss. Tries to buy property from

Twinton. Then he stalls. Tells the big boy to wait. The big shot wises that Breck's trying to pull a fast one.

Get the swag for himself. That's when the big shot sends me the tip to be on the job."

"De night you croaked old Breck," put in a leering mobster. "Dat was when I was wid you, Spike "

"Never mind who rubbed out old Breck," interrupted Spike. "He got his, the way the big shot wanted it.

"A slug from de guy's own rod," chimed in the leering mobster, heedless of Spike's admonition. "Say dat was

"Lay off!" barked Spike. "Dingbat" quieted. "I'm doing the talking. I'm coming to that part of it. Listen, mugs

I might as well tell all of you that I rubbed out old Breck. Took his gat and let him have it. Then I met the

SURPRISED looks from the mobsmen. Spike grinned. He pointed to the Luger pistols that had been

"See them gats?" quizzed Spike. "That was the kind I grabbed from Breck. A Luger. Sample he got in from

"I'm getting to it," snarled Spike. "Keep your trap shut. I know what you mugs are wondering about. You

want to know what the big shot did with that hot rod. Well, I'll tell you. He sneaked it back into the room

where old Breck kept it. When they found the gat, it was sitting right where it belonged."

Chuckles from the gang indicated admiration of the big shot's cleverness. Spike waved for silence. He had

"The rube sheriff found the Luger," he explained. "Kept it in his office, down in the town. Well, the big shot

was sitting pretty so was I for that matter because they didn't know what to do next. I'd scrammed, along

with Dingbat and a couple of you fellows who were with me. The hick sheriff didn't have nothing he could

"Then the big shot wises that things still ain't so good. He don't like the looks of it up on the hill. I'm gone

he figures he'll have to make a trip up there himself. So he does. And before he goes, he slides into the

Spike paused to look from face to face. The mobsmen were tense. Their forte was gang war; craft and

"Then the big shot" Spike paused "well, never mind mentioning him. I'll just tell you this. There was

trouble up on the hill and the guy that lived there Twinton got his, like Breck. It was just one of them

things that happened that's all. But it didn't make no trouble for the big shot.

"Why? Because when they dug the slug out of Twinton, they found it came from that same Luger. Where was

the hot rod? Back in the sheriff's office, where it belonged. Say I'll bet that yap was ready to pinch himself,

"I'm telling you more," growled the gangleader. "The reason the big shot yanked that Luger pistol into these

jobs was because old Breck had shown him the gun. The big shot knew where Breck kept it hid. When Breck

"They was both figuring on some fireworks if they had to send us guys up on the hill while Twinton was still

living there. Twinton wouldn't sell the property to Breck. That was the catch. See? Well, when Breck shows

the Luger to the big shot, he says it would be a hot idea to bring in a load of them guns so we could carry

"When Breck pulls the doublecross, the big shot twists the Luger stunt on him. That mixes things up. All the

time, the big shot is thinking, though, that maybe Breck might have sent for them guns. Things were fixed so

they'd come to him; the only trouble was maybe somebody might get a chance to look into the box first. That

"Well, Twinton's dead. So the big shot sent for us. The house is closed; the job ought to be easy. Looked like

the Lugers would be out of the picture; but just the same, the big shot had me posted to take a squint into that

baggage room just in case something might have come in for old Grantham Breck. There was a chance that

"Yeah," agreed Spike. "So we're going to use them. Load them up and use them instead of our regular gats.

We got to lay low tonight. Tomorrow night we go after the swag. There's no telling just who we're going to

"If we rub out any wise birds, the sheriff's going to find Deutsch slugs in them. If he ever manages to figure

out where the bullets came from, he'll be worse off than before. A bunch of rods shipped to Grantham Breck"

MOBSTERS mumbled in agreement. Spike strolled over to the corner. He began to load a Luger while his

crew gathered around to watch him handle the gun. Nods showed that the gorillas were familiarizing

"Take this rod," ordered Spike, handing the first Luger to Dingbat. "Toss out your old one. Come on all of

you load up and get rid of your old gats. Some of them smokewagons you're lugging would show up

worse than fingerprints. Say the big shot is going to feel great when I tell him about this grab."

A gangster went to the door and called in the guards. They, too, were supplied with Lugers. The entire mob

more than a dozen men was equipped with the new type of smallarms. An assortment of glimmering

revolvers lay in a pile upon the floor. These were the guns that the gorillas had brought with them.

"No target practice," warned Spike. "Them Deutsch rods will do their stuff when you have to use them. Better

than these hunks of old iron." He laughed as he indicated the discarded revolvers. "Pack up that junk,

Dingbat. Put the old rods in one of them bags we brought with us. We'll take them along when we go up to

"Sure. If it's clear there, we're going to stick this box back where it belongs."

"No. We'll fill it with cans out of one of them crates in the baggage room. Bring the rest of the crate along

with us. Say if the yap sheriff gets a peek into this box before it's delivered, he's going to do some more

"You and I are going further along, Dingbat. The mob can come back here. We'll head for the trestle a couple

of miles down the line. Then we'll heave those old gats out into the creek. It's plenty deep, with lots of mud

Spike turned warningly to his crew. His eyes were glaring as he put a final warning.

"No holding out on any rods," he asserted. "The old ones, I mean. We ain't carrying anything that would go as

The mobsters nodded. Assured that he had collected all the guns that might prove incriminating, Spike

beckoned to Dingbat, who had finished loading the bag. The leering gorilla put a question just as the group

"Say," he asked. "What about the big shot? Ain't you goin' to slip him one of these new gats?"

"The big shot's taking care of himself," returned Spike. "He ain't going up on the hill. We'll meet him later.

"Maybe he'll stick here after we make our getaway. He's smart enough to stay on the ground if he wants to.

Maybe he'll scram along with us. That's up to him. If he sticks, you mugs won't even know who he is. If he

"The big shot's our ace in the hole. Get that? He's the coverup man in this outfit. I know what he wants

done; I got the final orders before we came here. He knows we're here. I've been moving around while you

mugs were in this shack. Whether I've talked with the big shot or whether I'm going to talk with him well,

With this final statement, Spike Balgo motioned his crew along. Dingbat followed with the bag full of old

revolvers. Other mobsters carried the empty box. Three members of the crew remained in charge of the

AFTER the last of the departers had scrambled up the embankment, a huge blot detached itself from the side

of the shack. An unseen form glided off into the darkness. It did not follow Spike Balgo and his mob; instead,

Several minutes later, a whispered laugh sounded near a clump of trees. That soft yet sinister sound marked

the passage of The Shadow. Later, a blackened figure loomed through the window of Harry Vincent's room.

The task was completed when The Shadow left an envelope upon the table near the window. The blackened

form moved outward. The next token of The Shadow came from the clearing where the autogiro was located.

The Shadow's voice sounded as a sinister whisper as the master of darkness formed radio contact with

After this communication was ended, The Shadow laughed again. There was foreboding in that hollow tone

that died amid the clearing. The mockery carried a note of coming triumph. The Shadow had anticipated

events; he had also deducted past occurrences. Spike Balgo's conversation with his mob had merely proven

Silence. The Shadow was resting for the morrow. When Spike Balgo and his crew fared forth to the hills,

they would be scheduled to find a hidden foe of whose presence they had not dreamed. Men of evil were

NINE o'clock the next evening. The through freight had just pulled out, taking along the two cars loaded with

canned goods. Another empty had been left; this car was far up the siding, toward the switch.

Passengers had not yet arrived for the evening local. One man was stamping back and forth through the

waiting room. It was Perry Nubin, the railroad dick. He was impatient when he stopped beside the ticket

"Say" Nubin growled as he addressed Zach Hoyler, who was at his table "I want to ride out on that local."

"I know that. But I don't want to go before that fool sheriff gets here. He said he was coming to open that box

"Forey went out of town this morning," observed the agent. "Said he would come out here after he got back.

"It ought to be," agreed Nubin. "The only time you opened the door was when those shippers took the canned

"I told you why. I want to get back to Laporte. Maybe there's a message there for me "

Nubin broke off as the door of the waiting room opened. In stamped Sheriff Tim Forey. The official nodded

"All right, Zach," he said to the agent, "let's see that box. We can go in through the inside door, can't we?"

The agent nodded. He picked up a cluster of keys. He went to the inner door of the baggage room. Forey and

Nubin followed. The door unlocked, Hoyler turned on a light. Tim Forey studied the box which lay in the

"To Grantham Breck all right," he declared. "Well, it's got to be delivered to his son. Have you called the

"No," responded the station agent. "But there was a call here today. Phone's been fixed at Breck's."

"Well, there were two calls, now that I come to think of it. One from young Elbert; then one from Craven."

"If anything had come in. I took it to mean telegrams. I didn't mention the box, because you hadn't seen it."

"That settles it." The dick laughed. "He must have told the servant to call; the fellow probably was busy so

young Breck made the call himself. Then the servant called later. But say, sheriff what about this box? Are

"Yes," responded Forey. "But I thought it might be best to run it over to Breck's first."

"Well when Hoyler here called you last night, you said you'd come up today and take a look in the box.

"Then Hoyler won't see the shipment, He's the agent who received it. If I make a report, I ought to have his

statement. What's more I'm going out on the local. Won't have time to go over to Breck's. Train's pretty

Taps from the agent's wicket proved Nubin's statement. Hoyler went out to see who was there. Staring from

the baggage room, Forey saw a firm, impassive face beyond the ticket window. The sheriff was staring at The

A QUIET voice asked for a ticket to Laporte; also for time tables of the Union Valley and the B and R. While

Hoyler was busy, Foray acceded to Nubin's request. He picked up a small metal wedge and used a hammer to

drive it under the top boards of the box. The container came open with surprising ease.

Foray saw the glint of metal. An exclamation of surprise came from his lips. He thrust his hand into the box

and yanked out a tin can. It had no label. Liquid sounded within when the sheriff shook the metal cylinder.

"Canned goods!" exclaimed Nubin. "Say that's a hot one. No wonder the box was heavy."

Zach Hoyler had come back from the ticket office. The customer was still at the window, studying a time

table. Like Hoyler, he could see the tin can that the sheriff was holding. He also heard Forey's remark.

"Tin cans?" put in Hoyler, as he approached. "That's a funny one, Tim. There were crates of canned goods

"Sure," replied the agent, scratching his head. "Over from the Newton Canneries. Had their usual labels on

"Humph." The sheriff paused. "Maybe some smart Aleck might have taken the labels off some of those cans.

"I locked everything last night," remarked Hoyler. "Still, these doors aren't any too strong. I never leave

"It's just a coincidence," laughed Perry Nubin, eying the sheriff's frowning face. "Old Breck must have

bought some canned goods cheap right out of a factory. Through some official in the place. Maybe these

"On that account, they were shipped without their labels. Breck would have known what they were. Maybe

it's a brand that hasn't been named yet. The point is, a lot of canned goods don't have anything to do with

Nubin seemed satisfied with his theory. Foray, after removing most of the cans and replacing them, began to

nod his agreement. Zach Hoyler was on the point of making comment; he changed his mind when he saw that

he would probably be overruled. He went back into the ticket office when Foray started to nail up the box.

Perry Nubin came from the baggage room. He strolled out through the station and reached the platform. The

local was about due. The detective saw two more passengers in addition to the tall personage who had bought

The local clanged into the station. Boarding the rear car, Nubin looked for the passengers. He saw two of

them getting on the train. The tall stranger was not in view. Nubin supposed that he was the first aboard. As

the local pulled out, the railroad dick waved to the sheriff and the station agent. They had come out of the

Despite the quickening speed of the local, the detective bounded across the platform and hung from the

opposite steps. He swung clear, landed on the ground beside the tracks and went staggering forward until he

sprawled on the embankment. Grinning, he arose and dusted his clothes. Cautiously, he crossed the tracks,

threw a glance toward the station; then took to the lower side of the embankment.

PERRY NUBIN was positive that his deeds had not been witnessed. He did not know the tall stranger of the

ticket room had failed to board the local. Shrouded in darkness, that personage was standing by the station.

Staring keenly toward the bend, The Shadow glimpsed the vague figure of the railroad dick as Nubin scurried

TIM FOREY had come in a car driven by a deputy. He and Zach Hoyler took the box from the baggage room

and loaded it aboard. The car started toward the road that led to Breck's. Zach Hoyler came back into the

His course was toward the clearing where he had parked the autogiro. From there, The Shadow intended to

communicate with Burbank; then to move forth on a new and important mission. Darkness swallowed the

AT the Breck house, Harry Vincent was seated in the living room. The Shadow's agent was oblivious to the

music that came from the radio. He was pondering upon cryptic thoughts that had gripped him during the

The Shadow's message! It had been revealing in part; yet mysterious as well. It had given Harry inklings

concerning the truth of crime. It had included instructions which Harry intended to carry out to the letter, yet

The door bell rang. Craven answered it. Sheriff Forey strode in; he nudged toward the door. Craven went out

and reappeared helping the deputy lug in the square box. At Forey's order, Craven went upstairs and

When the heir arrived, Forey indicated the box and mentioned that it had come for Grantham Breck. He

ordered Elbert to open it. Craven produced a hatchet, Elbert set to work in nervous fashion. He acted as

though this unexpected shipment worried him. Harry watched Craven as well as Elbert. The butler was

"Canned goods!" exclaimed Elbert, when he had pried open the box. "They must have been shipped by some

"It might have been an order, sir," put in Craven. "Mr. Breck was in the habit of storing away foodstuffs."

"I believe he did, sir," recalled Craven. "Small shipments, as I recall them. Most of the goods had labels,

"He always placed the canned goods in the custody of the cook. It was her province, sir."

"Adele, sir? I believe she has retired. But she could tell you nothing, sir. It was the old cook Martha who

"I see." The sheriff appeared satisfied with the explanation. "Well I'm going back to town. Come on,

Craven began to unpack the canned products and take them into the kitchen. Elbert Breck strolled into the

living room with Harry Vincent. Lighting his pipe, the heir slouched into an easy chair. Like Harry, he

listened to the radio while Craven finished unpacking the cans and went upstairs.

TEN thirty. A musical program ended. The radio was tuned in on Station WNX. The voice of an announcer

came over the air. Steady in tone, it carried a slight emphasis on certain words.

"'If' you give 'any' tobacco this 'one' test," came the announcement, "you will learn that ripened 'leaves' alone

can 'capture' the full tobacco flavor. Talk to an old smoker. Ask 'him' his opinion. 'Put' the test to 'him'. He

will tell you that 'in' his experience, the best 'smoke' is the product of Lowden Brothers, the oldest tobacco

Elbert Breck was oblivious to the radio. But Harry Vincent, listening placidly, caught every word that had

been emphasized. To him, the announcer's speech conveyed a hidden message, told by those stressed words:

Harry already knew that The Shadow had planned to move tonight. Harry's own part had been outlined; but

this final order was needed. Harry knew that The Shadow must have communicated with Burbank; through

some contacts, the master sleuth had arranged for that announcement to go over the air from WNX.

Harry had received orders of this type in the past. He knew that The Shadow must already be operating on his

own; otherwise, he would have delivered this final message through Harry's window. Faring abroad, The

To Harry Vincent, The Shadow had entrusted the duty of preventing a move from the Breck house. Harry

was alert. Tonight, he was determined to give the aid upon which The Shadow relied.

TEN minutes after the announcement from Station WNX, Elbert Breck went upstairs to bed. Craven had

already retired; Harry Vincent was positive that the servant was on the third floor. Going to his own room,

Here, Harry began to write. He used an ordinary pen tonight not the one that carried the disappearing ink.

Carefully choosing his words, he phrased a brief account of certain things that he had noted during his stay at

There were items that Harry omitted; there were others a bit puzzling to him that he included. Harry's

report was partially his own and partially The Shadow's. In writing it, Harry utilized certain statements that

were implanted in his mind. They were suggested phrases that had come in The Shadow's message.

His task completed, Harry folded the note and sealed it in the envelope. He wrote the name of Sheriff Tim

Forey on the outside. This epistle was to be delivered to that official, by order of The Shadow. The delivery

In a sense, Harry Vincent understood what was going on. He knew that trouble was brewing on the hill. The

Shadow would take care of events up there. But behind the scheme lay a hidden hand. Someone a big shot

Craven's actions those of Elbert Breck the presence of an unnamed prowler all these belonged in

Harry's report. Yet they did not give the final verdict. They did not tell who had slain Grantham Breck or who

had killed Ezekiel Twinton. Yet Harry sensed that his report would have a value.

After events broke loose tonight, Tim Forey would have new information. Then Harry's statements would fit

into place like the odd pieces of a jigsaw. Harry's thoughts began to center on this very house.

Two men: Elbert and Craven. They were not in collusion, yet both had acted oddly. Harry knew the reason

for the double activity. One was probably suspicious of the other. This meant that if one went out, the other

The mysterious elimination of one would puzzle the other. Hence it was Harry's job impartially to put the

first chap away where the second would not find him. This would mean quick work; Harry felt sure that he

A new padlock had been placed upon the smoke house. Tim Forey had the key. That padlock, however, had

been mysteriously removed; a similar one had been put in its place by The Shadow. Harry Vincent had the

key to it left with The Shadow's message. Later, it would be Harry's duty to explain that he himself had

broken off the sheriff's lock and put on one of his own. The results of tonight's adventure would justify the

ELEVEN o'clock. Harry Vincent was tense. He felt that trouble was centering about this house. Though

action was due upon the hill, the movements hereabouts might have their effect. Harry felt that something

Listening, The Shadow's agent heard soft footsteps in the hall. He caught the creak as someone descended the

back stairs. Gripping an automatic, Harry stole from his room. He reached the stairs and moved downward.

Moving out, Harry spied a dim figure going toward the smoke house. Evidently the person was getting clear

of the grounds before taking his next direction, whatever it might be. Swiftly, Harry hastened forward. He

Springing, Harry shot fingers for the enemy's throat. The man went sprawling on the ground. His head

thudded against the dry, baked clay. Half groggy, the victim tried to voice a protest. Harry clapped hand to

Harry produced a dark bandanna and used it as a gag. He had hit the man harder than he had expected. Bonds

were unnecessary for the present. The smoke house was only a dozen yards away. Harry hoisted his prey and

made for the door. He found the padlock dangling; the hasp was open for his convenience.

Inside the smoke house, Harry closed the door behind him. He chuckled softly. This had been a quick,

efficient job. Letting his limp burden to the ground, Harry turned on a flashlight. He studied the pale face that

Leather thongs were hanging in readiness from a hook on the smokehouse beam. Harry used them to bind the

young heir. Elbert opened his eyes and blinked when his captor had finished. He tried to snarl; he struggled

Elbert was carrying a gun. Harry had felt it in his pocket. But The Shadow's agent had not removed the

weapon. Instruction had been to tie and gag his prisoner in such fashion that the man could neither escape nor

Harry clicked off the flashlight. He stole from the smoke house and listened. He heard nothing. He unlocked

the dangling padlock and fastened the hasp to the staple. When the padlock clicked shut, the job was done.

Only The Shadow or Harry could open that door; they alone had the keys. Someone could break in but that

was unlikely. No one would suspect that the living son had been stowed in the cache that had once housed his

The next step was to communicate with The Shadow. The mode of contact depended upon the time element.

There were different ways in which Harry could inform his chief of the capture; he had time to utilize the

best. That meant a trip up to the road on the side of the hill to the very spot where Harry had first

THERE had been no signs of Craven. It was possible that the butler had not heard Elbert and Harry leave.

There was a chance that he had come out while Harry was still in the smoke house; if so, Craven was

Harry headed for the hill road. For a space, he felt free. Then he gained the suspicion that someone was on his

Harry recalled the stealth of the butler; but he was reassured when he gave thought to the fellow's physical

inferiority. He was sure that Craven should he enter the scene would be easily overpowered. Elbert Breck

Harry had no fear of mobsters. If any of them used the road to reach the hill, The Shadow would be watching.

Moreover, Harry did not expect any to be coming from this direction. He reached the bushes that fringed the

There, Harry paused. After a short interval in which he felt security, The Shadow's agent used his flashlight.

He picked up three small stones and set them in a cluster. He added a fourth stone a larger one to the

This meant that he had captured Elbert Breck; two large stones would have indicated Craven. Three would

have been the sign had Harry encountered someone other than a man from the house. His message posted,

Harry extinguished the flashlight and moved back along the road to choose a new opening between the

Someone stirred close by. Harry drew his automatic. The sound came from the lower side of the road.

Instinctively, Harry edged toward the embankment. He clambered upward, in order to gain an advantage in

More sounds. Harry tried to locate them. He paused, ten yards above the road. Dried grass rustled close at

hand. Deliberately, Harry moved in that direction. Then came a figure, springing from the dark. Harry shot

HE expected Craven. Instead, he locked with a fighter of more potence. A stocky, stalwart foe was his

antagonist. Gripped by a stranglehold, Harry swung his arm in desperation. A hand caught his twist. Harry's

automatic dropped from his hand. Then he and his enemy sprawled upon the ground. Together, they rolled

toward the embankment. Headlong, they shot down to the road; all the while, the pressure on Harry's throat

A jolt. Harry lay motionless. The other man arose and frisked The Shadow's agent. Finding no weapons, he

grabbed Harry beneath the arms and brought the young man to his feet. Groggily, Harry staggered in the

The unknown assailant piloted Harry along the road; then cut through to a field. They covered some distance

in this fashion; then Harry, recuperating, realized his predicament. Swinging, he shot his hands forth for a

The victor chuckled. Then, with a remarkable display of strength, he hoisted Harry over his shoulder and

struggled forward with his burden. At times, he stopped and let Harry fall roughly on the ground; these

intervals of rest completed, he again hoisted his prisoner and continued his progress.

The course led to the railroad, a hundred yards above the station. Here the assailant waited, letting Harry lie

slumped across the rails. Then, after a brief glance toward the lighted platform of the station, he hoisted his

This was the empty freight car on the siding. The victor shoved Harry through an opened door, on the far side

of the track. The nearer door was closed; after clambering into the car, the man closed the further door also.

He turned the glimmer of a flashlight upon Harry's face. Once more, he chuckled.

Something white projected from the side pocket of Harry's coat. The man drew out the envelope addressed to

Sheriff Tim Forey. He opened it, unfolded the paper and began to read by the glow of his flashlight.

Mumbling after he had finished reading, the fellow extinguished the flashlight. Groping in the corner of the

car, he produced a small oil lantern. He lighted the wick and hung the lantern on a nail that projected from the

The lamplight revealed Harry Vincent lying senseless on the floor. It also revealed the visage of the man who

had brought The Shadow's agent here. It showed a grim smile upon the thick lips of a hardfaced

The stocky fighter who had ended Harry Vincent's prowl; the antagonist who held the young man prisoner

was Perry Nubin, the hardboiled railroad detective. It was he who had also learned the import of the

SOME minutes after Perry Nubin had dragged Harry Vincent from the road on the hillside, a tiny glimmer of

light blinked upon the deserted highway. This was close to the spot where Harry had left the telltale

markers. Probing the darkness, the intermittent glimmer picked out the posted stones.

A whispered laugh. The Shadow had learned of his agent's doings. Elbert Breck was a prisoner, stowed in the

smoke house. That much had been accomplished. The light went out. The Shadow moved along the road.

Not far beyond the spot where The Shadow had stopped, lay evidence of the encounter on the upper

embankment. Those traces of conflict could not have escaped The Shadow had he approached the place.

There, the shrouded investigator might have divined that his agent had been captured. But The Shadow did

Footsteps were clicking upon the hard dirt of the road. They were coming from the direction of the grade

crossing. The Shadow knew their meaning. They marked the approach of part of Spike Balgo's crew.

Stealthily, The Shadow drew away. Moving down the road, he merged with the upper embankment. Weaving

his way through bushes, he began a circuitous course toward the closed house where Ezekiel Twinton had

Four men paused in the roadway. One glimmered a flashlight. The voice of Spike Balgo emitted a low growl.

"All right, mugs," stated the mobleader. "This is where we move up the hill. Here's a good spot" his light

turned toward the exact place where Harry and Nubin had struggled downward "so move ahead while I'm

Mobsters obeyed. They climbed the bank by the glimmer of Spike's torch. As soon as their figures were out

of sight, Spike followed. This small crew constituted one third of his mob. Two other squads were moving

When Spike reached the top of the embankment, he made out the shapes of his mobsmen. They had moved

ahead. Spike blinked his light to show that he was following. Wisely, the mobleader kept it to the ground.

Spike spotted an object on the ground. Using the light again, he saw Harry Vincent's automatic. The

mobleader picked up the gun and discovered that it was loaded. He stood in darkness, pondering upon his

There was no telling how long the automatic had lain in this spot. Spike was sure that it must have been

dropped since the time of Grantham Breck's death. Otherwise, searchers for the lawyer's body would have

found it. But someone could have lost the weapon on the night when Ezekiel Twinton was slain. Confident

SEVERAL minutes later, squads were joining beside the little spring house that stood at the edge of the old

Pastely farm. Crouched in darkness, Spike Balgo growled final instructions to his mob.

"This is the place we're after," he declared. "I'm putting you wise to the whole lay the way the big shot gave

it to me. There's only one place where the Dobbin outfit could have stowed the swag. That was in this little

"Like as not it's under some stone slabs. We may have to use the soup to get at it. Getting into this joint

would have been a job before Twinton was rubbed out. There ain't nobody going to bother us now, though.

"Three of you mugs stick here with me. The rest of you spread. Keep close enough so you can know what's

going on. But spread out far enough so you can make trouble for any birds who might come sneaking up on

"Keep an eye on it," ordered Spike. "There might be some bums hanging out in there. But don't move into the

place. No use in disturbing nobody before we use the soup. That'll bring 'em out quick enough."

Mobsters moved away. Crowbars clicked beside the little spring house. Spike's flashlight glimmered. Tough

gorillas began to pry at the metalsheathed door. Rusted nails yielded. The prying workers grunted and

Spike Balgo was the first to enter. His flashlight glimmered about the stonewalled interior. The walls of the

house were damp and musty. Water showed upon the floor. There, Spike pointed out cracks between the

"We'll use the soup," he decided. "Get started, Kirky. We ain't got no time to be wasted."

Two mobsters used their crowbars to pry up heavy chunks of stone. Spike went outside to see that all was

well. When he returned, a whisper informed him that the explosive was planted. Spike gave the word. A fuse

was lighted; the door of the spring house slammed shut. Spike and his trio dug out for safety.

The blast was a dull one. Spike growled his approval of Kirky's method. The explosive had evidently been

confined to the slabs, for no damage showed on the walls of the spring house as Spike approached with his

Smoke spewed forth in thick volume when the door was reopened. Spike and his men choked in the fumes;

then, when the air had cleared, they entered. A pleased growl came from the leader's evil lips. Slabs had been

uplifted and twisted askew. A gaping hole showed beneath. Spike's light revealed a slab three feet below.

Crowbars clattered. They levered the stone aside. The flashlight showed the lid of an iron coffer. Groping

hands descended and gripped the handles at the sides. It was a hard tug, but the mobsmen brought the rusted

box from its hiding place. Spike coughed an order to lug it outside, on account of the remnants of the

The four men formed a little group as they took the box to the fence line. There Spike's flashlight renewed its

glimmer. It showed the box upon the ground. Mobsmen pounded at the lid. The box came open.

SPIKE snarled his gloating triumph when he viewed the contents. Bank notes of high denomination showed

in bundles. There were also odd stacks of gold and silver; these had given the box its weight. Securities were

stacked beside the currency. Spike's practiced hands pawed the swag while another mobster held the light.

"Plenty here," asserted the gangleader. "Like the big shot said there'd be. Shut the lid. We'll be moving along.

The mobleader paused abruptly. He clicked off his flashlight. He had caught a strange sound from

somewhere in the night. It was like a mocking whisper an eerie taunt that came with the rising tone of a

This time the sound came with more audible tone. It began as a ghostly, lowvoiced sneer. It rose with

shuddering mirth, reached a weird crescendo; then broke with a suddenness that left only its whispered

The mobleader rose to his feet. Drawing his Luger, he faced the blackened outline of Ezekiel Twinton's

empty house. His pals copied his example. Weapons ready, they awaited a recurrence of that sound.

As if in challenge to their preparation, a click sounded from the direction of the house. With it, darkness

ended. The glare of a searchlight flashed from beneath the roof of the back porch. Fitted to the wiring of the

porch lights, this device sent a broadening beam that rivaled the brightness of day.

It showed Spike and his blinking henchmen against the background of the spring house. Startled, the

mobleader and gorillas heard a repetition of the laugh that had sounded twice before. This time, the taunt rang

They knew that gibing laugh. Weirdly, it gave identifying mockery. Strident, the pealing mirth was delivered

in the sardonic fierceness that only one being could match. Mobsters quavered as they recognized the

Then, into the searchlight's glare stepped the figure that they feared. A cloaked form, batlike in its mammoth

outline, The Shadow moved from cover of the porch. From his fists projected automatics. His weaving figure

swept forward with total disregard for the men before him. Contemptuous of the others who were posted as

guards, The Shadow moved into the ring of killers that Spike Balgo had formed about the spring house.

Uncanny laughter still bursting from his lips, The Shadow was advancing to claim the spoils that Spike Balgo

had uncovered. Casting aside his familiar shroud of darkness, he was exhibiting a boldness that left the

Hands were petrified as eyes witnessed The Shadow's daring. Only lips moved as startled mobsters witnessed

the approach of that dreaded figure. Hoarse voices gasped the name of the foe who had turned dark into light:

LIKE his minions, Spike Balgo stood astonished. The notorious mobleader knew the reputed power of The

Shadow. He had heard that this fearless battler had terrified foemen to an unbelievable degree. But he had

also been informed that The Shadow was quick on the trigger. He had never dreamed that the amazing enemy

of crime would stride into the thick of an ambush before loosing a hail of lead.

It was the very unexpectedness of the situation that left Spike Balgo aghast. One hundred and fifty feet had

separated The Shadow from his enemies. The weird avenger had traversed a full third of that distance before

Wondering, the gangleader backed away from the iron box. His henchmen withdrew with him. Again, The

Shadow's laugh burst forth. The Shadow was enjoying this recognition of his prowess. It was an experience

which he had reserved for this particular occasion, with a reason which was soon to become apparent.

How long would The Shadow proceed unmolested? The answer rested with Spike Balgo. The gorillas were

sheep. They were awaiting his move. The gangleader did not realize it until he felt the corner of the spring

house wall behind his shoulders. At that moment, The Shadow had passed the halfway mark to the spot

Then, suddenly, Spike snarled an order. He suited it with action. He raised his gun and fired three quick shots

straight toward the advancing figure. The men with Spike copied his example. A dozen rounds delivered, the

Instead, The Shadow laughed. Unwavering, he kept coming forward. Spike's face turned ashen in the glare of

the searchlight. His eyes bulged. Was this being a ghost, through which bullets passed unhampered? As Spike

Ambushed mobsters were rising. Like Spike and the other three, they were firing at The Shadow. Yet the

laugh continued. The fierce figure moved uninterrupted. Spike Balgo caught the glint of brilliant eyes that

As mobsters opened a new volley, The Shadow turned. Disdainful of the four who stood within the light, he

aimed for spots about where flashes told that men were ambushed. His automatics thundered answers to the

Again Spike fired. So did his men. As The Shadow turned in their direction, the four scattered like rats. Spike

Balgo cleared the low roof of the spring house and fell sprawling by the opened door. His mobsmen, free of

the searchlight's glare, dropped to the ground and fired back. The Shadow now beside the box of swag

timed his strident laughter to the staccato jabs of flame that issued from his guns.

A mobster came sprawling at Spike Balgo's feet. This fellow had lingered too long. His emptied Luger fell to

earth. A flashlight bounced on Spike's foot. The mobleader, momentarily safe in his temporary shelter, picked

up the flashlight. He stood there, listening to the final barrage of the scattered mobsmen.

A savage oath came from Spike's lips. The mobleader turned on the flashlight and threw the rays against the

old wall of the spring house. Raising his Luger, he fired pointblank at the wall. Something spattered. Spike

ALL came to Spike Balgo in a flash. He and his henchmen had been tricked by the consignment to Grantham

Breck. These Lugers had not been ordered by the dead lawyer. The Shadow had divined that the mobsmen

would use such guns if they found them. It was he who had ordered the shipment of the box!

The bullets? There lay the trick. They were as harmless as pellets of wax. Spike Balgo had heard of amalgam

bullets slugs that had metallic content, but would disintegrate when discharged from the muzzle of the gun.

Such was The Shadow's game. He had come to claim the box of swag. Taunting the frenzied mobsters, he

had added to his gibes with intermittent shots that had clipped half of Balgo's band of ruffians.

Cursing, Spike hurled the Luger to the ground. Instinctively, he thrust his hand to his pocket. It encountered

the cold steel of Harry Vincent's automatic the weapon that Spike had discovered by chance. The

gangleader hesitated but an instant. Drawing Harry's gun, he raised his hand and his eyes above the level of

The Shadow was standing by the box of swag. By some uncanny ability, he seemed to divine Spike's action.

Turning, he brought an automatic toward its enemy, timing his aim without hurry. Spike Balgo, his gun still

in motion, fired two quick shots; then dropped for cover, just as The Shadow's gun replied.

One bullet sizzled past The Shadow's ear. The second, a few inches lower, found its mark. The Shadow's left

hand dropped as his right hand fired. The blackgarbed figure wavered. The Shadow was slumping toward

Spike Balgo peered from the side of the spring house. He aimed again, just as The Shadow rose. He saw the

cloaked form go weaving, wavering away from the box. Spike fired again a wide shot as The Shadow

The Shadow was lying facing toward the large house. Had he tried to swing and aim toward Spike, he would

have met disaster. Had he risen to take to flight, he would have been a target for the mobleader. Instead, he

fired from the ground. His shot was accompanied by the crash of glass and the descent of total darkness. The

Shadow, though weakened, had managed to hit the luminous bull'seye of his own searchlight.

Spike Balgo had discarded the flashlight. The gangleader fumed. No use to fire now The Shadow was

invisible. Spike dared not approach the wounded fighter. Instead, he cried out to his men. He called for lights

Responses came. Mobsmen had seen The Shadow fall. Encouraged by Spike's temporary flashlight, those

who had escaped The Shadow's shots came bounding forward to the spring house. They brought forth

"Get after him!" snarled the mobleader. "I got a rod that can clip him. I'll be behind you. If he puts up a fight,

Mobsters hesitated; then plunged forward en masse. Their flashlights showed the spot where The Shadow had

stumbled. But the interval had been too long. Well had The Shadow counted on their action the assembling

The ground was blank where The Shadow had been. The wounded fighter had arisen; he had headed off

beyond the empty house. Precious seconds had aided him in this forced departure. The Shadow had left the

"Scrammed, eh?" jeered Spike, as he approached the box. "Well let him go. We showed him up. A couple

of you mugs hoist this box. The rest of you see about those fellows that he plugged.

"Hang on to them rods. The bullets ain't no good, but people won't know that where we're going. Come along

if any of the mob is done for, leave 'em lay. Bring along the others. That hick sheriff's liable to be up here

now, after all the racket. But that won't matter. We'll be gone when he gets here. Gone like The Shadow."

THERE was contempt in Spike's final words. The gangleader was scoffing because he had offset The

Shadow's ruse. He believed that he had conquered the feared enemy. He was confident that The Shadow

That was because Spike judged all fighters by his own caliber. Spike was yellow when it came to a

showdown. He was not keen enough to analyze the keen workings of The Shadow's brain. He thought that the

There were two reasons why The Shadow had resorted to his unusual strategy of flight that is, two reasons

other than the fact that he was wounded and therefore at an unanticipated disadvantage. Yet Spike did not

To The Shadow, the presence of one live gun among the mob was an indication that Spike might have

changed his mind about the disposal of the old rods. The Shadow had gained no knowledge of Spike's chance

discovery of Harry Vincent's automatic. Wounded, The Shadow had quickly seen the possibility that several

men might have their old guns in reserve. That was one reason why he had blotted out the searchlight and

The other reason was one which would have jolted Spike Balgo had the mobleader considered it. The

Shadow knew more than Spike suspected. He had guessed what was due to follow the gaining of the swag.

The game of crime had not yet been completed. Crooks had further and important work to do. One

wound from a chance bullet had never eliminated The Shadow in the past. His plans were changed; but not

Spike Balgo and his depleted crew had trudged away with the box of swag when a soft laugh whispered from

beside the old, empty house. There was a trace of anguish in the softened tone; yet confidence was the

Wavering slightly beneath the enshrouded blackness, The Shadow arose from his resting place. Slowly, his

THE Union Limited had pulled out of the Chanburg station while Spike Balgo and his mobsmen were

heading from the hill. The station platform was deserted when the mobleader brought his crew to a stop in the

driveway where only Zach Hoyler's flivver was parked. The box settled in the gravel as Spike growled an

"There's only one guy around," asserted the mobleader. "That's the station agent. We want him out here. See?

"Two of you mugs go in and cover him," responded Spike. "Bring him out around the platform. We'll hold

"What of it? How'll he know they've got dummy slugs in 'em? Say he'll crawl out here like a little lamb. If

you had real bullets it wouldn't make no difference, anyway. Sock him if he puts up a fight. Shooting is out.

Zach Hoyler was sitting at his telegraph key when he heard a sound from the wicket. He looked up to see two

mobsters covering him. One was at the ticket window the other at the opened door from the waiting room.

"Mitts up, bum," ordered Dingbat, who was at the door. "Climb up from dat soft seat an' come along wid us."

The station agent obeyed. He chewed his lips in nervous fashion as he observed the hard faces of the

mobsters. Dingbat poked a Luger muzzle into the middle of Zach's back. He marched the wearyfaced agent

"Say, listen, you" the gangleader chuckled contemptuously as he studied Hoyler's pale face "we're going

to the lower end of the platform. We'll all be out of sight except you when that Dairy Express comes in.

"But remember I'll be there with this rod; and these other boys ain't no slouches. If you try any phony stuff,

we'll cut loose and the first guy to get lead poisoning will be you. After that the train crew. Savvy?"

"The first thing you do," proceeded Spike, "is to call for the conductor. Bring him up to the engine cab like

there was something important you have to tell him and the engineer. Special orders any kind of hooey

Spike paused. He leered. His henchmen muttered imprecations. Hoyler blinked as he heard the threats. Spike

"Well, if you act funny, you won't be selling no more tickets through that window of yours. What's more,

there won't be none of that train crew working for this road no longer. But if you do like I say, nobody's going

to get hurt. You'll be a hero. You'll get a medal, maybe, for saving lives, after you spill your story."

Spike started Hoyler toward the end of the platform. The others kept in the offing. None of the figures

appeared in the light. It was not until they reached the lower end that Spike headed the station agent toward

his post. Even then he stopped the man before they came into the end light of the platform.

THE Dairy Express was whistling for the grade crossing. Spike growled a final injunction to Hoyler.

"Climb on the platform just as she pulls in," ordered Spike. "And remember, I can shoot the petals off a daisy

Headlight gleamed on rails. Zach Hoyler stepped warily on to the platform as the big locomotive of the milk

train came grinding toward the end of the station. As the Mogul panted to a halt, the station agent moved

toward the engine cab. Looking along the platform, he beckoned to the conductor. The man came hurrying

Engineer and fireman were leaning from the cab when the conductor arrived. They wondered what orders had

come into Hoyler's ticket office. Something important seemed to be brewing. It was. As the train crew

gathered, figures came clambering on to the platform. Mobsters flourished Lugers, covering each man, while

"Out of the cab, bums" engineer and fireman sullenly obeyed Spike's order "and keep your mitts up, all of

Dingbat obeyed. His face formed a grin as he discovered three revolvers. He handed these to members of the

mob, who pocketed their Lugers. Three of Balgo's six now had loaded guns. Spike grinned.

"Guess you were figuring on trouble along this run," he snarled. "Well you got it, but you weren't ready for

"Say, Spike," put in Dingbat, "maybe dere's a rod in dis guy's desk" he indicated Hoyler "because I didn't

"We got enough," put in Spike. "Come on, Kirky, cut loose the coupling on this loco. We're going to take a

The mobsters obeyed. Dingbat and "Beef" came from the cab. The latter hurried to aid Kirky with the

coupling, while the rest of the mob kept the train crew covered with their own guns. The Mogul unhooked,

Kirky and the other mobster returned. Spike Balgo looked about; then gazed approvingly toward the panting

"Back 'em along the platform toward the station," he ordered. Mobsters obeyed, keeping the train crew in a

cluster. "That's it" Balgo had turned "we're all set. Come on, you mugs, back up here with me."

Spike was standing alone, behind the others. He reached out to grasp a handle beside the cab. Something

made him look upward. The gangleader stood openmouthed as he stared into the muzzle of a glimmering

Spike let his automatic clatter to the platform. Mobsters turned at the sound. They were too late. Another

revolver had appeared beside the first. The gang was covered. A growled voice hurled its warning:

THE three armed mobsters obeyed. One man came down from the cab, gun moving back and forth while the

second covered steadily. The other fellow followed. The members of the train crew were on the job.

Dingbat, Kirky and the third unarmed mobster put up their hands. They had only useless Lugers. They did

not have time to draw them. The members of the train crew looked toward their rescuers. So did Zach Hoyler.

It was the station agent who emitted the gasp of surprise as he recognized the rescuers.

One of the two men was Perry Nubin, the railroad dick. His companion was Harry Vincent. The pair had

come through from the other side of the track. Ready with revolvers, they had turned the tables on men of

"LINE up," ordered Nubin, with a grim laugh. "Keep them covered, you fellows. We've got five guns now

Sullenly, Spike and his crew lined along the edge of the platform. Perry Nubin chuckled. This was the kind of

triumph that he liked. He shot a glance toward Zach Hoyler and laughed at the stupefied look upon the agent's

face. Then, as he again glared toward Spike and the mobsmen, Nubin indulged in another bit of glory.

"Bagged you, did they, Hoyler?" he chuckled, to the agent. "Well, if this boy Vincent hadn't been groggy,

we'd have popped in sooner. I had two guns on me, but I didn't like chancing it alone. We were over in that

empty freight car, Vincent and I. He wasn't capable of helping until just before the train came in.

"Then I slipped him one of my guns. The two of us came through the cab. Just a little surprise for these

hyenas that were going to swipe one of the company's locomotives. That's right keep your dukes up. When

Nubin turned his head. So did Harry and the train crew. They saw Zach Hoyler, glaring with eyes that meant

business. The station agent had pulled two fortyfives from his hips. He was using the weapons to cover the

The placid station agent had become a man of fury. He looked more dangerous than Spike Balgo and all the

mobsmen. Train men faltered; their revolvers clattered. Helpless by this sudden treachery, Perry Nubin and

"O.K., mugs," barked Spike Balgo, as his henchmen hesitated. "Grab those gats. He's the big shot."

WHEN the gangsters gained the guns, Zach Hoyler smiled. With Nubin's two revolvers added to the

collection, only one mobster Dingbat was unequipped. Hoyler handed one of his smokewagons to the

"Them Lugers was duds, Zach," growled Spike. "That's why some of the mob is missing. We'd better take it

"Don't worry about that sap, Tim Forey," interrupted the big shot. "Maybe he heard the shooting, like I did.

The big shot made an impatient gesture. He climbed into the cab. He glared at the prisoners; then gave a brisk

"I'm starting this load of iron," he informed. "We're pulling out in a hurry with the swag. Get ready,

"Rub them all out!" snarled Hoyler, indicating Harry, the detective and the train crew. "Do you think I want

Tim Forey to know I was the brains of our outfit? He'll think I got mine, too. Go to it. Rub them out."

Spike Balgo grinned. His mobsters were steady six men, holding five covered. The gorillas recognized that

Zach Hoyler was the boss; but they awaited Spike's order. The mobleader turned to his crew.

Spike got no further. A startling sound had come to his ears. It was an interruption from up ahead, just

beyond the platform, yet off from the glare of the locomotive's headlight. As clearly as they had heard it on

INSTINCTIVELY, Spike turned. Others followed his example. They aimed for the source of that strident

taunt. It was not the mockery itself that told them where to aim. The Shadow delivered a visible sign of his

Spike Balgo fired, snarling, as a mobster fell. His shot sped wide of that spurting flame in the darkness. A

second gorilla sprawled. Spike aimed again. Then a winging bullet clipped the mobleader. Spike Balgo

With single automatic, The Shadow had dispatched his shots straight into the group of mobsmen. His laugh

had swung them from their prisoners; his bullets were riddling the massed thugs without mercy.

While the falling mobsters spattered hasty, hopeless shots toward their unseen foe, Harry Vincent led the

flank attack. The Shadow's withering shots had sent revolvers clattering. Harry grabbed the first gun that he

found. One second later, Perry Nubin had dived for a revolver. The Shadow's volley ended as the train crew

Just as the volley ended, the wheels of the big locomotive revolved. Snorting, the big Mogul responded to a

hand that had opened the throttle. Released from the restraining train, starting from the top of a slight grade,

Wounded mobsters, half rising, were grappling with the men who had attacked them. They were trying to

regain their guns. A hand caught Perry Nubin's weapon. Harry Vincent swung his revolver to settle the

fighting crook. Then he swung to see the back of the tender rolling from the platform.

"Zach Hoyler!" roared Nubin, as the train crew came free of the silenced gorillas. "He's the big shot! Making

It was too late. The big shot had made his break. In the far cab, protected by boiler and tender, he was safe

from bullets. He was escaping in the locomotive, carrying the box of swag. Furious, futile cries came from

the balked men who would have pursued him. They could not see what was happening in the darkness up

A figure was sweeping along the embankment. The Shadow had foreseen Zach Hoyler's move. His fusillade

ended, he had sprung for the right of way, out beyond the platform. He was beside the tracks, sweeping

The big locomotive hit the bend. Its speed was sweeping as Zach Hoyler arose quickly from the seat in the

cab. The big shot's face was leering as his eyes turned toward the box that the crooks had loaded aboard. The

big shot pulled the coffer toward him. He was taking no chances of losing it. Hoyler had pocketed his

revolver. He was raising his hands from the iron box when he spied an unexpected form.

Swinging in from the swiftpassing darkness was The Shadow. Stern eyes glinted above the muzzle of an

automatic. The Shadow held the weapon in his right hand. His left arm was limp. But Zach Hoyler did not

THE big shot deserved death. A murderer, he had used killers to aid him in his quest. Amid the madness of

that jolting, swerving cab, the cowering crook saw but one chance for life. He faltered, quavering; then, with

An attack upon The Shadow. A suicidal attempt under almost any circumstances. But luck, for the moment,

was with Zach Hoyler. He flung himself forward just as the locomotive whizzed around a bend. The steel

The Shadow's limp left hand was clutching a bar beside the fireman's cab. Gloved fingers yielded to the

strain. As the right forefinger sought to deliver its shot, The Shadow's form went plunging toward the tender.

The automatic barked. Its hot bullet singed Zach Hoyler's ear. Then the big shot landed on his crippled foe.

The Shadow was forced to drop the automatic. Only the clutch of his right hand saved him from destruction.

Otherwise, he would have hurtled to the road bed. As Hoyler fell upon him, The Shadow grasped the crook's

Hoyler snapped backward, dragging The Shadow with him. The unmasked station agent was wiry; but his

fingers could not loose that grip. Hoyler sprawled into the cab, The Shadow with him. Then, in desperation,

the crook swung toward the steps. Catching The Shadow beneath the arms, he tried to hurl the cloaked fighter

Two figures wavered back between cab and tender. One instant both seemed on the brink of destruction; a

jolt of the Mogul hurled them into the cab; another jounce brought them out again. Freakishly, they fought

this furious battle. Hoyler was frenzied; The Shadow, wounded, relied wholly upon that clutch that he would

The big shot's eyes were bulging. He saw nothing not even the burning gaze before him. He twisted; his

body swung wide. It overbalanced at the steps. Wavering, the choking crook toppled backward into space.

Until that instant, Hoyler had clutched The Shadow with the wild strength of a drowning man. But in the

instant that he was swinging clear, a sudden pressure on his windpipe made him shoot his bands upward for

a last clutch at those throttling fingers. Then the weight of Hoyler's body did what his hands had failed to do.

As Hoyler hurtled backward, The Shadow pitched forward. The cloaked right arm swung with splitsecond

speed. The gloved hand clutched a bar; The Shadow's figure poised. Keen eyes, staring downward, saw Zach

While The Shadow clung hopelessly upon the edge of similar fate, the pounding locomotive hit the solid

roadbed. One side of the big engine seemed to leap in the air as the monster took a curve at terrific speed.

With that jolt, The Shadow's body twisted helplessly. Fingers lost their grip. The blackclad form went

sprawling back into the tender. Where a curve to the left would have meant The Shadow's doom, this curve

Rising as the Mogul thundered on the straightaway, The Shadow pitched forward to the cab. His fingers

gripped the throttle. The speed of the locomotive slackened. When the pounding wheels came to a stop, the

It was then that a whispered laugh came hollow in the cab. Wounded wearied the master fighter had won

"LET'S get it all straight," growled Sheriff Tim Forey as he stood in the center of Elbert Breck's living room.

"There was trouble on the hill I've just come from there. I figured those crooks were after the Dobbin swag

Four men were listening. Harry Vincent and Perry Nubin were seated side by side. Elbert Breck, relieved of

bonds and gag, was resting wearily in an easy chair. Craven was standing as solemn as a crow.

"I'll give you my story, sheriff," volunteered Perry Nubin. "I had a reason to be working on this line the

Union Valley. They thought things were getting lax. They wanted a man to tighten them. So I was sent out to

"I spotted something phony. That shack by the right of way. Fellows around there looked like mobsters.

When old Grantham Breck was bumped, I figured they'd done it. So I began to look around for clues. I came

around this house; I went up on the hill. I figured maybe there was some hidden big shot in it.

"I never suspected Zach Hoyler. When Ezekiel Twinton was murdered, I was there on the hill. I saw the

struggle; I heard the shot. I tried to follow the killer but I lost him. I had a hunch it might have been

"There were thugs back at that shack tonight. I came over here to see if there was going to be any contact. I

spotted someone going to the hill. It was Vincent here. I followed him and grabbed him. I'd sort of suspected

he was in it; and I thought I had the right man until I found that note that he was carrying to give you. Then I

"You told me to watch things here, sheriff," he declared, "and I did. Elbert Breck was out the night that

Ezekiel Twinton was killed. I went out to look for him. I went up to the hill. I saw a struggle and saw the

"Somehow, I felt that Elbert was innocent" Harry paused; he was shaping his story to suit events "and I

feared that I might be suspected if I said I had been up by Twinton's house. I decided to watch things here. I

"I saw some suspicious characters near the station last night. I remembered your talk about the Dobbin gang

and the possibility of buried swag. I had a hunch they were after it; and it seemed logical that they would ride

"Why did you write a note?" inquired Forey, gruffly. "Why didn't you come in to see me?"

"On account of Elbert," explained Harry. "I wanted to put him out of the game. So you would know he was

innocent. I thought I might have to send word to you, so I prepared the note in advance."

"I switched the padlocks on the smoke house. Tonight, Elbert sneaked out. I grabbed him and locked him in

there. Then I had a hunch that I ought to go up toward the hill, to see if a gang was prowling there. I got as far

as the road; then someone landed on me. When I woke up, I was lying in the freight car. Nubin was trying to

get me into shape. He had read my note. He thought my hunch was right. He needed me to aid him."

"All right, Vincent," decided the sheriff. "Things worked out right, so I've got to give you credit. What about

"I was in Laporte, sheriff," blurted Elbert, "before my father died. I lied to you about being in New York.

That put me in a bad spot to begin with. I had a wild theory. I thought that maybe Ezekiel Twinton had killed

"I ran into Twinton that night and fought with him. Only so I could shake him off that was all. Then came

the shot, close by. At first, I thought Twinton had fired it himself. I headed the wrong way when I ran. I laid

"I thought that Twinton had tried to shoot me; afterward, I decided that maybe someone else had fired the

shot. Then I remembered something. The shot came just as Twinton bowled me over. I believe now that Zach

Hoyler tried to murder me instead of Ezekiel Twinton. He might have believed that I knew about the money

"You are right, Mr. Breck," declared Craven, speaking before Tim Forey had a chance. "I knew that your

father had suspicious visitors, sir. I had never glimpsed them, but I believed that they were concerned with

"Zach Hoyler," nodded the detective, turning to the sheriff. "It fits. He was the bird who put back the gun

"I became apprehensive," resumed Craven. "First, I wanted to protect my old master's name. After that, I

feared for young Mr. Breck. I prowled a bit myself on his account. I was out that night that Mr. Twinton was

slain; but I did not venture on the hill. I looked about a bit for young Mr. Breck; then I spied a cord from his

TIM FOREY paced back and forth. The sheriff was piecing all that he had heard. He finally paused to

"Zach Hoyler fooled us," asserted Forey. "He must have been a member of Dobbin's outfit one of the bunch

that went through here. He came to this town and landed a railroad job. He was always trying to get located in

the Chanburg station. They finally put him there after two agents went sour on the job.

"But there was somebody else in all this. I don't know who he was; but he ought to get plenty of credit. He

mopped up that mob on the hill. Got the outfit again down there by the station. Who is he? What's become of

The sheriff paused. Harry Vincent was solemn. He was anxious to know what had happened to The Shadow.

In the silence that followed, there was a ring of the telephone. Forey answered it. His eyes were gleaming

"Got the swag!" exclaimed the sheriff. "Down by the B and R junction! Engineers on the Limited saw the

engine of the milk train stalled there. They're backing the locomotive here to Chanburg, swag and all."

"Which means," decided Nubin, "that somebody got Zach Hoyler. He'd never have beat it without the swag;

Harry Vincent smiled in satisfaction. All had been cleared. Missing wealth would be returned. Crooks had

gained the end that they deserved. The Shadow's agent knew his chief was safe. Moreover, he had a sudden

THE guess was correct. On the fast train, speeding into New York, a passenger was lying in the lower berth

of a compartment. His face a trifle pale was that of Lamont Cranston. This passenger had presumably

boarded the train at Torrington, the last stop of the Limited before the Union Valley junction. But he had not

encountered the conductor until after the train had pulled away from the junction.

Resting on his right side, The Shadow smiled. He was thinking of what was going on in Chanburg; of the

explanations that would be made; of the one mystery that Sheriff Tim Forey would not clear. Later, The

Shadow would return to Chanburg, to reclaim his autogiro and lift it from the clearing at night.

Then came thoughts of Zach Hoyler, the hidden crook who had managed crime. The Shadow had

recollections of one night outside the station; to his throbbing brain came the ticks of the telegraph key.

Zach Hoyler was sending telegrams. Pauses between the wires three pauses that The Shadow could

remember. Zach Hoyler had been given only three telegrams. One from Harry Vincent, one from Perry

Nubin, one from Elbert Breck. Three telegrams, yet three pauses. Why? Because The Shadow had heard four

The fourth had been Zach Hoyler's own. A wire to a blind in New York. Signed with a fictitious name. The

summons to the gang. The Shadow remembered more. A note on Hoyler's table, left there after the arrival of

the box of Lugers. The Shadow had read it. So had Spike Balgo. The mobleader had taken the note with him.

It had ordered him to steal the box and return it; to keep the Lugers if they proved to be its contents.

Throbbing thoughts, the aftermath of a titanic struggle. The fight on the hill, the battle at the station, the grim

conflict in the cab of the thundering locomotive. A soft laugh whispered from The Shadow's lips. It died

The Limited plunged onward. Its whistle blared through the silent countryside. Its shrill blasts were unheard