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

CHAPTER I. DEATH'S WHIRL............................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. FIGURES FROM GLOOM .............................................................................................4

CHAPTER III. CRIME'S EVIDENCE ....................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. THE CEYLON RUBY .................................................................................................11

CHAPTER V. THE CHINESE AUCTION ...........................................................................................15

CHAPTER VI. LOO LOOK SPEAKS ..................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VII. QUEST OF THE DRAGON .......................................................................................21

CHAPTER VIII. MESSAGES AT MIDNIGHT ...................................................................................25

CHAPTER IX. THE HIDDEN HAND.................................................................................................30

CHAPTER X. WEST MEETS EAST...................................................................................................33

CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW'S CHOICE .........................................................................................37

CHAPTER XII. THE CHOSEN TRAIL...............................................................................................40

CHAPTER XIII. THE POWER OF MIND ...........................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIV. DOUBLED TRAILS.................................................................................................46

CHAPTER XV. PAYMENT DEFERRED...........................................................................................49

CHAPTER XVI. WITHOUT THE SHADOW.....................................................................................53

CHAPTER XVII. THE PERFECT THRUST.......................................................................................56

CHAPTER XVIII. BLACK DEATH....................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XIX. GONG OF DOOM....................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XX. THE SEVENTH DRAGON.......................................................................................66

CHAPTER XXI. THE JEWEL ROOM .................................................................................................70

CHAPTER XXII. CRIME'S FINAL RIDDLE ......................................................................................73

THE lights on the electric sign had begun their strange whirl again. Paul Brent stood watching them from the

window of his hotel room. Over him came the same fascinating spell that he remembered from previous

Tonight, the lights did not cease their spin. Gripped by their curious magic, Paul felt a surge of recollections

It stood atop a low building on the other side of Broadway. It had a flapping, birdlike figure in the center,

with three circles around it. Red, green, finally an outer circle of yellow lights, which matched the color of

Viewed from Broadway, the sign caught the eye, but did not captivate it. The only times that it produced a

mental daze were when Paul stared at the sign from his window. Probably that was because he was looking

If the matter of angles explained it, Paul was the one person in New York who could feel the bewildering

effect of those lights. His window was directly opposite the sign, and on an exact level with its center.

Even that simple question could not be precisely answered. Paul Brent had never heard of the Hotel

Grayland, until receiving the circular with the offer of special rates. The letter had been waiting for him in

Deciding to try the Grayland, he had found a room already reserved for him. This room. So Paul had taken it.

Simple enough, but the rates, he had learned today, were higher than the circular said.

Who had sent that fake advertisement? Who had reserved the room in Paul's name? Who the final question

jarred Paul, despite his increasing daze was responsible for those devilish lights, with their crazy flipflops

The questions seemed to jumble, like the circles. Of a sudden, the lights went blank. So did Paul's thoughts.

He saw the blackened square of the extinguished sign, but the roar of Broadway traffic was gone. Paul was in

He seemed to hear a voice, like a distant call, yet cold and level in its pitch:

Paul's squarish face was frozen. Its tan gave it the effect of a cast molded from bronze. His eyes were fixed in

an unseeing stare. His lips did not move, yet he felt himself speak a word in answer:

This time, Paul's lips opened. Without knowing where the thought came from, he replied spontaneously:

"I am Shiwan Khan" the icy tone seemed closer, yet its pitch had not changed "and you are ready to obey.

SLOWLY, Paul turned from the window. He sat at a writing desk that was strewn with papers. From them, he

brought a cardboard folder, opened it and mechanically thumbed the papers that he found inside.

They were orders for commercial airplanes, to be delivered to South America. They were made out to Globe

Aircraft; the firm which Paul represented as a technical expert. Paul had gone to South America to arrange

He had the needed details on another sheet of paper. He could have copied them directly to the orders. But

the paper that Paul picked up from the desk was blank. His eyes, though, saw writing on it, in a hand other

First, Paul added amendments to the orders. He increased the number of certain planes, eliminating others of

a definitely commercial type. To the specifications for those that he increased, Paul called for a special wing

design, used in military aircraft. With that, he wrote the comment: "Required for flights across the Andes

Next, he changed the motor type from KJ4 to WI7, code numbers used by Globe Aircraft. The orders for WI7

would please them at the factory, for they already had a few hundred of those newtype motors in stock. It

would also puzzle them, for Globe had built those new motors for delivery to the United States government.

On the South American orders, Paul wrote: "For immediate delivery." Finally, he produced a government

order that he had picked up while in Washington. It called for delivery of three hundred WI7 motors within

two months, specifying that following such delivery, future motors of that type must be built for the

A conniving chuckle came from Paul's lips. It was a forced tone, a gloat that seemed rather to belong to the

The government contract showed a figure "2" to specify the number of months. Paul inserted a figure "1" in

front of it, producing "12" as the total of months. With a year to go, the Globe factory could easily ship the

No longer puzzled, they would be doubly pleased at this chance to make a big commercial sale ahead of the

government's deadline. This would win Paul real approval from the factory. Until Washington heard about it.

Thought of an unpleasant future did not deter Paul from his next action. Still following the controlling

thoughts of Shiwan Khan, Paul folded the order sheets into a large envelope that was already stamped and

addressed to Globe Aircraft. Putting on his hat and coat, he walked stolidly from the hotel room.

The elevator operator noted Paul's trancelike expression, while he was riding down to the lobby. So did the

bell captain, when Paul dropped the envelope in the mailbox. But neither observer made comment, for the

tanfaced man seemed to know what he was about. They saw Paul Brent walk out through the side door.

On the sidewalk, Paul waited for a taxicab. That was the first real evidence that his brain probably wasn't

right. No cabs ever stopped on the obscure side street; they always pulled up to the front door.

Paul had not waited a dozen seconds, before a cab wheeled from a parking place and stopped for him. The

young man stepped into the cab as if it belonged to him; which, in a sense, it did.

That cab, like Paul Brent, was under the control of Shiwan Khan, the unseen master of many destinies.

The proof was the muffled driver. Despite his upturned coat collar, the man's features were momentarily

visible. They were yellow, with sharp black eyes that kept watching Paul in the rearview mirror. Gleaming

teeth showed the driver's grin; straight black hair matched the fellow's scrutinizing eyes.

The man at the wheel was a Mongol. He belonged among the guerrilla bands of western China. Any

passenger other than Paul Brent would have wondered what strange quirk had made the man a cab driver. But

Paul was scarcely conscious of time, space, or surroundings. The will of Shiwan Khan controlled his thoughts

WHEN the cab stopped in back of a small apartment house, Paul stepped to the curb mechanically. Across

Following a hallway, he turned when he came to a stairway and ascended to the third floor. Passing one door,

he stopped, laid his hand upon the knob of the next. It was the last door in the hall.

Entering the room by a little passage, Paul was immediately attracted by the glow of a single lamp that stood,

unshaded, on a table. It had a greenish tinge, that light, and though it possessed brightness, it didn't hurt Paul's

There was a radio cabinet in the corner and Paul heard the music that was coming from it, for the tune

seemed to catch the same vibration as his thoughts. Standing motionless, Paul observed something that

glittered on the table. His eyes were blurred by the greenish light, so he groped for the object and gripped it.

The music ended. There was the voice of an announcer, but it wasn't what Paul expected to hear. There was

something else what it was to be, he had no idea; but another voice the singular tone of Shiwan Khan

told him to wait and listen. It came suddenly, from the radio: the stroke of a Chinese gong.

The very air seemed to catch that vibration. It quivered about Paul's ears, made him shudder with a hard

shake of his head. The spell of Shiwan Khan seemed to crash apart, like the breaking of a wave. The circling

lights, the ethereal voice, Paul's own recent deeds, were the slipping recollections of a hideous, tangled

His hand clenching tight, Paul felt weight, and coldness. He looked at the object that he held. It was a .32

revolver. His eyes, no longer blurred, gazed beyond the gun, to a thing that lay on the floor beside the table

It was the body of a man, clad in pajamas, lying face down. Blotched in the very center of the man's back was

a mass of crimson that dyed the striped pajama jacket. He was dead, that victim, a bullet in his spine.

A bullet from the very gun that was gripped in the tightclenched hand of Paul Brent!

Paul Brent spoke the words calmly, with a trace of satisfaction. Then, the memory of his own voice alarmed

It was almost a query, that higher pitch. Paul uttered it desperately, as if to fight off a conviction that must

have been inspired from someone else. Panic caught him; he wanted to dash from the place, raving the news

Paul couldn't remember coming here; he'd never seen the place before. The gun wasn't his; he had no idea

Doubt was back again; not the sort, however, that made Paul Brent want to scream a guilt that might not be

his. This was a doubt induced by cold consideration, grim enough to prove disconcerting.

Actually, Paul could not account for the past half hour, except as a period of mental haze. He remembered

starting to his hotel room, but wasn't sure that he had really been there. The spinning lights visible from his

It could be that he had come directly here; that he had murdered the man who lay on the floor!

Such a deed, committed in a frenzy, could numb the senses and produce a haze. Confessed killers often

stated, honestly enough, that they had no recollection of anything that happened. Paul's own words: "I killed

If only he could snatch some tangible detail from that recent whirl of thoughts!

There was a name somewhere in the medley. A name about which everything revolved. A name that Paul

would know instantly, if he heard it; but every effort to recall it made it more elusive. The name that Paul

With an effort, Paul jolted himself back to the present. He faced the fact that he had a revolver in his hand;

that a dead man lay on the floor. The gun could tell him nothing, but the victim could, despite death's

intervention. One way for Paul to test his own sanity was to learn if he knew the dead man by sight.

Probably he didn't. That settled, he would feel better. People didn't go about killing strangers merely for the

fun of it. Stepping boldly forward, Paul knelt beside the body. Still gripping the gun, he used his free hand to

The sight jarred him. Even in death, he recognized those drawn, dissipated features, tightlipped and

bulgeeyed. The dead man was Bob Ryndon, stunt flier and adventurer, whose path had crossed Paul's a few

They had argued it out heavily, nearly a year ago, when Ryndon had wanted Paul to O.K. some old crates that

were being shipped to China. It wasn't a Globe job; the planes were some that Ryndon had bought on his

own. But the purchaser would not accept them unless the specifications were approved by a person of

Paul had refused to lend his name to it, on the ground that Globe wouldn't like it. Ryndon hadn't believed

him. He had called Paul a fool who put integrity ahead of easy money. Nobody would ever know the

difference, Ryndon had said, since a lot of incompetent Chinese aviators were going to crack up whatever

ships they received. Paul had coolly told Ryndon to ask someone else to do his dirty work.

No one, unless Ryndon had talked about it, which he would not have found good policy. Unless he had found

some way to twist the facts against Paul. Nevertheless, it wasn't pleasant for Paul to find that this dead man

SUDDENLY sure that he had not killed Bob Ryndon, Paul decided upon immediate departure. He was

somewhere in New York; that was certain. If he could find his way to the street, he could go back to his hotel

and forget Bob Ryndon. The stunt flier knew plenty of other people; the police would probably find the real

Almost to the door, Paul realized that he still held the gun. He was wondering what he ought to do about it.

An incriminating thing to have, yet something he would need if he met the real killer just outside of here.

To late to get out of sight from the passage, Paul dropped back, aiming the revolver. He was ready to give

challenge, when he found that words were unneeded. The person who entered wasn't formidable. Quite the

The arrival was a girl. Stepping in from the passage, she faced Paul, a faraway stare in her eyes. That distant

expression suited her costume. The girl was clad in Chinese dress that made her a symphony in silk.

Her colorful costume had the appearance of pajamas, topped by a loose, widesleeved robe of an exquisite

pattern, combining poppy leaves and peacocks. She was one of those rare creatures who might have delighted

Her oval face was beautiful: dark eyes with languorous lashes, ruddy lips that were not too bright. Her nose

was short, but without the wideness that sometimes marred the symmetry of Chinese features.

Despite her costume, Paul would have classed the girl as an American, rather than Chinese, if it had not been

for the olive tinge of her complexion. Since she showed neither fear nor antagonism, Paul lowered the gun

There was a rippling sound to the name, even with that slow pronunciation. Paul bowed, but did not introduce

She looked toward a large boxseat couch at the front wall, then toward the radio across the room. Her eyes

passed the rear window and settled on the corner where Ryndon's body lay beneath the greenish light.

Sight of the dead man produced no surprise. Lana Luan acted as though she expected to see Ryndon lying

Almost on the point of nodding, Paul restrained himself. Lifting one hand slightly, Lana Luan carried a broad

"Let me have the gun," she suggested. "I shall dispose of it. I think it would be wise for you to leave."

There was no malice in the eyes that met Paul's. Their depths revealed a simple sincerity. Perhaps Lana Luan

had wanted Ryndon's death, though Paul was convinced that she had not murdered the man. It might be that

she was protecting someone else. Whatever the case, it offered an end to Paul's own predicament.

He placed the revolver in the folds of silk, gingerly keeping his hand in readiness, should Lana Luan make a

grab for it. His trust was complete when he saw the girl stand motionless, merely waiting for him to leave.

With a quick stride, Paul stepped toward the passage. He was through it, closing the door, before the girl

could possibly have disentangled the gun, to aim it. His parting glimpse restored Paul's momentary loss of

Not until Paul had time to reach the street did the girl stir from her position. Then turning her head

mechanically toward the door, she watched it, while her hand folded in the corners of a silken square. The

gun was not lying in a portion of her sleeve. It was in the center of a handkerchief that matched her costume

THE lid of the boxcouch lifted. From the interior came an ugly Mongol face, quite like that of the taxi

driver who had brought Paul to this apartment house. The leering Mongol was the actual murderer of Bob

Lifting the handkerchief by its corners, she gave it to the Mongol, who carefully wrapped the folds more

tightly. He paid no further attention to the girl, as she stepped toward the doorway to make her own

departure. Even before the door had closed, the Mongol was engaged in other business.

The silkwrapped gun pocketed in his American garb, the killer stepped to the radio and lifted the lid of the

It was a combination phonograph and radio. From the turntable, which had stopped automatically, the

Mongol lifted a teninch phonograph record and slid it beneath his dark vest. Moving past the corpse; he was

careful not to crack the phonograph record, as he made a rapid search of Ryndon's clothes.

With a dozen pockets to turn inside out, the job took several minutes, despite the Mongol's expert touch.

Finished with the clothes, he tapped the pocket of Ryndon's pajama jacket, then had a look through a suitcase

that stood in the corner. Satisfied with his task, the Mongol fixed his gaze upon the greenish lamp.

Though his leer did not alter, the Mongol's eyes took on the same distant stare that Paul Brent had noted in

the case of Lana Luan. At that tine, it had not occurred to Paul that he, too, had held a similar fixed

expression, back in his hotel room. He might have realized it, had he remained to witness the actions of this

"Yes!" hissed the leering man, suddenly. "It is I, Hoang Khu. I hear you, master. All is done, Kha Khan!"

There was a pause, as if the evil brain behind the yellow face had received an important reminder. A clawlike

hand moved toward the greenish light. About to touch the glowing bulb, Hoang Khu quivered, as under a

Slanted eyes lost their stare as the Mongol's fingers gripped the light bulb, prepared to loose it from the

socket. An instant later, Hoang Khu gave up that purpose. Leaving the light aglow, he whisked from the table

and bounded, with a rubbery silence, to the open boxcouch at the front of the room.

Clutching one hand to protect the precious record, Hoang Khu vaulted the couch edge with the other. Landing

noiselessly, he sped a claw upward, drew the hinged top into place with an action as silent as it was speedy.

A streak of blackness stretched inward from the passage. It formed a hawkish silhouette upon the floor, then

dwindled, as the figure that cast it moved into the green light's glow. Of all intruders upon the scene of death,

He was a being cloaked in black, whose slouch hat obscured the profile that had momentarily registered itself

upon the floor. Unlike Shiwan Khan, who ruled evil from afar, this being, foe to crime, preferred to visit

FROM the moment of his entry, The Shadow began an intensified survey of the murder scene, accomplishing

his work with most efficient tactics. Starting with Ryndon's body, he noted its position, the condition of the

With one blackgloved hand, The Shadow tilted Ryndon's chin into the light. All the while, another gloved

hand was waiting, halfconcealed within The Shadow's cloak folds. The slightest move on the part of any

foe, hidden or otherwise, would have brought that ready hand into sight, armed with a .45 automatic.

In inspecting the body, The Shadow used a process that had occurred to neither Paul Brent nor Hoang Khu.

He stooped in the corner beyond the flattened form, so that he retained a view of the entire room. It was

impossible to tell whether he was actually looking at the body, or keeping camouflaged watch on other

True, there were moments when The Shadow's eyes displayed a reflected glow when they caught the rays of

the lamplight; but those moments were seldom, and afforded no opportunity to Hoang Khu, who was

The Mongol considered his own concealment safe. The interior of the couch was dark; no one, not even The

At intervals, the Mongol eased the couch top a trifle upward, while his other hand sought the handle of a

longbladed knife beneath his coat. But always, Hoang Khu was forced to let the top inch down again, when

Ryndon's clothes showed plainly that they had been searched. Therefore, The Shadow gave them a very brief

examination, which did not allow Hoang Khu time to get busy with the knife. Gliding about the room, The

Shadow passed close to the couch, but he was gone before Hoang Khu could take advantage of his nearness.

Reaching the radio, The Shadow used his system of standing against the wall beyond it, thus watching the

door, as well as the rest of the room the couch included while he made an inspection of the cabinet. He

Though the combination cabinet contained no records, there was dust on the phonograph needle. Peeling

away a glove by pressing his left hand beneath his right elbow, The Shadow stroked the needle point with his

One of Shiwan Khan's devices, that of influencing persons by sound, was definitely indicated to The Shadow.

During his roam about the room, the cloaked investigator had given passing glances to the green light. His

interest in the olivetinted bulb had been quite as frequent as Hoang Khu's efforts to bring a knife into play.

Back at the table, The Shadow was comparing the position of the light with that of Ryndon's body. A

Like the stroke of Shiwan Khan's gong, the tone was shuddery. But the air seemed to absorb it, repeating an

echoed sibilance, rather than be jarred. The Shadow's laugh remained a recollection, whereas the gong clang

The green light, as The Shadow saw it, had the sort of glow that would produce a hypnotic effect, the longer

Just how the bulb had been placed here, did not demand immediate consideration. Certain it was that Bob

Ryndon had stared at the curious glow, until too puzzled to do anything about it. His mind focused upon the

eyegripping brilliance, the victim had gone into a trancelike condition that had made his murder a simple

Ryndon had never sensed an intruder's entry. He hadn't felt the gun muzzle that had been planted squarely

against his spine. It was doubtful that the death shot had jarred him from his coma. Crime had been merciful,

in this case, but that did not indicate charity on the part of the insidious master who had ordained Ryndon's

Contrarily, a supercriminal who dealt in such calculating methods could resort to wanton cruelty, if it would

better serve a purpose. The Shadow had learned that often, in his campaign against living fiends.

GLOATING within the boxcouch, Hoang Khu was hopeful that the light would rivet The Shadow's

The Shadow, it seemed, had timed the brief limit in which it was safe to watch the light. Stepping from the

The slight crack on the edge of the boxcouch was gone. Settled inside, Hoang Khu was making rapid

changes in his plans. The knife was beneath his coat, with the phonograph record. Frantically, he was tugging

Shiwan Khan wanted that revolver as it was, with Paul Brent's fingerprints implanted upon it. Hoang Khu, the

tool, was spoiling one design of the hidden master, in an effort to save his own yellowhued hide. He had no

If The Shadow lifted the couch top, a knife would not suffice the Mongol. It would be a question of gun

against gun, and Hoang Khu's leer, though lost in darkness, was proof that the Mongol considered that he,

With passing minutes, Hoang Khu realized that The Shadow had apparently ignored the big couch as the

possible hiding place of an assassin. That was not entirely unreasonable; outwardly, the couch had an

appearance of solidness. Working the top upward with his free claw, the Mongol shoved the gun muzzle to

The Shadow, apparently satisfied that the room was empty, had returned to the light. This time, to test the

glow fully, he had seated himself before the table. The green glow had done the rest. The Shadow was

slouched forward toward the light, exactly as Ryndon had been when Hoang Khu murdered him.

Lifting the couch top higher, Hoang Khu aimed straight for The Shadow's back. Then, as a chance breeze

from the partly opened window stirred the cloak sleeve, the Mongol changed aim with a snakish action of his

claw. Tugging the trigger, Hoang Khu dispatched a bullet to the green light, instead of the black cloak.

Amid blackness wherein glass tinkled to the echoes of the gun blast, Hoang Khu sprang from the couch and

dived for the window. A figure shot from the doorway passage, caught the Mongol in a low, fast drive.

Hoang Khu's gun blasted again above The Shadow's shoulder. The shot told where the weapon was. A

Wrenching wildly, Hoang Khu managed to dodge the stroke of The Shadow's gun. Letting his own revolver

scale from his hand, he clawed at the longlimbed adversary who had sped in, cloakless, to intercept him.

Hoang Khu was fighting with the fierce writhe of a giant python, which told that his present desire was

Hoang Khu's hearing was no keener than The Shadow's. The Mongol had caught the creak of a door hinge

before The Shadow entered. Similarly, The Shadow had heard vague indications of the Mongol's rapid sneak

to the boxcouch. After lulling the hidden killer, The Shadow had tricked him into showing his hand.

Noting the betraying crack along the couch edge, The Shadow had seen it disappear. Whisking off cloak and

hat, he had draped them on the chair near the table. Choosing the passage, The Shadow had watched for

Hoang Khu's thrust. Only the chance breeze from the window had prevented Hoang Khu from completely

gobbling the bait. By shooting out the light, the Mongol had somewhat equalized matters.

His gun gone, Hoang Khu was after his knife. If gripped by the twisty yellow hand, the blade could prove a

powerful weapon in this grapple. The Shadow was not deceived by a crackle that came from beneath Hoang

Khu's coat. It was the phonograph record, not the Mongol's ribs, that had cracked.

To get the range he wanted, The Shadow whirled Hoang Khu toward the window, then loosed him with a half

fling. Dropping back, The Shadow aimed his gun. But the quickwitted Mongol didn't wait.

Head foremost, he crashed through the window, ruining the halflifted sash with his huge shoulder. Landing

By then, The Shadow was at the window, aiming his automatic. Had his finger tightened in its squeeze, there

would have been one less Mongol in the service of Shiwan Khan. But The Shadow was forced to hurry the

shot, with a jerky motion. A man lunged in from the doorway; behind him came the glare of a flashlight.

Jabbing his shot at Hoang Khu, The Shadow let the recoil carry him about. A tall figure in evening clothes,

one arm raised to hide his face, he drove squarely upon the pair who had arrived to start a combat of their

THEY were headquarters police. The Shadow learned that as he tussled with them. The flashlight had

clattered to the floor, and in the darkness the two men handled their guns earnestly, but with bluntness rather

than speed. The Shadow treated them to jujitsu tactics, which they recognized but could not duplicate. The

One detective was flung in a backward somersault that brought him, gunless, against the boxcouch. The

other was launched into a spinning dive that ended when he crashed into the radio cabinet. Whipping his

The halfgroggy dicks were groping for their guns. Finding them, they performed individual crawls toward

the glowing flashlight on the floor. Their paths crossing before they reached it, they locked in a

wellmatched grapple. By the time they had taken a few wild slugs at each other, they discovered their

By then, it was too late for them to even trace the combatant who had so suddenly left them. The Shadow had

reached the rear street, where he, in his turn, was learning the futility of gaining an immediate trail.

Again wearing hat and cloak, The Shadow used a tiny torch to discover small blobs of blood, that ended after

His shot had clipped Hoang Khu, but probably not seriously. The Mongol had reached friends and was safely

away. Those blood splotches, however, were not the only clues that he had dropped. Along, the sidewalk, The

Shadow found a few fragments of a broken phonograph record, which he promptly gathered.

Then, with a swift glide across the street, the cloaked being merged with the opposite darkness. Like others

whose paths had crossed the trail of Shiwan Khan, The Shadow was gone into the night.

IT was dusk again and Paul Brent, staring from the hotel window, was hoping that the lights of the Broadway

sign would begin their vivid whirl. The circles were moving, as they always did when the sign was

illuminated, but they had not swung into that peculiar effect of opposite revolutions, timed to the rhythm of

There was reason enough for Paul to seek the hypnotic opiate of those lights. He felt that they, alone, could

cure him of a different sort of bewilderment, which the day's events had induced.

On the writing desk lay a newspaper, with an account of Bob Ryndon's death. It told that the murdered

aviator's body had been found, following a phone call to the police. Who had given the tipoff, the

newspaper didn't say, but it had been a timely one. Headquarters men had almost managed to capture a

Paul agreed that it was unfortunate. He was convinced that he wasn't the man in question. Whatever else he

might have done, Paul hadn't wrestled with a brace of detectives. He at least remembered leaving Ryndon's

In his opinion, the murderer had returned to the scene of crime, and the police had nearly trapped him. A

nearcapture, however, did not lessen Paul's own dilemma. The newspapers said that the police had

Only too well did Paul realize that he had left his own imprints upon the revolver handle. Between him and

But that would not help, if the police learned that he was a friend of Ryndon's and decided to question him.

Once his fingerprints were taken, and compared with those on the gun, Paul Brent would be charged with

He remembered how Lana Luan had let the gun nestle in the folds of silk. Was the lovely Chinese girl a party

to the plot that might brand Paul as the killer? He did not know, but he hated to believe that she was. The

arrival of the returning murderer could have forced Lana Luan to drop the revolver and flee. In fairness to

What bothered him most, was a telegram from Globe Aircraft. It acknowledged receipt of the orders, and

Paul had received that wire this afternoon, and the fact that the order sheets were missing proved that he must

have mailed them. Unquestionably, he had done so during the same dazed period in which he had gone to

Paul could remember the lights. He was sure that they were responsible for all that had happened. That was

why he wanted to see them spin again, in hope that while under their influence, he could recapture some

WHILE Paul watched, the circles began their concentric revolutions. By the time they had returned to

Under the control of the being whose name he again could have spoken, Paul went to the writing desk.

Picking up a pencil, he wrote mechanically upon a sheet of paper, following the mental dictation that came

The quiver of a gong rang through Paul's head. With a shudder, he found himself at the writing desk. The

name of Shiwan Khan was erased from his memory, but upon the paper, in handwriting that was Paul's own,

It would be unwise to deny that the orders are as stated. Mistrust by Globe would result, demanding full

explanation. Such details would produce a link to Ryndon's death and bring suspicion from the police.

Though the statements were not Paul's own, they might just as well have been by the time that he had read

them. Until then, he had not connected the altered orders with the scene at Ryndon's. Knowing at last that

Some master brain had forced him to an illegal action, then had framed him as a murderer. Should he

repudiate the deed that he had actually performed, Paul would be convicted for a crime that he had not

Selfpreservation demanded that Paul Brent take no step to free himself from that dilemma. He could only

trust that in some way the schemes of a master plotter might be frustrated, thus releasing Paul and perhaps

Circumstances enmeshing Paul Brent were not as bad as he imagined. There was bluff behind the message

that Shiwan Khan had forced the dupe to write. The Shadow had scored definite points against his invisible

During the periods when he discarded cloak and hat, The Shadow frequently posed as Lamont Cranston, a

wealthy globetrotter who spent many of his idle hours at the exclusive Cobalt Club. The membership list

included Cranston's friend, Police Commissioner Ralph Weston, who liked the quiet of the club for

As was usual, when crime was on the rampage, Weston was at the Cobalt Club chatting with his ace

inspector, Joe Cardona, while Cranston sat by, almost a disinterested listener. Actually, The Shadow was

"THERE'S not enough prints on that gun to convict a flea!" Cardona was growling to the commissioner.

The Shadow's lips framed a slight smile. Though he had not learned of Paul's visit, he knew that the death

gun, if kept by Hoang Khu, could have proven a valuable tool in the incrimination of an innocent party. Lack

of Hoang Khu's fingerprints did not matter. The Shadow intended to find that murderous Mongol himself.

"I let the reporters think we had the prints, though," added Cardona. "I told them, too, what we'd found out

about Ryndon. How he had gone to a place called Sinkiang, to sell a lot of old crates to the government there,

"Sinkiang is part of China," corrected the commissioner. "They call it the New Dominion. Am I correct,

The smile was traceable upon the hawkish, masklike features of Cranston. His tone was leisurely when he

"Sinkiang is not precisely what they call it," said The Shadow. "A new dominion, yes, but in a sense its own

dominion. It lies between Tibet on the south, and Mongolia on the north. It is a restive land in some ways

"It is close enough to feel the influence of Tibet, the one country where mind rules supreme, yet it feels the

force of Mongolia, where brute strength has long been a standard. Sinkiang may some day become the very

Weston decided to test Cranston's knowledge of geography further. The commissioner nodded to Cardona,

who produced a small, ruddy object that glimmered in the light. Holding it upon the palm of his hand,

Weston displayed it to Cranston. The object was an exquisite ruby of ancient cut.

"Not originally," was Cranston's reply. "Stones of pomegranatered, like that one, are mined only in Ceylon."

"I told you!" Weston gave a nod to Cardona. "This must be one of the rubies from the Twindell collection.

The Shadow was instantly intrigued. He knew of the famous gem collection owned by Benjamin Twindell, a

wealthy and eccentric New Yorker. Twindell had been disposing of his gems in batches, during the past six

A connection between Ryndon and the Twindell gems offered new angles. In Cranston's casual tone, The

"We found it in his vest pocket," informed Cardona, "tucked down in the corner. Whoever turned those

pockets inside out missed finding it. All right, the ruby didn't come from China."

"It could have," remarked The Shadow. "Ryndon was in Sinkiang. He might have obtained the ruby there."

"Maybe they kick people's heads around for footballs in Sinkiang," he said, "but they don't shoot marbles

with rubies. I talked with a lot of gem dealers. They say the only valuable stuff that comes from the territory

"Twindell's representative. He buys up whatever Twindell tells him. Right now, Thorner says the old man's

gone nuts over the Chinese curios. Thinks they're bargains, because a lot of them have been shipped over here

for sale. But Thorner argues the opposite. He says the market is glutted. But when Twindell says buy,

"Whenever there's an auction down in Chinatown, to hear Thorner talk. But to get back to the ruby, Thorner

is sure it was one of Twindell's lot, so there's no use wasting time by going to see a few smallfry dealers."

WHEN Cranston strolled from the club, he left Weston and Cardona checking lists of Ryndon's friends. From

the names and addresses already compiled, it appeared that they would have to get out an international search

warrant, if such a thing existed, to even find the people that the dead stunt flier knew.

They had picked a tougher task than rounding up all the gem dealers in New York; but The Shadow,

meanwhile, had set himself a simple and direct task. He intended to visit the next important auction that was

From a bluelit room that served him as a sanctum, The Shadow called his contact man, Burbank. Soon, he

was connected through to Dr. Roy Tam, an influential Chinese business man, who had cooperated often

From Dr. Tam, The Shadow learned that the next auction was scheduled for tonight, in the curio shop

Dr. Tam knew little about Loo Look, but he had much to say regarding other matters that The Shadow

mentioned. The call finished, The Shadow glanced at the clock upon his table, noted that he had ample time

From beneath the table, The Shadow brought a portable phonograph. Upon its turntable, he placed a patched

There were cracky sounds as the disk revolved beneath the needle. Snatches of music, then intervals of

silence. The record was composed of the fragments that Hoang Khu had dropped. They had been fitted into a

Listening to the reconstructed record, The Shadow heard a few words from the voice of a pretended radio

announcer; then came the finish that he wanted. With clearness, the phonograph gave forth the sounds of a

Shrouding curtains quivered upon the sanctum walls, as the black drapes took the vibrance of Shiwan Khan's

weird token. When their waver ended, another shudder seemed to stir them. Through the sanctum throbbed

The bluish light clicked off. A deep hush gathered in the solid gloom. The sanctum was empty. The Shadow

had departed, bent upon another opportunity that might prove a setback to the schemes of Shiwan Khan!

LOO LOOK'S store resembled many others in Chinatown. It was on the ground floor of a building near the

corner of Mott and Pell Streets, and it was the sort of place that usually attracted outoftown visitors when

A bland, rather squatty Chinaman, Loo Look had rolled in from somewhere and had bought out the merchant

who occupied the premises. He had promptly closed the shop for alterations, then had begun a series of

This was the third sale of the sort, and the placards in the windows advertised it as the last. There were not

very many patrons, because the junk on display in the window would hardly attract a connoisseur, and the

Chinatown bus drivers were herding their patrons past Loo Look's toward other shops, where the managers

Certain it was that Loo Look had an independent way about him, even to the point of discouraging customers,

which caused The Shadow to hope for real developments the moment that he entered the almostdeserted

Coming to the auction as Lamont Cranston, The Shadow naturally arrived in a limousine. The chauffeur had

to drive away to find a parking space, but his departure did not deprive The Shadow of American

There were three on the street: Cliff Marsland, who looked like a tough guy visiting Chinatown for a laugh;

Hawkeye, a stoopshouldered fellow who had the shifty shamble of a panhandler; and Clyde Burke, a

newspaper reporter on the Classic, who frequently visited Chinatown for human interest stories.

All were agents of The Shadow. Of the three, Clyde was the one most likely to happen into the auction shop.

One was Harry Vincent, a cleancut young chap who seemed to have a genuine interest in Chinese curios.

The other was Rutledge Mann, a portly, roundfaced individual who ran an investment and insurance

Tonight, Mann was needed for a duty other than cutting out news reports and filing them. His mission was

fulfilled when a sallow, quickeyed man entered the auction room and immediately began an expert survey

of art objects on display. Mann gave a thoughtful nod that was meant for Lamont Cranston.

It signified that the arrival was Herbert Thorner, the purchasing representative of Benjamin Twindell.

Perched on a small platform flanked by two wide Chinese screens, Loo Look began the sale. His audience

was enlarging, but most of it was Chinese. Loo Look grinned broadly as he hammered the table with a gavel.

If the Chinese buyers thought that they were going to get merchandise at prices less than wholesale, to sell to

other shops, they were mistaken. Loo Look's glance toward the side room told that much. He was gazing at

Each time the auctioneer offered an item, Thorner announced a bid higher than anyone would normally give.

Meeting with no competition, he won the chance to purchase. Thorner's whole attitude justified the

statements that he had made to Cardona; namely, that old Twindell wanted to buy curios, hence it was

There was one feature of the auction, however, that held The Shadow's interest. The wares that Loo Look

offered were objects of worth, better than the odds and ends displayed in the window. Thorner was getting his

Evidently, Loo Look had discouraged other buyers, in order to give Thorner full call. The Shadow saw some

LIFTING a little curtain at the back of the platform, Loo Look brought out new items. A pair of exquisite

vases produced a babble from the Chinese present. They entered the bidding, but stopped when Thorner

offered five hundred dollars. Loo Look was ready to knock down the sale, when The Shadow spoke in

In quick, sharp tone, Thorner raised the price to seven hundred. The Shadow offered seven hundred and fifty.

Later, an ivory pagoda was auctioned off. Again the bidding waxed between The Shadow and Thorner. When

Cranston's calm tone announced twelve hundred dollars as the bid, a wince appeared upon Thorner's sallow

features. With another shrug, Twindell's representative let the sale go through.

A change was noticeable on Loo Look's fattish face. The auctioneer was troubled because Thorner had a

rival. He glanced over toward the sallow man, who coolly ignored him. Whatever else was due, Thorner was

Instead of bearing down on Thorner, Loo Look tried to impress Cranston, and found it did not work.

Actually, Loo Look was pleased. He thought that he had found the system by which he could eliminate the

Turning to the curtain, Loo Look fumbled a few moments, then brought out a porcelain dragon, excellent

Setting the dragon upon the table, where it stood a foot high, Loo Look tapped it affectionately and let his

Like Cranston, Thorner was indifferent. A Chinaman offered five hundred dollars. Loo Look lifted the gavel,

was about to swing it, when Thorner stepped in with a sixhundreddollar bid. Before Loo Look could

pound the bid through, The Shadow had casually raised the offer by a hundred dollars.

From then on, it was a duel of price, and with good reason. Anyone could have risked a large offer for that

dragon. Like Thorner, The Shadow knew it to be a work of the Ch'ien Lung period, which any collector of

Hundred by hundred, the bids were jumping into the thousands. With every increase, Loo Look became more

nervous very odd behavior for an auctioneer. Thorner, backed by the Twindell wealth, seemed quite

unconcerned. At last, there was another shrug, this time from Cranston. It came when Thorner offered ten

Loo Look's gavel hit the block from its own sheer weight. Glad that the ordeal was over, he wiped his

forehead with the curtain when he turned in that direction. He offered a few more items, but none was

important. After disposing of a small bronze incense burner that Thorner bought for a mere ten dollars, Loo

Some of the Chinese onlookers were leaving the auction room. Vincent and Mann went out with them. The

Shadow, of course, remained, because he had made purchases. Thorner was getting first service.

Helpers were carrying his trophies out to a car, the porcelain dragon along with them, but Thorner was not

paying for his purchases. He simply signed a receipt, which Loo Look accepted, then turned and followed the

From the platform, Loo Look met Cranston's gaze. Shifting his eyes, the auctioneer saw the bank notes that

longfingered hands were peeling from a large roll. Looking farther, Loo Look observed that only Chinese

were still in the auction room. Leaning forward, he inquired in confidential tone:

The Shadow acknowledged that he did. Loo Look gripped him by the arm, drew him to the platform.

STEPPING to the curtained shelf at the rear of the platform, Loo Look probed beyond it. From the motion of

his hands, he was trying to indicate that he was drawing another dragon from the shelf, but there was

Loo Look's hands were too far apart. Before he could finish whatever he was about, The Shadow was making

a long leap in the auctioneer's direction. He caught Loo Look's left wrist, clamping it tight. The Chinaman's

Instantly, the platform slid apart beneath The Shadow's springing feet. The quick slither of those separating

halves was not swift enough to trap him. Like a skater leaving a layer of crackling ice, The Shadow reached

With the failure of that thrust, another came. The ornate screens beside the platform were overturned. From

each side sprang a pair of murderous Mongols, four assassins of the Hoang Khu type, whipping long knives

into play. They did not have to cross the opened floor. They could throw those blades.

Their hands went back for the hurls that The Shadow, in his present position, could not hope to stop. The

knives flashed wildly. A splitting surge of human forms had bowled in on the Mongols.

Those alert allies, springing to The Shadow's aid, were not his own agents. They were men from whom

neither Loo Look nor the Mongols had expected an attack: the crowd of Chinese who had remained clustered

His head bobbing frantically from side to side, Loo Look saw the Mongols fighting off a human flood. With a

highpitched cry, the treacherous auctioneer managed to complete the pull of his left fingers, despite The

Shadow's grip. He tugged the switch that he had tried to yank before he slid the floor apart.

Every light was extinguished. Amid the blackness, the excited babble of many voices, Loo Look gave a

frenzied writhe. It did not take him from The Shadow's clutch, but it produced another result. Twisting, Loo

Look was overbalanced from the ledge. He had launched himself into the blackened pit that he had opened.

Perhaps Loo Look preferred the fate that lay below, if it would only free him from The Shadow. But even his

suicidal effort did not bring release. The Shadow retained his tenacious grip, though it cost him his foothold

Into those yawning depths went two locked figures. They were bound for the same destination, Loo Look and

THE plunge was short, but with a solid finish for Loo Look. Even in the swift dive from the ledge, which

he had accepted at a moment's notice, The Shadow had calculated the result and found time to gain a suitable

Bland Chinamen like Loo Look didn't throw themselves away while they still had hope of life. The

It jarred Loo Look, however, much more than he had expected. Dropping from the ground floor to a stony

basement was not healthy, with another man's weight plunging with him, to land on top of him. That was

exactly what happened to Loo Look. In his twist, he had gone first, with The Shadow following.

Rising from the floor, The Shadow flicked a tiny flashlight upon the prostrate auctioneer. Loo Look was

stunned, and would remain so for a while. From the open trap above him, The Shadow could hear excited

yells, too babbled to interpret. It might be that his loyal Chinese needed help.

Looking for a way out, The Shadow saw a single door to the stonewalled cellar room. It had a knob, but

before The Shadow could grip it, the door did the unexpected. It opened, not on a hinge, but in a sliding

fashion. Guided by a gleaming light behind them, a pair of Mongols hurled themselves upon The Shadow.

He met them in between their knifelunging hands. A fist to a jaw floored the first. The Shadow took a throat

grip on the second killer, twisted him about and flung him toward the man who held the light.

There was a sweep of a bobbing flashlight, that glared upon the face of Hoang Khu. Then The Shadow was

Shiwan Khan had taken no chances in disposing of The Shadow. He had ordered Hoang Khu and two others

to be ready to deliver the coup de grace after Loo Look dropped The Shadow in the pit. But none of the trio

was able to supply the finishing touch. Even certainties were apt to fail, against The Shadow's strategy.

Upstairs, four of the Mongol fighters were having a tough time with a horde of Chinese. Meanwhile The

Shadow, lonehanded, was giving three others an unexpected battle. He had flung Hoang Khu aside and was

somewhere in the passage when the three performed another fling in his direction.

Knives, whirling through the air in the blanketing darkness, were met by stabbing tongues of flame that

brought howls from the Mongols. One sprawled on the passage floor; another staggered, locking with The

Their knives had missed in the darkness, for they thought The Shadow had dived toward the end of the long

passage. The one man who had heard the others stumble was making for a stairway that offered a chance of

In the struggle, there had been no chance for any Mongol, Hoang Khu least of all, to identify The Shadow as

anything more than a whirlwind fighter. By producing immediate darkness, The Shadow had been quite as

Hoang Khu had recognized The Shadow by deed. With his mates fallen, Hoang Khu had known enough not

SHAKING off the wobbly grappler, The Shadow started after Hoang Khu. As he reached the stone steps, a

light gleamed above. Someone had pressed the switch that Loo Look had cut off. With The Shadow at the

Again, The Shadow's finger was on a gun trigger, ready to drop Ryndon's murderer, when intervention saved

Hoang Khu. This time, it was not The Shadow who received the attack. Instead, flinging men hurled

themselves upon Hoang Khu. They were the victorious Chinese coming from the auction room, to learn what

Hoang Khu became the center of a human tangle, with The Shadow unable to risk a shot. At no moment was

the Mongol entirely visible; sometimes his head bobbed into sight; at others, The Shadow glimpsed one of his

A white bandage showed on Hoang Khu's left wrist, a souvenir of the flesh wound that The Shadow had

given him the night before. Knifeless, and partly crippled, Hoang Khu's chances looked slim against the half

Numbers, however, seemed to matter little to the wiry, heavymuscled Mongol, provided The Shadow was

not among his antagonists. He was shedding his Chinese opponents with heaves of his broad shoulders.

Landing on hands and knees, they were crawling back toward Hoang Khu, when he finally disposed of the

Turning his twist into a drive, Hoang Khu sent the pair down the stairway, straight into the path of The

Shadow's gun. Springing upward, The Shadow met the light forms of the pitching Chinese and halted their

fall, but the delay cost him his chance to settle matters with Hoang Khu. The Mongol was gone, pursued by

Knowing that trouble still lurked below, The Shadow swung about and reached the bottom of the stairs. He

dropped back on the lowest step, as a Mongol made a lunge toward him. The Shadow's adversary was the

wounded man whose tussle had led to Hoang Khu's escape. With a knife plucked from the floor, the fellow

His lunge was staggery, too high. As the knife descended past The Shadow's shoulder, the Mongol received a

gun muzzle against his chest. He heard The Shadow's sharp words in a tongue he understood, ordering him to

surrender. Before the Mongol could halt his stagger and snarl a reply, a revolver spoke instead, from the top

Thrusting aside the crumpling body of the Mongol, The Shadow arose to receive a bespectacled Chinaman,

who was hurrying down the stairway. The arrival was Dr. Tam, and he became ardent in his apologies.

He had seen the Mongol's lunge, but had not realized that The Shadow had the assassin under complete

control. It would have been well, Tam recognized, to have kept this Mongol alive.

"The others have all escaped," said Tam, his tone quite sorrowful. "They broke through panels that we did not

know about. It is unfortunate, very, that the men I sent here to help you were unable to do better."

The Shadow insisted that they had done well enough. He conducted Tam along the passage, beyond the prone

Mongol who had been the first to fall. By the light that came through the open trap to Loo Look's auction

Yanking Loo Look to his feet, The Shadow spoke to him in Chinese. He was demanding the name of Loo

Look's master, but the fellow did not want to give it. Finding his voice, he uttered a highpitched jargon that

Loo Look was saying that he had been paid to run the auction house, but he did not specify why, nor did he

state the name of the man who had hired him. Loo Look's evasive speech ended abruptly when The Shadow

Loo Look spoke it, with a gulp. Fearful of the foe who now gripped him, he discarded his allegiance to his

AS if the loosing of that name had wrenched his lips, Loo Look's mouth stiffened into a frozen writhe. The

scream that he gargled came deep from his throat, issuing wildly through his halfopened mouth. With a

Before The Shadow could halt Loo Look's torturous forward lurch; before Dr. Tam could thrust himself in

front, to break the fall, Loo Look, his hands clasped tight to his stomach, struck the floor, shoulder first,

Seemingly, he had been struck down by the invisible hand of Shiwan Khan, in new evidence of the

controlling master's unfathomable powers. Nor was that all. Like a token of delivered death, there came a

Alarm flashed from the eyes of Dr. Tam as the bespectacled Chinaman stared toward his friend, The Shadow.

Imperturbably, The Shadow pointed to the face of Loo Look. Dropping his gaze, Tam saw the stream of

Internally injured by his fall from the floor above, Loo Look had succumbed from the straining effort when

As for the clang that followed, it was likewise a coincidence. It came again, louder, ending with a smash.

The police were breaking through the front of Loo Look's auction house. Shaking Dr. Tam into motion, The

Shadow started him out through the passage and up the stone stairs. They were crossing the landing, when the

invading police saw them and raised a shout. But there was no chance for the Chinatown Squad to overtake

Just as Hoang Khu had woven a path through broken panels and short zigzag passages, to escape Tam's loyal

crew, so did The Shadow and the estimable Chinese doctor elude the blundering police. Through outside

They were bound for Tam's own headquarters, where The Shadow could contact his agents. After that, The

Shadow and Dr. Tam would mark out the next step in their common cause; the trailing of Shiwan Khan!

WHILE rapid battle raged in Loo Look's place, some of The Shadow's agents had scattered a flock of

toughlooking Chinese out front. Dr. Tam had expected such trouble, when he concentrated some of his men

at the auction house. Though tong wars were a thing of the past, lesser feuds still existed in Chinatown.

The dispersed Chinese rioters knew nothing about Shiwan Khan, nor did they unwittingly serve him by

making trouble. Others of The Shadow's agents had sped away on another appointed quest. They were

trailing Herbert Thorner and his load of curios, which included the rare Ch'ien Lung dragon.

Paced by Moe Shrevnitz, a speedy cab driver in The Shadow's service, the agents had caught up with

Thorner's car when it reached its final destination, an old brownstone mansion on an isolated stretch of

avenue. They recognized the house the moment that they saw it; the home of Benjamin Twindell.

The car was expected. Two stocky servants came from the Twindell mansion and helped the chauffeur

unload. Thorner was no longer in the car; he had dropped off somewhere along the route. From the wheel of

Harry remembered that the pursuit had led near Pennsylvania Station; that Thorner could have dropped off

there. The purchasing agent had left for parts unknown; perhaps he had taken the porcelain dragon with him.

Among the wrapped packages being carried into the mansion, it was impossible to tell if the Ch'ien Lung

Twindell's mansion was built like a citadel. The only policy was to watch it and check on anyone who entered

or left. When Moe wanted to follow Twindell's chauffeur, Harry said no. The fellow could supply no

Soon, Harry's foresight was proven. A cab stopped near Twindell's house. When it drew away, Harry was

sure he saw a yellow face behind the wheel. He ordered Moe to trail the other cab, and signaled the deployed

The order was too late. Instinctively, every agent had glanced toward the moving cab, then back toward

Twindell's house. During the interim, a figure in darkish gray had crossed the sidewalk and taken a short

There was no haste to the newcomer's motion. When he reached the side door he stood there, apparently

He was by no means invisible, but his outline was vague, much like a camouflaged pattern. Even his saffron

face was no more than a blur that could have been a portion of the dingy yellow brick that formed the house

The human chameleon lifted one hand slowly, let it glide to a bell button beside the door. Oddly, his finger

did not actually press the button; it merely remained against it, then folded into the hand as it descended.

He was close enough to see the face outside the doorway, that servant, but, curiously, he didn't. The gleam of

eyes faded as the man in gray let his eyelids droop. The servant's puzzled gaze went past him, almost through

Stepping from the doorway, he looked along the house wall. Seeing nothing, he went back inside and closed

The thing in gray was no longer outside the doorway. With its same slow motion, the figure had moved into

the house. Watching the servant, The Shadow's agents did not see it go. Again, a conspicuous sight had

GLOOMY as a morgue, Twindell's mansion had a grand stairway leading to the second floor. Like an

ancestral ghost come back to haunt the place, the gray shape moved up the steps, undiscerned by servants

At the top, the unheralded visitant turned to the right. At the end of a short passage, he stepped into a lighted

The room was Twindell's study. It had desks, filing cabinets, and other office furniture; but it also served as a

curio room. Except for a few old weapons, which included Turkish scimitars and African spears, the place

Large screens and garish tapestries dominated the scene; but on a mantelpiece above a fireplace opposite

Twindell's big desk sat a row of porcelain dragons, four in all. They were placed where Twindell could stare

Old Benjamin Twindell was at his desk at present, but he was not looking at the mantel. Instead, he was

Against the black background of a large safe set in the wall behind his desk, Twindell's face looked very

white and withery. But his eyes were sharp, and his hands, despite their tightskinned thickness, were very

Those hands were fondling the new dragon as they would stroke a pet. At moments, Twindell's fingers went

tight and clutched the smooth porcelain. Those moments marked his greatest glee, and Twindell had a habit

of tilting his head back when he cackled. In the midst of one tilt, his chortle ended in a sharp croak.

Twindell's eyes had sighted the figure in the doorway. His lips gave a fishlike gasp; then from his thin throat

Small wonder that Shiwan Khan excited such complete awe from the man who viewed him. His very arrival

was uncanny, in a house so thoroughly guarded. His appearance went with that weird ability. When Shiwan

Khan wanted eyes to look elsewhere, they did not see him. When he wished them to fix upon his face, they

Shiwan Khan's loosefitting clothes were American. Considerably oversize, they had a baggy appearance.

His features made that drab garb fade from mind. After meeting Shiwan Khan face to face, one retained a

mental picture of him as a being clothed in a robe of dull gold. Benjamin Twindell could recall that

The saffron color of Shiwan Khan's face was the exact hue of the room lights, which produced the curious

impression that the features were actually colorless, but gifted with the ability of absorbing the light about

Wide at the forehead, the face tapered to a pointed chin. Set in the center of that triangle was a thin, straight

nose that stood as sharply as a ruled line. Beneath thin eyebrows that curved almost to the temples were green

Thin mustaches hung down from his upper lip, and on his chin was a slight dab of whiskers.

Shiwan Khan's mouth seemed lipless, until he opened it. Then, from lips that were thin streaks of brown, his

voice dropped slow, wellaccented words that broke the hush like tinkles of a bell.

"Have no fear concerning your dragon," added Shiwan Khan. "Five are already yours. The remaining two

"It will not be wise for Thorner to buy them as he did before," spoke Shiwan Khan, in his singular tone. "I

shall have a messenger meet him with the next one. As for the final dragon, I shall choose a special method of

"My plans are never changed!" Shiwan Khan's slitted mouth widened into a contemptuous smile, that could

"From my hidden domain in Xanadu, beneath the barren reaches on the borders of Mongolia. You remember,

"I am the descendant of Genghis Khan!" For the first time, the visitor's voice showed change in tone. "Of the

conqueror who could have ruled all the world, had he so chosen. I hold the treasures of his descendant, Kubla

"Treasure is not power. Like my ancestors, I am destined to become the Great Ruler. All the world shall call

me Kha Khan! I shall have power, Twindell, supreme power! And you, because you have served me, shall

Shiwan Khan paused. His strange green eyes roved from the desk to the mantel, then back again, to the object

that Twindell so eagerly clutched. His voice restored to its accustomed level, Shiwan Khan concluded:

Happy, Twindell was nodding. Then Shiwan Khan was close beside the desk. Close to Twindell's ear, he was

"In Tibet, I learned the power of the distant mind; with that mastery, I control the ways of men. To gain the

instruments that I need for conquest is simple, where ordinary persons are concerned. But there are others

"There was trouble tonight, in Chinatown. I know its maker, a creature who calls himself The Shadow. All

that he can have learned from Loo Look is my name. But he, or someone sent by him, may seek more from

"Should you be questioned by The Shadow, give him this casket" Shiwan Khan produced a small, square

silver box from beneath his baggy coat "and say that it contains the answer that will satisfy him. From its

"Yet what he learns will not destroy my plans, nor yours. But remember, Twindell with all others, you

know nothing. You are competent enough to deceive them. With The Shadow, I can trust no strength but my

Nodding, Twindell received the silver casket and placed it carefully in a desk drawer. There was a bell button

on the desk; Twindell saw Shiwan Khan place his finger upon it. The greenish eyes were fixed in a glowing

"I have projected the impression," said Shiwan Khan, "that will bring your servant. When he arrives, ask him

who rang at the side door. When he says no one, tell him to make sure that he bolted the door."

"He will not see me. The human form that remains motionless is seldom seen. When the brain behind that

form can suspend its action of thought, it gives off no impressions. That accomplished, the bodily form is

STEPPING halfway toward the door, Shiwan Khan became rigid. His eyes stared into space, then closed.

Twindell watched him, half expecting him to fade away. Then Twindell's attention was attracted by the

"I'm glad you asked that, sir." The servant was relieved. "I am sure that someone rang. But there was no one

"Very well. When you go downstairs, see that the door is bolted. You may have forgotten it."

As Harper went out, Twindell looked for Shiwan Khan. The greeneyed visitor was no longer in the room.

Like Harper, Twindell had become unconscious of his presence. Shiwan Khan had left, unnoticed!

The side door was unbolted when Harper found it. Shiwan Khan had drawn the bolt, to move outdoors. He

was a gray shape, timing his slowmotion advance to the approach of a cab. It was the one that The Shadow's

agents had seen before. It had simply kept circling, with Moe on the trail, until the appointed time for its

After a halt, the cab pulled away. None of the watchers had seen a passenger enter it. Moe still followed, but

Swinging a corner, the cab halted at the curb. Its occupants remained motionless, as Moe wheeled past on an

imaginary trail. Again, Shiwan Khan had demonstrated the power of mind. His cab turned about, sped away

A blackcloaked figure was arriving, meanwhile, among the agents stationed outside of Twindell's.

Receiving reports in person, The Shadow was told that no one had entered or left the mansion.

Only The Shadow could have detected the weird coming and going of Shiwan Khan. And The Shadow had

LIKE The Shadow, Shiwan Khan had devious routes in darkness; ways that led him to a hidden headquarters.

The base that Shiwan Khan used was quite as remarkable as The Shadow's sanctum, and it possessed some

The walls of the lair were hung with dull gold cloth, the same color of the robe that Shiwan Khan was now

wearing. It was odd that Twindell, who had never seen that robe, should picture it as part of the master

Mongol's makeup. Perhaps it was the powerful force of Shiwan Khan's thoughts that had given Twindell the

Alone in his lair, Shiwan Khan could wear the habits of a mighty ruler. It was not mere whim that made him

don that robe. From here, Shiwan Khan showed the power of his rule over the minds of men!

Opposite the door of the goldwalled room was a small alcove. There, Shiwan Khan seated himself in a chair

that had the ornate appearance of a small throne. Coupled with that ancient touch, the chair had a modern

Facing a glass board that covered the rear wall of the alcove, Shiwan Khan gave further evidence of his

ability at thought projection. He was using telepathy, the art that he had learned in Tibet, in combination with

In the East, the reception of projected thoughts was common. To apply it in America, something was needed

to obtain the attention of untrained receivers, and Shiwan Khan had the required method.

He placed his long forefinger upon a button and actually pressed it. Immediately, lights showed upon the

glass in front of him. Shiwan Khan gazed at a bird with moving wings; at circles, of different colors, that ran

In miniature, those lights formed an exact replica of the Broadway sign visible from Paul Brent's hotel

window. Connected by a distant control, the sign was speeding up just like the lights on the glass board. To

His eyes fixed, Shiwan Khan went into a selfinduced trance. Finally, in belllike tone, he spoke:

"I am Shiwan Khan. The thought that next comes to your mind is one that you shall remember."

From the small table beneath the board, Shiwan Khan drew a photograph of Lana Luan. He brought the

"Lana Luan. You have met her in reality. You meet her in your dream. Lana Luan."

Lowering the picture, Shiwan Khan lifted a small hammer, struck it lightly against a large gong that hung

beside the flashing board. Golden curtains gave a quiver, that persisted even when the tone had ended.

He had given Paul Brent an added impression, another link that would keep him committed on the matter of

the airplane contracts. Lana Luan was the link. Paul would remember that name from his brief haze. But

Pressing a second switch, Shiwan Khan produced a new array of lights upon the board. They showed a

manycolored sign advertising a brand of cigarettes. The lights came on with a long glow, then unexpectedly

The blank seemed timed, for when the glare appeared again, it came at an instant that produced a pulsating

THE same effect jarred a grayhaired man who was pacing the veranda of a penthouse near Times Square.

He saw the lights of the real sign, a huge affair, a dozen blocks away and stopped his incessant walk.

Many persons would have recognized that grayhaired man. He was Guy Chadbury, who held controlling

interests in several companies that manufactured explosives. Chadbury had recently been in the news because

Chadbury had been authorized to manufacture munitions, chiefly bombs for airplanes, to determine the

potential output of his factories in the event of war. At present, quantities of such munitions were ready for

In New York for conference with the managers of his factories, Chadbury had obtained this penthouse at a

Every night, he had been attracted by the lights of the cigarette sign. They had a timing that caught the eye

and held it; but only at certain hours. Chadbury had watched them often, wondering if the effect would occur

His arms propped on the railing, Chadbury became motionless. The world was a void, except for those

repeating lights. Even they seemed to blur as Chadbury heard a slow, faraway voice, which struck him as

From then on, the voice was closer, wording thoughts that seemed to grow in Chadbury's own mind. It was

calling him a fool to sell the full supply of munitions at cost, when he could rate his factories on one month's

Those voiced thoughts were reminding him of recent orders for blasting materials, to be shipped to South

American copper mines. If the munitions were sent instead, they would be welcome when received.

Striving to fight off the urge for doubledealing, Chadbury was swept with a thought that had troubled him

the night before. It concerned his niece, Beatrice. She was his brother's daughter, but close enough to

Through his mind throbbed the uncontrollable conviction that Beatrice was linked with the plan in question,

Turning in trancelike fashion, Chadbury walked into the penthouse. Seating himself at a table in the corner of

the living room, he began to pencil notes upon a sheet of paper. He was thus engaged when his secretary

After a few minutes, the secretary ventured to interrupt Chadbury's thoughts. With a slight cough, he

Chadbury did not hear the interruption. At that moment, his brain was ringing from the jarring note of a

discordant gong. Jolting up in his chair, he gripped the table, as if waking from a nightmare. Blinking, he saw

"Oh, hello, Briggs!" Chadbury's long face showed a tired smile. "I must have been asleep. What is it?"

"Of course!" Chadbury glanced at the desk. "Yes. Here they are. Take them down, Briggs, as I give them."

"That's odd," he said. "I've put these on a basis of one month's output. If we double them "

He stopped himself. Written below the hurried figures was the one word, a name: "Beatrice." Chadbury

"Anything from the Queen Anne?" he demanded abruptly. "Did Beatrice answer that radiogram I told you to

"There is an answering radiogram in those papers, Briggs. Let me have it at once!"

TAKING the radiogram from the troubled secretary, Chadbury read it. The message fitted his worriment. It

stated that his niece was not on board the steamship Queen Anne, the ship on which she had booked passage

for a Mediterranean cruise. The liner was four days out. Beatrice had been missing all that while.

"She's still in New York, Briggs!" he exclaimed. "At least, let us hope she is. I should have gone with her to

the pier. I would have, if it had not been for that appointment with a man who did not arrive here!"

"No." Chadbury's eyes were back upon the desk. "After all, there is no need to worry." Chadbury was

speaking grimly, his gaze upon his own notations. "We shall hear from Beatrice. She probably missed the

boat, and did not want me to be alarmed. By taking a regular liner, she could meet the cruise ship at

"Write the figures that I give you. The government only wants delivery on one month's output."

"Yes. I talked with Washington today, while you were out. The rest of the supply" Chadbury was tracing

his own scrawled notations "is to go to our New Jersey storage plant, along with the blasting materials."

With that, Chadbury crumpled the paper that lay on the desk and flung it into the wastebasket. He had lied to

Briggs about that talk with Washington. But Chadbury knew that he was no longer his own master, not if he

He was fighting to recall a name the name of Shiwan Khan but it escaped his recollections. Like Paul

Brent, he was fighting for some chance to shake off a baleful influence. At heart, however, Guy Chadbury

IN Shiwan Khan's golden lair, three lights were glowing on the glassfronted board. In the living room of a

Long Island residence, a heavyjawed man was leaning back in a chair staring at the room lights, which

The man with the bulldog countenance was Mitchell Dorron, manager of the Tropical Export Line, which

owned a fleet of freighters. His eyes were fixed on the room lights; his lips were moving slowly, as Dorron

"On the Aritoba, bound for Chili," muttered Dorron, in a rumbling tone. "Shipments from Globe Aircraft and

"Through the Canal, the Aritoba will change course for the Orient, with her cargo, duplicating the trip of the

The lights in Dorron's living room lost their glow at the distant touch provided by Shiwan Khan. Dorron

heard the stroke of a gong; it seemed to echo from the dome of a reading lamp beside his shoulder. His eyes

He could remember the name of Shiwan Khan, though he knew that it soon would fade. But he would not

This was not the first time that he had served his invisible master. The trip that he was arranging for the

Aritoba was identical with a voyage that the freighter's sister ship, the Southern Star, had made one month

Reading the names of Paul Brent and Guy Chadbury, men with whom he would soon have dealings, Dorron

gave a chuckle. They were new to the ways of Shiwan Khan. Dorron fancied that they were not enjoying

Paul Brent was seated in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling, trying to recapture portions of odd experiences

that had ensnared him. All that he could see was the everappearing face of Lana Luan, the Chinese girl that

he had met in actuality, as well as in the strange dreamworld ruled by Shiwan Khan.

In his penthouse, Guy Chadbury was gazing solemnly at an actual photograph of a very beautiful girl with

dark eyes and raven hair. She was his niece Beatrice, and in the photograph she was wearing an evening

Chadbury could picture Beatrice in various other costumes. But it never occurred to him that a highcollared

jacket adorned with peacocks and poppy leaves would cause anyone to imagine Beatrice to be a Chinese girl.

Paul Brent could have informed him on that subject. He would have identified that lovely face immediately,

could he have viewed the photograph. But he did not know the girl as Beatrice Chadbury. Paul Brent had met

AFTERNOON sunlight, glinting through the windows of Twindell's study, brought a sparkle from many

gems upon the broadtopped desk. Benjamin Twindell, a smile upon his dryish face, was alternately nodding

and shaking his head at prices offered for his wares. He was selling another portion of his jewel collection to

Prices settled, the purchasers gathered in the gems that they had bought. There were sapphires, emeralds, and

many other precious stones among the lot. Three witnesses, however, were interested in gems of a different

For the benefit of Commissioner Weston and Inspector Cardona, Lamont Cranston was pointing out the

different types of ruddy gems. He indicated the pigeon'sblood stones from Burma, the garnethued type of

By the time the sale was over and Twindell had gathered in the checks, both Weston and Cardona were

convinced of the fact that they had come here to prove: that Ryndon's ruby had once belonged to the Twindell

When the dealers had gone, Twindell had time to talk to his distinguished visitors. Weston showed him

"It was probably mine once," he affirmed, "but I have sold so many, how should I remember them? To me,

"Gems still intrigue me. But I shall purchase only those of historical importance, after I have disposed of

those which remain in my present collection. Meanwhile, I have found another interest."

He pointed to the mantel, where five Chinese dragons sat in a stately row. Though similar in size and shape,

each had distinctive features. Noting them, The Shadow picked out the one that Thorner had bought the night

"Those porcelain dragons," said Twindell, "belong to the period of Ch'ien Lung. They were designed by the

celebrated T'ang Ying, who had charge of the imperial porcelain factory at that time. T'ang Ying left several

treatises on the manufacture of porcelain, and in one of them he mentioned the seven dragons.

"Gentlemen" Twindell's eyes fairly gleamed with enthusiasm "I believe that I have acquired five of those

seven dragons! Should I find the other two, I shall be the only man in the world owning a complete series of

TWINDELL'S manner impressed two listeners, Weston and Cardona. To The Shadow, though he carried the

calm pose of Cranston, the collector's talk was froth. The Shadow was familiar with the treatises that

Twindell mentioned and knew of no reference to a series of seven dragons. Unquestionably, the objects on

With one proviso. Twindell's mention of the number, seven, indicated that he was cagily expressing a half

truth. Evidently, Twindell expected to have two more dragons later, and therefore had emphasized the

The Shadow hefted the dragons, at Twindell's suggestion. They were hollow, open at the bottom, and

therefore quite light. Remembering how Loo Look had thumped one dragon on the auction table, The

The old man gave a sharp cackle, fearing that the dragon had been injured. Seeing that it wasn't, he beamed

Casually, Weston asked Twindell if the fifth dragon had come from last night's auction. Twindell

acknowledged that it had. He said that his purchasing representative, Thorner, had bought it for him, and had

fortunately left the place before the trouble started. Today, Thorner was out of town seeking more curios, but

Twindell hardly dared hope that he would be lucky enough to uncover the sixth dragon.

"I believe that all are in this country," asserted Twindell, "but there will be no way of telling, until we have

That ended the questioning, though The Shadow would have liked to ask Twindell more. It was evident,

though the law did not suspect it, that Twindell was in some way connected with the mysterious master mind,

Shiwan Khan. Neither Weston nor Cardona had heard of Shiwan Khan, nor of Hoang Khu, for that matter,

though the police had found a few dead Mongols along with the deceased Loo Look.

Somewhere, somehow, Shiwan Khan, the unfathomable, might even now be plotting new crime. But The

Shadow, recognizing the mighty power of a foe who could keep his very existence veiled, considered the task

The Shadow's guess that Shiwan Khan's new machinations were under way was definitely correct. At the

very time when Commissioner Weston and his party were leaving Twindell's, Mitchell Dorron, a prominent

shipping man, was talking with two visitors in his office: Paul Brent and Guy Chadbury.

Mitchell was arranging for the freighter Aritoba to take on a cargo of Globe airplanes and motors, also a

shipment of blasting materials from Chadbury Enterprises. Both Brent and Chadbury were promising an

The reason was that each intended to await a message from the brain controlling the mysterious lights.

Without such approval, they could not finally commit themselves. Neither, of course, gave any inkling of the

THE conference in Dorron's office was the very type of event that The Shadow would have expected Shiwan

Khan to produce. The case of Twindell proved that Shiwan Khan dealt with persons of wealth and influence.

There was every indication that he either held a complete mistrust of crooks of the American variety, or had

In that surmise, The Shadow was placing too sharp a limit upon the activities of Shiwan Khan. Like The

Shadow, Shiwan Khan preferred to supply the unexpected. He was branching out along the line that The

Shadow had eliminated, and Shiwan Khan was making his preparations this very afternoon.

Among the socalled big shots in Manhattan, a crook named Flash Gidley could well have regarded himself

unique. Flash, dapper, suave of manner, was one crook who was willing to wait for certainties, rather than

Weeks at a time, Flash would sit about his sumptuous apartment, attended only by his lieutenant, Herk

Duvan, indifferent to many opportunities for crime that were phoned in by members of the mob. This

afternoon, Herk, a big and bulky rowdy who preferred strongarm work to strategy, was complaining about

"That theater job would be a pipe!" insisted Herb. "They bank a pile of dough every week. All we got to do is

"With a couple of cops outside the place?" purred Flash. "And about a thousand people inside, to get a look at

"And the dough I'm paying them is good! As long as I keep them on the pay roll, they've got no squawk. Sit

Thumbing the dials of a brandnew radio set, Flash listened intently to the news reports. He was interested in

the fact that a gentleman named Benjamin Twindell was disposing of rare jewels, in order to collect Chinese

dragons. Twindell, it happened, had willingly talked about his new hobby to reporters, who had called up

"Say, Flash!" he gruffed. "Maybe there's something in them dragons. If a guy collects them, they're worth

"Who ever heard of trying to fence a dragon?" snapped Flash. "Listen, Herk, if you want to put that

"Tell me who shipped us this nifty radio set. Some guy that's trying to suck in with us, I'll bet. Give it a

The radio set was an unusual one. It was large, and among its ornate features was one that Flash had never

seen before. Three lights were set above the dial. When a station was tuned in just right, a yellow light

glowed. A variation in one direction brought a green light; in the other, a red.

The set was faulty, though. If the yellow light glowed alone for more than half a minute, both the green and

the red would light up. After that, all three lights would flicker continually, in a manner that Flash said made

As the news bulletin ended, the three lights were busy with their flickering. Looking at Flash, Herk noted that

he was bowed close to the radio set. Flash was intent, though he could not possibly be hearing anything. Then

Mechanically reaching for a pencil, Flash began to scrawl something on a piece of paper. Herk stared in awe.

Suddenly, Flash jolted upward. He looked at the radio, then at Herk. As he shoved the switch, he saw the

"Am I nuts?" queried Flash, softly. "Or did I hear it? A voice a gong and this!" He tapped the paper. "If

Amazed, Herk reached for the paper. Flash shoved him aside, nudged toward the telephone.

"I must have heard a voice," murmured Flash to himself. "Anyway, this job is worth going after. The guy

means it" Flash crumpled the paper and dropped it in an ash tray, to burn it "because he even had me

IT was an hour later when Benjamin Twindell received a telephone call from Herbert Thorner. The

purchasing agent was back in town in response to a telegram that he thought Twindell had sent him. He gave

"You're to go there at nine o'clock?" asked Twindell. "Very well, Thorner." The old man gave one of his

cackles. "Perhaps you will find a dragon waiting for you. I expect another, very shortly."

There was not a shade of doubt in Twindell's mind. Thorner had received the telegram from Shiwan Khan.

But when Twindell stared at the study floor, his nerve almost left him. He thought he saw a long, streaky

The stretch of blackness faded while Twindell was reaching in the desk drawer for the silver casket that

Shiwan Khan had said would satisfy The Shadow. Twindell chuckled his relief. He thought his imagination

The blackness was real enough. It became a solid shape, descending Twindell's grand stairway. On the

ground floor The Shadow, a living figure, glided past Twindell's servants and made his exit by the side door.

Eyes from across the street had glimpsed The Shadow's fleeting shape. A grayclad form no longer remained

immobile. Entering a Mongoldriven cab, Shiwan Khan delivered a monotoned laugh as he rode away.

Tonight, the master who knew the mysteries of the East was confident that he would dispose of the only

IT was eight o'clock, and Beatrice Chadbury was looking at the lights. Only she wasn't Beatrice Chadbury;

she was Alice Haywood. The very thought made her laugh, because she knew that her name was not Alice

She was registered at this little hotel under the name of Alice Haywood, but that was because she was

wearing American clothes. Actually, she believed herself to be Lana Luan, and in her case, the lights that she

Beatrice Chadbury was completely under the control of Shiwan Khan. When the lights began their vivid

changes, they took her into a world that she had come to consider as her own. The lights belonged to a sign

When they changed, the lights made Chinese characters, and Beatrice could read them, which was one reason

why she felt sure she was Lana Luan. A message spelled itself as she watched. Calmly, Beatrice left the hotel

At the door of the Green Pagoda, the girl was greeted by the bowing Chinese proprietor, who conducted her

to a corner booth, set in an alcove near a large Buddha that rested on a high pedestal.

Beatrice did not remain in the corner booth very long. Reaching to a partition on the side toward the Buddha,

she slid back a panel. A dim stairway showed below, leading beneath the Buddha. Beatrice took that route,

After following a few twisty passages, the girl reached a stairway that had evidently belonged to an old

house. Walled in on both sides, it made a route to the second floor, above the Chinese restaurant. On that

This was her room, where she became Lana Luan. The place had a table, two chairs, a wall mirror, and a

curtained closet. Drawing back the curtain, Beatrice gave a happy sigh as she saw her costume of thick silk

pajamas, short kimono of peacock and poppy pattern, along with a pair of soft, dark Chinese slippers.

Rapidly disrobing, she flung her American clothes disdainfully upon the nearer chair. Sliding into the

Chinese costume, she smiled at herself in the mirror. These clothes were comfortable; they seemed a part of

The change was really remarkable. When she entered the room, Beatrice had looked decidedly American.

When undressed, her figure had shown entirely white. But the moment that her new attire covered her sleek

It was the effect of the costume's pattern. Even in dress design, Shiwan Khan could work deception upon

observers. One glance at Beatrice's exotic costume marked her as Chinese; from then on, anyone who saw her

looked for Oriental traces in her features. With dark hair and eyes, long lashes, and pursed, ruddy lips,

The pajamas had long sleeves and legs. Her hands were only half visible, her ankles not at all. Thus, chance

traces of whiteness were eliminated, and in Paul's case, an added element had strengthened the Chinese

appearance of Lana Luan. He had met the girl in a room illuminated only by a greenish light, which had

LEAVING her Chinese boudoir, Beatrice stole along a short passage, passed a spiral stairway and came to a

golden door. It opened as she stretched her hand. Shiwan Khan was waiting on the threshold of the golden

Smileless, Shiwan Khan presented the girl with a porcelain dragon. As she clutched the object weightily in

"Enter the house where the driver takes you. Give the dragon to a man named Herbert Thorner. When he has

Beatrice nodded. Shiwan Khan pointed her back along the passage. She descended the usual stairway to the

level of the restaurant; but, instead of returning to the booth, she opened a panel that led to a service exit. She

Stepping into a cab driven by one of Shiwan Khan's Mongols, Beatrice paid no further attention to her

The Mongol strained his eyes toward the rear alleyway leading to a darkened house; then, catching a signal,

In the gloom at the rear crouched Mongols who were listening to the whispers of Hoang Khu and another,

called Shan Juchi. Between them, they were dividing their forces. Hoang Khu was posting men outside the

Motionless as they guarded the empty building, the Mongols showed training ordered by Shiwan Khan. Like

human statues, they had rendered themselves unnoticeable in the darkness. The path that they left open was

From his post in the rear passage, Hoang Khu saw another cab stop, watched a man alight and come slowly

through. The arrival was Thorner. As the man passed, Hoang Khu looked toward the house, then let his gaze

As Shiwan Khan had planned it, Thorner was going to enter that house and leave it, unmolested. But for

On the front street, Beatrice Chadbury was stealing up the gloomy front steps, visible to another band of

watchers. As the girl opened the front door, Flash Gidley spoke to mobbies about him:

"Two of you lugs come along with me and Herk. The rest of you spread out and be ready with the wheelers,

when we lam. No gats, unless the going gets tough. You'll know when to pull the rods, if you need them."

Posting the two men just inside the front door, Flash led Herk through a moldy parlor filled with old

furniture. They came to a curtain, a dim light glowing beyond it. Herk wanted to hold back, but Flash pulled

They looked into a barren room, illuminated by a single light. The only article of furnishing was a battered

brass gong that hung inside another doorway, leading to a downward stairs. On the other side of the room was

Beatrice was standing in the center of the little room, the dragon nestling deep in her arms. Her eyes had a

"Say!" gulped Herk. "The dame's a Chinee! I didn't know that when she ankled in here."

"She's no Chinee," undertoned Flash. "She only thinks she is. Her uncle is worth plenty! He's worried about

where she is, but he's scared to squawk to the Feds. He figures something may really happen to her if he

"Yeah, and more. See that dragon the dame's got? It's one of the bunch you were talking about. We don't

want it. The dame is going to give it to a guy, and he can have it. We're going to grab the doll, after she's

"Fifty grand! On the line! He'll pay and why not? He don't even know what's become of her. The trouble

with the snatch racket is staging the snatch itself. This case is different. It's been done for us."

JUST as Herk was about to voice agreement, the two heard creeping footsteps from the lower stairs.

Shouldering into the light came Herbert Thorner, his shoulder grazing the brass gong. Herk inquired who he

"He's here for the dragon," whispered the big shot, "and he thinks the doll's a Chinee. Which suits me.

In the slow tone of Lana Luan, they heard Beatrice inquire the arrival's name. Thorner answered, not loud

enough for them to hear, and the girl gave him the dragon. Another figure had appeared from the lower

The "big guy" was Shan Juchi. Watching the interview between Beatrice and Thorner, the Mongol was

"He's a stooge," Flash told Herk. "He's here to wake up Sleeping Beauty. Give him time."

Thorner had stowed the dragon half beneath his coat. He was not returning by the lower stairs; instead, he

crossed the room and took the steps to the upper floor. Beatrice was watching his departure; half turned, she

The stage was set exactly as Shiwan Khan had planned it. Shan Juchi had actually raised the hammer for the

gong stroke, when a wild shout came from the upper stairs. Following his own shriek, Thorner dived into

sight, tripped, and rolled toward the lower stairway, clinging tenaciously to the dragon.

Flipping the gong hammer to his other hand, Shan Juchi whipped out a knife. Slashing aside the curtain,

Flash Gidley yanked a revolver from his pocket, a move that Herk Duvan instantly copied.

Yet, with all their speed, none of the trio was fast enough to stave off the threat that sprang from the same

stairway that Thorner had so frantically rejected as an outlet. It was a living threat, in black.

Instead of the gong stroke, a mocking laugh quivered through the room. Uttered by hidden lips beneath a

downturned hat brim, that mirth was accompanied by the forward shove of a gun muzzle, thrust by a gloved

Wheeling to the very center of the room, the living blackness became a cloaked shape, ready to combat a

horde of foemen. Small wonder, for this conqueror of crime had outguessed the measures planned by Shiwan

Suspecting the Mongol trap in back, noting the crew of thugs in front. The Shadow had chosen the house roof

for his entry. By that stratagem, he had blocked Thorner's escape with the dragon, and had arrived in time to

Finally, he had reached a focal spot from which he could hold off two dangerous bands of foemen. In the

very heart of the enemy's present domain, The Shadow had raised his challenge to battle!

THOUGH Thorner, in his inarticulate way, had shouted an alarm, The Shadow was so close behind the

frantic man that no one expected the cloaked fighter until they saw him. Which amounted to the fact that The

Shadow's enemies were not ready for all that came their way, whereas the blackclad invader was prepared

Whirling into view, The Shadow sized matters in a glance. Thorner was out of it, for the fellow's only thought

was to save the precious dragon and leave the battle to others. Beatrice's halfdazed stare told that she was no

The girl who called herself Lana Luan was standing in harm's way. Getting her out of it was one of The

The Shadow saw Shan Juchi starting a swing with the knife. He saw the whipping curtain; beyond it, the

glitter of guns. But he picked Shan Juchi as his first antagonist, rather than the gunners in the other room. The

A stabbing bullet caught Shan Juchi as the Mongol hurled the knife. The blade skimmed the ceiling above

The Shadow's head. Shan Juchi was lunging for that whirl in the center of the room. The Shadow spun in

reverse so suddenly, that he was away from the path of fire when Flash and Herk let their guns blast.

Shan Juchi was staggering through the space where the bullets had whined. Bewildered, Flash and Herk

could not understand how The Shadow had reversed his course so suddenly, considering the speed of his

The Shadow's free arm had encircled the girl, as he stabbed that shot at Shan Juchi. Her weight had halted his

charge sufficiently for him to wheel instantly in the opposite direction and carry her along.

Though they wanted to capture Beatrice, the crooks preferred to get The Shadow, no matter what the cost.

Again, they fired together, but before they tugged their triggers, the whirling blackness split. Herk saw a

figure pitch headlong into a front corner of the room. Swinging through the doorway, he took aim at

FLASH gave a yell. He had recognized the flying form. He was looking for The Shadow, instead of the girl,

and for a half second Flash was utterly baffled. Literally, The Shadow had vanished from the center of the

Then Flash's quick eye had seen Shan Juchi reeling backward. In the dimness of the room, Flash could not

see The Shadow just beyond. But he realized that the cloaked fighter had grabbed the giant Mongol as a

That gun had swung straight for Herk. It wasn't Flash's yell that saved the lieutenant. The curtain performed

the rescue, as Herk tripped over it while taking aim at Beatrice. A gun boomed: The Shadow's. A bullet

The timely shot was proof that The Shadow would have dropped Herk before the latter could have fired at

Beatrice. The Shadow intended to dispatch another bullet in Herk's direction, to prevent the fellow from using

his gun at all. But there was time in between to halt Flash at the doorway. The Shadow jabbed a quick shot

Flash was gone. With his yell, he had dived for safety. He was at an angle where The Shadow could not reach

him; in turn, Flash had no chance to shoot at anyone. But his gun was ready, and he used it, on the only target

The bulb shattered. From the instant darkness came a weird laugh smothering the echoes of Flash's

wellaimed shot. The crook had simply saved The Shadow trouble. The cloaked fighter had intended to

Flash saw the reflection of a gunburst from deep in the other room. He thought that Herk was through. A

moment later, the lucky lieutenant flopped beside him, uninjured. Half wrapped in the curtain, Herk had

The thugs from the front door were on hand with revolvers and flashlights. Their arrival told that more were

Not having witnessed The Shadow's deadly fire, the two thugs took the chance that Flash was anxious to

avoid. At the doorway, they halted, staring at the scene their flashlights showed. Wild yells from the other

A squad of Mongols had bobbed up from the lower stairway. The crooks had seen The Shadow launch

himself into that throng with one tremendous dive. There wasn't a chance for thugs to aim. The Shadow was

There were sounds of a clash between sledging automatics and swinging knives, but The Shadow was

Viewing the whole room, Flash saw Thorner crawling for the passage to the upper stairway. Trampled by the

arriving Mongols, Thorner had managed to protect the Ch'ien Lung dragon, and was taking the trophy with

Beatrice was lying motionless in her corner. She had struck the wall heavily, and the blow had stunned her.

The fault was not The Shadow's. He had expected the girl to thrust her hands before her as she hit the wall.

But dazed conditions, when induced by Shiwan Khan's hypnotic lights, were by no means ordinary. The

selfstyled Lana Luan had been living in a dream world. Her whirling trip toward the wall had seemed

pleasant, with no need for worry. She had scarcely felt the blow that crumpled her.

Mortally wounded, the big Mongol was concerned only with a final effort that would complete a duty ordered

by Shiwan Khan. Close to the doorway, where The Shadow had dropped his human shield, Shan Juchi had

found the gong hammer. He was raising it slowly, painfully, as he tried to rise against the wall.

His hand, wavering backward, reached the gong level. Shan Juchi gave a slash that carried his tottering body

forward. The hammer met the gong, clanged it with a force that startled all who heard it. The room seemed to

Huddling to the floor, Shan Juchi raised his head. With the last echo from the clashing gong, he babbled:

ODDLY, the hammer stroke seemed to have banished tumult below. Perhaps the other Mongols, hearing the

brassy sound, had felt their work accomplished and were choosing flight, instead of further battle with The

They had certainly heard the cry of Shan Juchi, and would carry word to Shiwan Khan that he had fulfilled

his mission with the gong. In dying, Shan Juchi failed to realize that the stroke of the gong had been unheard

He lay silent, stiff, Shan Juchi; and it suddenly occurred to Flash Gidley that other Mongols might have fared

From below, Flash caught new sounds: the faint, muffled shots of a revolver; vague howls, with the clatter of

running feet; finally, the weird shiver of an echoing laugh, too much like the mockery of The Shadow!

Two more thugs had arrived. Flash pointed all four toward the lower stairway. Springing to the corner of the

room, he lifted Beatrice, shoved her limp form into Herk's arms. The big lieutenant was looking at Thorner,

"Forget that guy!" snapped Flash. "I told you we didn't want the dragon. We've got the dame "

A roar came from the lower stairs. Guns blasted with the force of a cannonade. The Shadow's automatics

were recognizable when they began the fire; they kept up their staccato punches amid the wild, disjointed

Flash's trouble shooters had found trouble that had shot them up instead. Trouble in the person of The

Shadow. Thuds and howls told that crippled mobbies were tumbling down the stairs, while a strident laugh,

Flash headed out to the front. He was away from the sweep of the flashlight that The Shadow flicked from the

lower stairs. The Shadow spied two men starting a mad race for safety. Each was carrying a valued prize.

One was Thorner. Stirred with wild desire for flight, he was taking to the upper stairway, clinging to the

Ch'ien Lung dragon. The other was Herk; he was following Flash. Across Herk's shoulder, The Shadow

caught a glimpse of a girl's face, far paler than the usual countenance that represented Lana Luan.

Choice of pursuit lay with The Shadow. Overtaking Thorner would be a certainty, the capture of the dragon

included. From such a chase, The Shadow would obtain the very reward that he had come to claim.

Following Herk meant new battle against risky odds, with only a slight chance of rescuing an unknown girl

The flashlight blackened. Through the solid gloom of that barren room where Shan Juchi lay dead beneath

the brazen gong, there came the tone of a sibilant, whispered laugh. A few moments later the sound, like its

His trail chosen. The Shadow was on his way. Whether he was seeking the sixth dragon or the captive girl,

his laugh did not proclaim. Even Shiwan Khan could not have guessed The Shadow's choice, had the master

The path that the cloaked fighter had taken in the gloom was known to one person alone:

OUTSIDE the deserted house, Flash Gidley made quick plans for a getaway. He shoved Herk Duvan toward

the nearest car, an old sedan, that had another mobbie occupying it. The man hopped out to help Herk put the

Reaching a car across the street, Flash quickly pointed a pair of thugs to the steps of the old house. Crouching

on each side of the front doorway, they waited for The Shadow to appear, provided he was coming this

By the time that motors were throbbing, there had been no sign of The Shadow. Flash, swinging his own car

about, provided the glare of headlights on the house steps; for an instant, he sighted what looked like a

Then, Flash was seeing other shifting shadows, produced by the swing of the car. Those distorted patches

were proof enough that Flash hadn't seen The Shadow, particularly when the men from the doorway,

clambering into the car, reported that they had heard no one pass them on the steps.

Herk's sedan was already started further evidence that The Shadow was taking the trail of the dragon

instead of trying to trace the girl. Passing the sedan, Flash saw Herk at the wheel and signaled him to fall

behind. A third car was joining the procession, manned by a reserve squad. The safe bet was to keep Herk in

Glancing over his shoulder, Flash noted the roof of the old house. No gunshots were sounding there, but

Flash hardly expected any. Though he didn't know who Thorner was, Flash had seen enough of the fellow to

Thorner was the type who might lie in wait and bag his man; but once in flight, he certainly would not stop.

When The Shadow overtook him, Thorner would simply hand over the dragon and beg for life.

Meanwhile, Flash and his caravan were having what they considered an easy getaway, until they reached the

corner. There, a coupe suddenly cut in front of Flash's car and forced it to the curb. Flash snapped an order to

But there was no one in it when the barrage hit. The occupants, springing from the far door, had joined

Flash and his mob were meeting The Shadow's agents, and finding them a tough squad to battle. In the midst

of gunfire, Flash yelled at Herk, who sped away in his sedan. The third car wheeled up, its gunners raking the

The Shadow's agents were gone. They had done what their chief had ordered. He had told them to slow the

escape of the mob, and leave the rest to the police. Sounds of shooting in the old house had been reported;

Managing to get their cars started, Flash and his mobbies were driving right into trouble, enough to keep

them busy. The Shadow's agents, abandoning the old coupe that they had sacrificed, were heading toward

REACHING the rear street, they saw a frantic man come tearing from the back of another house. It was

Thorner; he had fled across the rooftops and taken a route to the street. He had the porcelain dragon with him,

His goal was a taxicab parked under a street lamp, where he could see it. At the wheel sat a Mongol driver.

Before The Shadow's agents could intercept the cab, shots greeted them from the passage behind the deserted

house. Hoang Khu and his Mongols were still on the loose, amplified by a few of Shan Juchi's crew, who had

Fortunately, the Mongols did not handle guns as well as knives. Dropping away from the poorly aimed

barrage, The Shadow's agents suffered no casualties. In their turn, they began to pepper Hoang Khu and his

The cab got away, while The Shadow's men were taking shelter. But they routed the Mongols so rapidly that

another cab was able to wheel in pursuit. Moe Shrevnitz was driving the second cab, and he was tailing the

Though he heard no words from the rear seat, Moe had an idea that he was carrying a blackcloaked

passenger. Generally, when Moe took up an important chase, The Shadow entered the cab when it started.

Thanks to the delaying gunfire, The Shadow could easily have reached the street before Moe started.

The trail led exactly where Moe expected: to Twindell's mansion. There, Thorner hopped from the other cab,

which promptly shot away. Moe saw Thorner run for the side door, which evidently opened to receive him.

Parked close to the mansion, Moe looked into the rear of his own cab. It was empty.

Grinning, Moe decided that The Shadow had dropped off and followed Thorner to the gloomy side of the

large house. Thorner had carried the dragon during that final dash; perhaps, by this time, gloved hands had

However, Moe was not supposed to wait here. His job was to get back to where the chase had started and

help The Shadow's agents to clear the neighborhood. After that, he could report to Burbank.

Meanwhile, Herk Duvan had completed a roundabout trip to a disreputable neighborhood far from the scene

of battle. Parking the old sedan in the depths of a blind alley, Herk turned to the mobbie who rode with him.

"So what?" demanded Herk. "That was the way Flash wanted it. He gave me the high sign, so we could get

"He'll shake 'em," interposed Herk, in confident tone. "Leave that to Flash. C'mon! Let's lug the dame up to

They could see Beatrice's pale face in the darkened rear of the sedan. Opening the door on the right of the car,

they drew the girl out and carried her between them, through a groundlevel door, down a short flight of

"She slid out easy," commented Herk, "but she seems heavier, now that we're lugging her. Cripes! I hope she

"She ain't no Chinee," returned Herk. "She's an American, and it's her uncle has got the dough. Flash didn't

They were in a squarish stonewalled room, where Herk turned on a hanging light. They placed Beatrice on a

rickety cot; and Brodie, noting the whiteness of her face, gave a nod that disposed of the Chinese theory.

"Get out and bolt the door," he told Brodie, "while I find out if there's any life in her. Maybe we'll need a

A SHARP snarl from Brodie ended Herk's remark. Swinging about. Herk saw his companion thrusting a

quickdrawn gun straight toward the door. He was fast with a rod, Brodie was, as fast as any member of the

Brodie's hand was snakelike. It seemed to uncoil and whip in with the gun all in one action, that usually

ended with a trigger tug. There was a muffled report close to Brodie's body, but the revolver did not blast the

shot. As Herk sprang from beside the couch, pulling his own revolver, Brodie's figure sagged.

Through a drift of grayish smoke, that floated from an automatic muzzle, Herk saw a cloaked figure in the

doorway. Burning eyes were fixed upon the gang lieutenant. So was the muzzle of the automatic; the same

Herk heard a whispered laugh: The Shadow's. A revolver clanked the floor, as Herk's hands lifted.

The last thing that Herk Duvan expected was mercy from The Shadow. But Herk received it, for a price. A

passenger during the trip, The Shadow had overheard all that Herk said to Brodie.

"You will return to Flash," The Shadow told Herk, "and tell him that the girl is here, being watched by

"Once you have told that story" The Shadow's tone was sibilant "you will be safe! It is your only story!

Flash would not be pleased if he learned that you turned yellow" a whispered laugh taunted Herk's ears

With a quick sweep, The Shadow gathered Herk's revolver from the floor. Cracking it open, he shook out the

cartridges. He handed it to Herk, made him turn around. Finding the crook's reserve ammunition, The

Marching Herk out to the car, The Shadow forced him to get behind the wheel. Waiting at the mouth of the

alley, he beckoned for Herk to start. The sedan rolled past and kept going. Herk Duvan did not intend to stop

Rapidly returning to the hideaway, The Shadow gathered up the feebly stirring form of Beatrice Chadbury.

Stepping across the dead form of Brodie, the cloaked avenger again reached the darkness of the alley and

The Shadow had gained the prize he wanted. He had followed the path of the girl, not the trail of the dragon!

BEATRICE CHADBURY awakened. It was daylight and she was in a little bedroom, quite different from the

hotel room where she had recently stopped. This room looked as if it belonged in a hospital. In fact, it could

have been termed a hospital room, for it was connected with the offices of Dr. Rupert Sayre, a young Park

The surroundings did not trouble Beatrice. She was still indifferent to such matters. Her life was still the

halftrance that Shiwan Khan had produced. Failure to hear Shan Juchi's gong stroke had kept Beatrice in

She was tired, though, and her head ached. So she decided to remain in bed, as she had frequently done,

during recent days, until lights began to blink outside the window. Beatrice did not stop to reason that the

window might not offer the accustomed view of the Chinese restaurant called the Green Pagoda.

As she leaned her head back against the pillows, Beatrice saw her clothes fixed neatly upon a chair. Sight of

the colorful Chinese costume brought eagerness to her eyes. Getting out of bed, the girl slid from the nightie

Dressed in the silken garments, Beatrice gave the rippling laugh of Lana Luan. Opening the door, she walked

into a passage, followed it until she came to an office. A whitejacketed man looked up from his desk; his

face showed a serious expression. Dr. Sayre pressed a desk button, to bring the nurse.

She couldn't finish the sentence. Nothing prompted her. Without the inspiring action of another brain,

Beatrice had no thoughts of her own, except the memory of lights that shone at dusk. The nurse arrived, and

Nothing impelled Beatrice to object. When she reached the hospital room, she let the nurse undress her. But

when she realized that she was in bed again, wearing the night dress, she reached for the Chinese clothes that

were over the nurse's arm. The nurse left immediately, taking the garments with her.

"These were the trouble," she told Sayre, as she hung the clothes in the office closet. "She saw them, and

"Lana Luan?" repeated Sayre, thoughtfully. "I must make a note of that name, to tell Cranston when he

WHEN Lamont Cranston reached Sayre's office, a halfhour later, he was quite interested in the physician's

report. Sayre repeated the girl's unfinished sentence. When Sayre expressed the opinion that Beatrice's

"Quite right," he said. "She is controlled by a powerful brain, upon which she depends for all complex

It didn't surprise Sayre. He had delved into the subject of telepathy himself. But he doubted that the influence

"I have studied the tests conducted at various colleges," said Sayre, "and while they prove telepathy to be a

fact, they show that it works only at irregular intervals, even when the subjects are hypnotized."

"Let us review the facts of hypnotism," suggested The Shadow. "The first man to demonstrate it properly was

Mesmer. His basic method was to gaze into the subject's eyes and thus command a fixed attention. But

Mesmer, despite his results, was denounced as a quack and his findings rejected."

"For many years," agreed Sayre, "until Braid again discovered hypnotism. When Braid proved that trance

could be induced by gazing at a fixed object, such as a bright light, no one could doubt that hypnotism was a

"Why, yes. It stood to reason that he had been able to make people obey his spoken commands, as any

"But Mesmer claimed more than that. At times, he controlled his subjects mentally, without speaking to them.

We cannot fairly reject that claim, if we accept the rest. Instead, we must look for the reason behind Mesmer's

"The answer may be termed mutual hypnotism. Mesmer's eyes were the bright objects that hypnotized the

subject. In his turn, Mesmer was staring into the subject's eyes. Fully concentrated, he became partly

The facts startled Sayre. He had always considered mesmerism and hypnotism as identical in result, differing

merely in method of procedure. The logic of The Shadow's statements gave the case a new status.

"A man who calls himself Shiwan Khan is putting that system into practice," declared The Shadow. "He is

using lights to fix their attention, a gong stroke to break the trance. The mental commands of Shiwan Khan

"It seems obvious, therefore, that Shiwan Khan must gaze into an identical light, whenever he hypnotizes a

subject. In that way, he could induce a mutual state of hypnotism, perhaps to a degree exceeding ordinary

Sayre asked about the lights. The Shadow described the green bulb that he had seen at Ryndon's. He

mentioned the gong note on the phonograph record. He then produced a small metal gong and hammer, and

"Have the nurse take those Chinese clothes into the other room," he suggested. "We shall let the girl resume

the part of Lana Luan, the false personality that Shiwan Khan has built for her."

SEVERAL minutes later, Beatrice Chadbury entered wearing the colorful clothes and blank expression of

Lana Luan. She repeated her statement of identity; when she halted, The Shadow announced in a slow,

A change flickered over the girl's features, but she seemed to note an oddity in the voice. Then The Shadow

was approaching her; she was gazing into burning eyes that held her full attention. Beatrice was gripped by

"I am Shiwan Khan," repeated The Shadow. "When I speak, you hear. Wherever you may be!"

Beatrice halted. Long in that automatic trance, she could carry her memory no further. The matter of the

lights was implanted upon her brain; the rest had been erased. Both results were the design of Shiwan Khan.

He had forced the girl's mind to retain the first details of her journey. The rest came back when she had

Even the effort that she had displayed was a strain for the girl's dazed mind. She wavered; The Shadow

caught her instantly and let her settle in the waiting arms of Sayre. Seizing the hammer and gong, he gave the

needed stroke. Sayre could feel the sudden convulsion that quivered Beatrice from head to foot.

Then, the blank expression fading from her face, the girl stared about in genuine bewilderment. She looked at

Cranston's face as though she had never before seen it. The Shadow's eyes had lost their burn. They had a

With Cranston's calmness, The Shadow explained that she was in New York; that she had met with an

accident while attending a masquerade. All that amazed Beatrice as she listened, weakly, from a chair where

Sayre had placed her. She began to explain that she was supposed to be on a cruise ship. The effort taxed her.

"Anyway, my name is Beatrice Chadbury. My uncle is here in New York. His name is, Guy Chadbury. I

Her eyes went shut. Those days of living in a trance had produced a complete nervous exhaustion. Sayre

No longer walking with the slow stride of Lana Luan, Beatrice shuffled her slippered feet wearily toward the

bedroom. She sighed gratefully when the nurse undressed her. Beatrice was glad to be free of those thick silk

During the last few minutes that she wore them, the clothes of Lana Luan seemed to be dragging Beatrice

back into some horrible, nameless past, that could never have been part of her real existence. Unclothed, she

felt the terror leave her. In bed, she sighed again, and fell asleep while the nurse was lowering the window

In the office, Dr. Sayre was congratulating his friend Cranston upon the remarkable results that he had

"You may depend upon me to notify Guy Chadbury that his niece is here. I shall, of course, use my own

discretion in the matter. It may be preferable to wait until we can give a satisfactory report upon her

Dr. Sayre agreed. He knew the meaning of what Cranston termed discretion. Sayre had long recognized a

connection between Lamont Cranston and The Shadow. If news of Beatrice's rescue should be withheld from

Nothing should be done to obstruct a coming event that Dr. Sayre could foresee: a duel wherein a plotter

TWO days had passed strange days for The Shadow! In all his dealings with master criminals, he had never

The Shadow knew of Shiwan Khan's existence; that was all. The rest depended upon sheer reason, but not of

a deductive sort. It was necessary for The Shadow to build a theory, test it with every fact, yet even then

A slender link began the chain. It started with the fact that a murdered stunt flier named Bob Ryndon had

The Shadow knew that territory, its present state of unrest. He could see deep causes behind the trouble in

Sinkiang, at a time when all China was supposed to be united. Between Tibet, the land of brain, and

There was proof that they had been united through the effort of Shiwan Khan. His power was that of mind, as

he had demonstrated; his followers, fierce Mongols, were men of muscle. Behind that combination lay

Even The Shadow, a few weeks ago, would have considered such a scheme fantastic. But in this strange

campaign, the seemingly unreal was plausible. Things that others would regard as unimportant were solid

links, welded in The Shadow's chain of evidence. One was the cry of the dying Mongol, Shan Juchi, which

The name "Shiwan Khan" alone meant little. Coupled with the term "Kha Khan," it meant much. The title by

which Shiwan Khan's Mongols knew their master was the same used by Genghis Khan, greater conqueror of

In days of old, Genghis Khan had conquered empires by superior military measures. In this modern age, such

a result could be accomplished only by presentday preparations. To bring an invisible kingdom into reality,

Shiwan Khan would need munitions. Another link that fitted into The Shadow's chain!

Shiwan Khan's control of Beatrice Chadbury, the temporary Lana Luan, was proof that his machinations

concerned her uncle, Guy Chadbury, the one man The Shadow had been studying Chadbury's case who

Through Harry Vincent, The Shadow had been carefully seeking facts regarding Chadbury; so far, without

result. The trouble was that Chadbury was king man with his own enterprises; it was difficult to check his

Obviously, there would be other implements required by Shiwan Khan: airplanes, for one. Unfortunately,

Beatrice had not met Paul Brent during her waking life, hence she had not supplied a clue to Globe Aircraft.

As for the matter of shipments, The Shadow had considered that phase of the question. Through the

investment office managed by Rutledge Mann, he had acquired reams of data pertaining to international

shipping companies. None had shown a flaw in the affairs of the Tropical Export Lines, managed by Mitchell

WHILE keeping tabs on Chadbury, The Shadow had not forgotten other persons who were definitely hand in

glove with Shiwan Khan. There were three: Flash Gidley, Benjamin Twindell and Herbert Thorner. It was

Flash was serving Shiwan Khan on the promise of collecting fifty thousand dollars from Guy Chadbury for

the safe return of the latter's niece, Beatrice. That indicated Chadbury to be as honest as Flash was crooked.

Beatrice was already safe, in The Shadow's custody. Flash Gidley hadn't guessed it, because his lieutenant,

Herk Duvan, was afraid to tell him. With Hawkeye watching the hideaway where Beatrice was supposed to

be a prisoner, The Shadow would learn immediately if Herk spilled facts. But Herk probably wouldn't.

Having doublecrossed Flash, Herk's only game was to play ball with The Shadow. It was an axiom in the

Herk had gone straight under pressure, of course, but that did not change his new status. He would

remember and know that The Shadow would not let him down, provided he adhered to his present policy.

Benjamin Twindell was a different proposition. It was easy to understand how Shiwan Khan was using him.

Twindell was serving as a "front" for the purchase of munitions and airplanes, probably supplying cash

through various wellcovered channels. In return, Twindell was receiving porcelain dragons, which, for some

Of all persons, Twindell was the one that Shiwan Khan would watch most closely. Close to Twindell,

however, was another person, who might be overlooked. That man was Herbert Thorner. Whatever profit he

might gain would come from Twindell, not from Shiwan Khan. Like Herk, Thorner offered real possibilities.

That fact explained why The Shadow's complete review of the Shiwan Khan intrigue took place in a

limousine bound for Twindell's mansion. Trusting to his guise of Cranston, The Shadow was visiting another

The Shadow was not disappointed. Thorner was on hand. The police had not connected him with a crazy

fight in an empty house, where they had discovered dead and crippled mobbies and Mongols, along with a

While he watched the jewel sale, Thorner occasionally glanced toward Twindell's mantel, where six squatty

porcelain dragons formed a grinning row. Just after one of those offguard glances, Thorner happened to

When the sale had ended and the visitors were gone, Benjamin Twindell cackled pleasantly as he thumbed a

pile of checks. His total sale from the jewels amounted to many thousands of dollars. Since Thorner was

available, Twindell gave him the checks and told him to take them to various banks.

Twindell added other instructions that Thorner accepted as quite ordinary, until he was on his way to make

the rounds. Riding in a cab, he happened to notice that Cranston's limousine was following him. It kept on the

At one bank, where Thorner paid a visit to the cashier's office, the sallow man was sure that he saw Cranston

watching from near a teller's window. From then on, Thorner plotted a cute move of his own. He tried it

Thrusting a bill into the cab driver's hand, Thorner told him to speed away. Ducking into another cab,

Thorner trailed the limousine. The big car lost the trail of the speedy cab, and finally took a different course.

It stopped on Twentythird Street, where Cranston alighted near an ancient office building.

The limousine did not wait. Leaving his cab, Thorner stole into the building. He trailed Cranston up a

He noted a short passage, with an office at the end of it, the only place where Cranston could have gone. That

was all Thorner wanted to know. Smiling shrewdly, the sallow man stole down the stairway and out to the

IN a more modern office building, two visitors were seated in a private office connected with the Tropical

Export Lines. Both looked glum, although Mitchell Dorron was smiling from the other side of his big desk.

"The Globe shipment has gone aboard the Aritoba. Mr. Chadbury's shipment is waiting to be loaded, so that

Looking toward Guy Chadbury, Paul Brent saw a hopeful expression come over the munitions magnate's

"I am still waiting a payment for my materials," said Chadbury. "I am afraid, Dorron, that you will have to

There was an interruption, as Dorron's secretary entered bringing an envelope that had been forwarded from

Chadbury's office. Opening it, Chadbury drew out a check. It was from a company that he had never heard of,

but that did not matter. The check was certified by the cashier of a large New York bank.

Chadbury grimaced, as he thrust the check into his pocket, he told Dorron that the loading of the Aritoba

could be resumed. With bowed head, Chadbury left the office. At the elevators, Paul Brent overtook him.

"I've got to talk to you, Mr. Chadbury!" exclaimed Paul, eagerly. "We're in the same mess! I just realized it,

Chadbury caught the earnestness in Paul's tone. Tightening his lips, the grayhaired man nodded, then said:

Back in his private office, Mitchell Dorron was pacing the floor, worried. He had noticed Paul's look at

Chadbury. Staring toward the ceiling, Dorron watched three lights, fixed exactly like the ones in the living

Suddenly, those three lights gleamed, pressed by a distant switch. To Dorron's blanking brain came the

faraway tone of Shiwan Khan. Dorron began to speak in answer, steadily but anxiously.

In the outside dusk, Harry Vincent had seen Paul Brent enter a large limousine with Guy Chadbury. Trailing

in Moe's cab, Harry followed the big car to an apartment house, saw the two get out together. Paul was

Who Chadbury's friend was, Harry did not know, but he had come from a shipping office that Chadbury had

Word was going to The Shadow. Word that might mean the turning point in the long struggle to frustrate

THE radio program had ended, but Flash Gidley was still staring at the dial. He liked those little lights

green, yellow, red that blinked with a pulsating throb. Herk Duvan, watching nervously, could hear Flash's

Herk always kept far enough away so the lights would not get him. While he watched, he worried about

questions that Flash might ask later. One came soon after Flash finally swung about, no longer fascinated by

"Nothin' much," returned Herk. "Everythin's jake, Flash, just like it always was."

Flash leaned back in his chair, quite satisfied. He nudged his thumb toward the telephone.

"What for, Flash " Herk tried to curb the anxiety in his tone. Then, hopefully: "Another job?"

"No. The same one. Tonight we collect. Have a couple go over and case the apartment house where Guy

"The dame's uncle," replied Flash, with a grin. "Her name is Beatrice Chadbury. The reason why I told you

not to worry about asking her to spill her name, was because I knew it all along."

Two facts were proven by Flash's statement. One: that he had not understood Shan Juchi's real purpose in

striking the big gong in the deserted house. The other: that Herk had successfully managed to keep Flash

QUITE unaware that he might soon be receiving visitors, Guy Chadbury was finishing a long discussion with

Paul Brent. They had dined together at the penthouse, following dinner, they had finally come out with their

Each found it impossible to recall the name of Shiwan Khan, but when Paul described the lights outside his

hotel room window, Chadbury promptly pointed out the large cigarette sign that had started him on the road

"It looks like we'll sink together," declared Paul glumly. "I can't trust my story to anyone else, Chadbury.

You're the only man who has been through the same sort of experience. The moment I open my mouth, I'll be

"I'm ready to talk, though," declared Paul, grimly. "At least, it would stop those shipments. It seems more

sensible, however, to wait a few days more. Something might turn up to help us. In that case, we could have

"Wait, by all means!" insisted Chadbury. "A move on your part would be as serious as one on mine! We can't

Stepping to the corner, Chadbury brought out Beatrice's photograph, showed it to Paul with the simple

To Paul, the gown that the pictured girl was wearing seemed to transform itself into a Chinese jacket.

"It's Lana Luan!" he exclaimed. "The girl I met at Ryndon's! She must have looked at lights the way we did!

Paul did not finish. Chadbury was staring off through the window. His eyes were fixed on the changed

glimmers of the cigarette sign. Quickly, Paul flung his arm across his own face.

He did not intend to feel that same influence that had again gripped Chadbury. He was listening, though,

The forced voice of Chadbury gave Paul a missing recollection as vivid as a lightning flash.

That was the name of the hidden master who made all obey his dictates. Hearing it while in a waking

condition, Paul intended to remember the name. While he repeated it in undertone, he heard more words from

Chadbury. The entranced man was speaking of his niece, and Paul caught his final response:

Chadbury's shoulders jarred. He had heard the stroke of the distant gong. He blinked at Paul, then asked:

Paul repeated it. Chadbury had the same electric effect at mention of the name Shiwan Khan. Then, when

Paul had barely finished with the remaining details, they heard the telephone bell.

Chadbury's secretary was out, so the munitions man answered the call himself. When finished, he let the

"They're here!" Chadbury bit the words. "To get the fifty thousand! Some racketeer, and probably a crowd

"He mentioned Shiwan Khan. They're coming up, and if I don't have the door open when they get here, they'll

HURRYING through a darkened outer room, Chadbury had the door open when his visitors arrived. Leaving

two thugs near the elevator, Flash Gidley stalked through to the living room, with Herk Duvan at his heels.

"My name is Flash Gidley," he announced. "This is my sidekick, Herk Duvan. It don't hurt if you know it.

The lid's off on the whole works. Shiwan Khan says so. You aren't the only guys that have been looking at

"Only I'm on one side of the fence, you're on the other. Shiwan Khan says you've got fifty grand here, so fork

Chadbury opened a little safe to get the money. He was remembering, rather vaguely, that he had brought the

cash here a few days ago. He had made a notation that he might need it. Probably he had been watching

Shiwan Khan's lights and thereby had been influenced to draw the money from the bank.

"What guarantee do I have?" he questioned. "How do I know that my niece will be safely returned?"

"Herk here will take care of that," replied Flash. "He's going to stick with you until tomorrow. This guy

Brent" he gestured toward Paul "is getting a good break, too. Shiwan Khan says he won't have to worry

There was no question as to the prime purpose governing Flash Gidley. He wanted to get the fifty thousand

dollars with as little delay as possible. He was purring other arguments that he hadn't abducted Beatrice, but

had actually saved her from danger. He hadn't known who she was, he added, until afterward.

That smooth talk was glossing over the matter of the money, making it look more like a reward than a

demand for ransom. Flash wanted everybody to be happy, himself included. He talked about concluding the

deal, and calling it quits. To that, Chadbury agreed; he had caught a glance from Paul.

Both had the same idea. With Beatrice returned, bringing the gun with which Hoang Kim had murdered

Ryndon, Shiwan Khan would have no hold over either Paul or Chadbury. They would then be able to have

They had correctly figured the shipping man to be a dupe like themselves, though they did not know the

extent to which he had come under Shiwan Khan's baleful influence. What they did not realize was the fact

As matters actually stood, Shiwan Khan was unable to keep either term of the agreement that Flash proposed.

But Flash had no idea of the real situation. He was bluffing because Shiwan Khan had ordered him to do so,

Chadbury reached for the box that held the money. There was a loaded revolver beside it; he felt an urge to

produce the weapon instead, but he resisted that desire, until he heard a voice he recognized speaking firmly

FLASH and Herk wheeled, reaching for guns. They were too late. Side by side, they were under a muzzle

that moved slowly, left and right, keeping them both covered. It was Beatrice Chadbury who stood in the

The girl was dressed in darkblue American clothes. No longer Lana Luan in mind or attire, she had come

here somehow ahead of the crooks. Flash, his hands raised and clenched, realized that he had given his game

While they were reporting back to Flash, Beatrice had slipped into the apartment house. Coming up to the

But who had released her from the hideaway, and told her to come here? Both questions had a single

Flash glared at Herk. Thinking that Flash's guesses were going deep, Herk gulped the whole story.

"The Shadow took her, Flash! The night we went to the hideaway, Brodie and me. Brodie tried to croak The

"What difference did it make, Flash? You tried to pull a double cross yourself, on these guys" Herk nudged

a raised thumb toward Chadbury and Paul "telling 'em the dame was coming back; and to forget the murder

rap. You was going to lam with the fifty grand, and leave me and the boys here to croak these lugs so they

While he talked, Herk didn't heed Flash's interrupting snarls. Meanwhile, Chadbury had the revolver from the

"There's another gun in the table drawer. Get it and cover this chap Herk. Beatrice can probably tell us what

"I can," announced Beatrice, very calmly. "We are to hold these crooks as prisoners, until "

Chadbury interrupted with a warning cry. Swinging away from Flash, he aimed his revolver wildly toward

the window. Paul made a grab for the gun in the table drawer, hoping he would be in time to aid. Beatrice,

Over the still had come a leering Mongol face. The yellow hand above it was starting the hurl of a

longbladed knife, with Beatrice as the target. Crime's counterthrust was on its way.

Out from the blackness of the night, Shiwan Khan had provided another of his lawless killers, to furnish new

A GUN spoke from the darkened doorway of the penthouse living room. It was scarcely noticed, the blast of

that automatic, for immediately afterward came the rattle of revolvers. But the spurt of that big .45 was the

Again, The Shadow's skill was demonstrated; the superiority of a bullet was proven, when compared to a

knife fling. The impact of the leaden slug jolted the Mongol at the window, just before his slinging hand

The knife scaled forward as the killer flew back. The blade whirred as it flashed a foot above Beatrice's head,

to bury itself, hiltdeep, in the living room's oakpaneled wall, A wailing, longpitched cry came like an

answer to the knife's useless zip, as the Mongol began a whirling journey of his own.

He was bound for the ground, twentyfour stories below, striking projecting cornices on the way. Somewhat

amazed, Paul and Chadbury were jabbing revolver shots through the window's empty space.

Beatrice knew where the rescuing shot had come from, for The Shadow had brought her here. She turned

about to greet her blackcloaked friend; a moment later, she was spinning toward the side wall of the room,

No longer in the daze of Lana Luan, the girl was able to halt herself as she reached the paneling. She saw

why The Shadow had again supplied a rapid rescue. Flash and Herk had spotted the black figure at the

doorway. No longer covered, they were yanking their revolvers, to fire at The Shadow.

As he flung Beatrice in one direction, The Shadow faded in the other. Their first shots traveling through

space, the two crooks shifted aim immediately. This time, they guessed the direction correctly, but their

Flash was stepping back to fire, Herk was lunging forward. Beating both to the shot, The Shadow took the

closer man. Herk received a fitting reward for his latest double cross a bullet that turned his lunge into a

dive. His gun spurted, but its aim was high. Flash supplied a direct shot at the same moment. but it did not

Herk's twisty pitch had thrown his shoulder in the bullet's path. The Shadow's cloaked head ducked away

before Flash could fire again. Catching Heck's sprawling body as he had grabbed Shan Juchi. The Shadow

Though luck had partly served The Shadow, it did the same for Flash. A chance writhe of Herk's body

destroyed the blackcloaked fighter's aim. Flash sped for the door with two men after him, before The

Paul and Chadbury were out to capture Flash alive. They didn't realize that they blocked The Shadow's fire.

As Flash flung himself into the lighted corridor by the elevators, his pursuers at last decided that shots were

necessary. They were aiming, about to tug their triggers, when two men sprang in to block them. They were

the thugs that Flash had stationed outside, and they realized their folly too late.

Before the pair could even pick out targets, Paul and Chadbury cut loose. The bullets meant for Flash took the

mobbies instead. From the living room doorway, The Shadow saw the pursuers clear the sagging bodies of

the thugs. Then came the clash of an elevator door; it was echoed by clang of bullets against metal.

Flash had made a getaway under gunfire. The only way to halt him would be to get quick word downstairs,

by telephone. Any excitement in the lobby would be spotted by Hawkeye, who would relay word to Cliff

Before The Shadow could reach the telephone, he heard Beatrice's scream. It came from the corner of the

THE SHADOW knew the only place from which danger could come; he did not stop to take a look. With a

low dive, he made straight for the window, bringing his eyes upward with his gun.

He heard the whir of knives that almost skimmed his back. He saw the extended hands that had flung them.

Two Mongols were half across the broad sill. They were reserve assassins who had climbed up together,

undeterred by the fate of the slanteye killer who had tried the previous thrust.

They had been swinging their knives when Beatrice saw them. Behind a chair in the far corner, the girl was

safe. Both killers were loosing their knife throws at The Shadow, when he had made that instinctive dive.

Fast and long, his low, headfirst surge had carried him just below the launched blades. But The Shadow had

Grabbing the cloaked arms, the Mongols tried to haul The Shadow across the window ledge. Beatrice had a

gun but could not fire, for The Shadow was tangled with his foeman by the time she aimed. The girl dashed

to the livingroom door, shouting for Paul and Chadbury. They came on the doublequick.

There was a muffled shot from the window. One Mongol sagged from the ledge, losing an elbow hold. As

that killer went outward, The Shadow's free hand gripped for the ledge, almost had it, when the remaining

There was a babbled shout of triumph as The Shadow slid outward; but as he went, the cloaked fighter

delivered an upward shot. Beatrice saw the Mongol jolt, claw his chest with his hands. Shrieking, the assassin

Blackness ruled the window space. Wildly, Beatrice hoped that it would materialize into a cloaked shape. She

was telling her uncle what had happened; he and Paul hurried to the window. They were dejected when they

turned about. There was no sign of The Shadow, as Beatrice realized when she also looked below.

The girl saw the ornamented edge of a cornice, a floor below the penthouse. It was the ledge upon which the

Mongols had perched themselves, prior to the arrival of Flash Gidley. Farther down, Beatrice could see other

ledges, like vast steps, all showing blank against the glare of the city's lights.

Somewhere below the lowest ledge that she could see, was a sheer stretch to the ground. At the bottom of it

lay the bodies of those victims who had taken the long fall. Mournfully, Beatrice pictured a cloaked form

The Shadow had settled three desperate assassins, but there was no possible chance that he could have

survived a plunge as long as theirs. Sobs racked Beatrice, as she thought of her rescuer's fate. Gently, her

"Tell us," he said, solemnly, "what do you know about Shiwan Khan? It is up to us to avenge the death of our

Beatrice nodded. Grimly brave, she was ready to do her part. The Shadow was gone, and the one way to

serve his memory was to settle scores with Shiwan Khan. Beatrice knew that she could provide the beginning

Dr. Sayre had told her what she had said while she was Lana Luan. The girl told of the lights that had blinked

nightly above the Green Pagoda; how she had been lured by them into the restaurant, there to visit a hidden

NEITHER Paul nor Chadbury could doubt what Beatrice told them, for they knew the hypnotic power of

Shiwan Khan's lights. They were pleased, too, when Beatrice remembered a message that The Shadow had

"I do!" exclaimed Paul. "I gave it to you, when you were Lana Luan. What did you do with it?"

"I don't know," replied Beatrice. "The Shadow simply said that the gun no longer mattered. The police found

"That clears you, Brent!" he exclaimed. "With Beatrice safe, we can both tell all we know. We can call in the

"We ought to see Dorron first," insisted Paul, "so he can hold the Aritoba. Maybe he was duped like we were.

Chadbury nodded while closing the safe, to lock up the fifty thousand dollars. He remarked that Dorron might

still be at his office; the shipping man usually remained there evenings when freighters were being loaded.

Taking Beatrice with them, Chadbury and Paul left the penthouse. They were solemn as they rode down in

the elevator. Despite their elation over the chance of balking Shiwan Khan, they had not forgotten The

Silent, too, was the cloaked form that soon rose from the blackness outside the penthouse window. Wavering

Crawling farther, he was blocked by Herk's body; managing to circle it, he reached the telephone. His gloved

Unlike the Mongols, The Shadow had not taken a long pitch from the window. Their plunges had been

inspired by bullets. The Shadow had dropped straight; his plummet fall had stopped on the cornice from

Managing to cling there, The Shadow had rolled inward from the edge. Strength returning, he had climbed up

Exhausted, The Shadow lay motionless. It would be minutes, perhaps many of them, before his senses came

back. Precious minutes for Shiwan Khan, whose evil cause had received a bad setback tonight. For Shiwan

Khan, perhaps, would have a chance to rally his depleted forces while The Shadow's recovery was under

True, measures were being taken to defeat Shiwan Khan. But such measures could bring only failure, when

Shiwan Khan was seated in his golden throne room, a silent, immobile figure. He was engaged in a period of

contemplation, in accordance with the teachings he had learned while in Tibet. The golden room seemed to

Last of the long line of descendants who had come from Genghis Khan, this new seeker of conquest had not

always dreamed of power. As a youth, he had been meditative, while he dwelt in the wilds of Sinkiang. He

had considered which way his future lay: whether in Tibet to the south, or Mongolia to the north.

He had chosen Tibet. Reaching the forbidden city of Lhasa, he had studied under the lamas, learned their

mystic ways. He had gained a mental power which his teachers had informed him he should use to

In that land where brawn and cruelty reigned, Shiwan Khan had experienced his ancestral urge for power. His

mental mastery over the Mongolians had caused him to foresee the rise of another Kha Khan, or Great Ruler

himself. He had gone back to his birthplace, Sinkiang, the dividing land that suited his complex nature.

A sharp interruption ended the contemplation of Shiwan Khan. An intruder had dashed into the golden room,

to fall kneeling at the throne. Shiwan Khan, fixing his eyes upon the arrival, saw the upturned face of Hoang

"We have failed, Kha Khan!" babbled the Mongol. "I saw, with these eyes, from the ground below. There

was trouble in the little house on the great building where the man Chadbury lives. Unless there had been

"They came from the window, all three" Hoang Khu lifted his hand, keeping his forefinger bent with his

thumb, so that only his last three fingers were raised "like tiny dolls! They were thrown to the ground!"

"Only one enemy could have accomplished that, Kha Khan. He alone could have saved the girl, her uncle,

and the man Brent, for they came, all three" the Mongol lifted his other hand "from the house above. The

By Ying Ko, the Mongol meant The Shadow. He was using the name that the Chinese employed when they

spoke of the intrepid, blackclad fighter. Yet Hoang Khu's excitement did not perturb the placid Shiwan

"Go!" The word was like the tone of a bell. "Await my orders, Hoang Khu. I shall learn more facts than you

AS Hoang Khu left, Shiwan Khan turned to his glass board. Again coupling the mechanical methods of the

West with this wisdom of the East, he began to flicker various lights. He pressed one switch, then another,

The words brought no mental answers. They proved what Hoang Khu had said. Neither Paul Brent nor Guy

Chadbury were where they could feel the hidden master's influence. There was a response, however, when

A mental answer came back. Probing Dorron's brain, Shiwan Khan received the impression that Paul and

Chadbury had called his office and were on their way there. Calmly, Shiwan Khan gave instructions. His

Dorron was to pose as a complete dupe, like the others, although, actually, he had accepted the rule of Shiwan

Khan. Through cunning argument, which Shiwan Khan detailed, Dorron was to dissuade Paul and Chadbury

He could attend to the Aritoba quietly, while they took up a more important cause: the trapping of Shiwan

Khan. After turning off Dorron's lights, Shiwan Khan monotoned a chuckle. He liked trappers. He had a way

Three little lights glittered as Shiwan Khan pressed a switch. They corresponded with the bulbs on Flash

Flash answered. Probing the crook's thoughts required patience on the part of Shiwan Khan, for Flash was a

less adaptable person than Dorron. Soon, though, Shiwan Khan had learned enough.

He sped new thoughts to Flash orders for him to leave his headquarters before the police called on him. He

As soon as that was done, Flash was to be at a specified place, to meet a person sent by Shiwan Khan. Flash

would then be started on another mission. At the end of it this was Shiwan Khan's final mental statement

Flash would be paid fifty thousand dollars, in lieu of the money that he had failed to get from Chadbury.

Extinguishing the three little lights, Shiwan Khan gazed at the blank glass board. His lips phrased a

melodious laugh, a change from his usual monotone, as he pressed a different switch. Chinese letters began to

flicker from the board. Shiwan Khan had started the flashing sign that hung above the Green Pagoda Cafe.

Though he knew that Beatrice Chadbury was no longer living the life of Lana Luan, Shiwan Khan still

believed that the sign would bring results; and it did. Across the street from the Green Pagoda, a man was

Harry had definite instructions from his chief. He was to watch the sign, in case it showed odd flickers.

Thereupon, it would be Harry's duty to report to Burbank. Harry had been warned, too, that he was not to

Without realizing it, Harry stared at the glow too long. He was counting the changes of the Chinese letters,

thinking that they were shifting at the rate of one a second. Instead, the letters had a slower progression.

To his amazement, Harry was reading those curious characters. With one of them, he seemed to hear the

MECHANICALLY, Harry crossed the street. A man in a trance, he entered the Chinese restaurant and was

shown to the little booth beside the idol. Thoughts were coming to his mind without the aid of the lights.

Sliding back the panel, Harry took the route that Beatrice had so often followed.

Passing the closed door of the room where the girl had discarded her own clothes for the garb of Lana Luan,

Harry followed the passage that went by the spiral stairway and came into the throne room of Shiwan Khan.

He halted like a stalled mechanical figure, to meet the greeneyed gaze of the goldgarbed master mind.

"Your name" Shiwan Khan seemed to probe Harry's brain to find it "is Harry Vincent. Once, you served

"From now on," said Shiwan Khan, "you shall serve me! I promise you a vast reward. You shall come with

me to the heart of Asia, to the underground city of Xanadu, where the sacred River Alph runs through

Harry's eyes seemed to light, as if they caught a vision of the splendid capital which dominated Shiwan

"Genghis Khan, my ancestor, conquered half the world," announced Shiwan Khan, proudly. "He used gun

powder, other implements of warfare that were modern in his day. His descendant, Kubla Khan, feared no

one, and was able to use the wealth that Genghis Khan had left him. With it, Kubla Khan built Xanadu.

"Thoughts are things. Sometimes they are sent 'on the wind,' as we say in Tibet. Once, a fragmentary vision

of the famed city, Xanadu, reached an English poet, Coleridge, who wrote his impressions. The words of a

"I, Shiwan Khan, have again discovered the lost city of Xanadu. Far beneath the earth, on the banks of the

sacred River Alph, it forms a vast bombproof shelter. No puny bombs could blast the mountains that cover

Inspired by his own description, Shiwan Khan was sweeping Harry into a state of ecstasy. Leaning forward,

"I shall be Kha Khan, the ruler of Xanadu! Through the wealth of the ancients, I am acquiring aircraft and

munitions. My air fleets shall travel everywhere, conquering unprotected lands. Should enemies attack my

country, seeking reprisal, all they will find will be dry deserts and barren mountains.

"I have stirred the people of Sinkiang, so that they are dissatisfied. When I return to Xanadu, I shall assemble

them. They will populate my hidden kingdom, and later, as conquest proceeds, the craftsmen of all nations

will be drawn to Xanadu. There, our factories will supply the planes and bombs for still greater conquest!"

Harry was approaching the throne, drawn by the powerful green eyes of Shiwan Khan. They were face to

face, and Shiwan Khan's lips were moving, but the words that he merely whispered seemed to thunder

"To you, I promise high honor in Xanadu, if you obey my present mandate. You will accept "

" the duty," continued Shiwan Khan, "of destroying the one enemy who alone can hope to block my

Entranced by the glare of the green eyes, Harry continued his slow nod. The lips of Shiwan Khan formed a

Harry Vincent had become the tool of Shiwan Khan. Doom was scheduled for The Shadow, to be dealt by the

WHILE Harry Vincent stood rigid before the throne, Shiwan Khan probed his pockets and found an

automatic, fully loaded. He placed the gun in Harry's own fist, with the ominous comment:

Harry nodded. His brain, fully controlled by Shiwan Khan, gave him no inkling of his present opportunity to

deal finally with The Shadow's greatest foe. A gun in hand, Harry was facing Shiwan Khan; like the other

agents, he was sworn to end that monstrous murderer's evil career, should he find the chance to do it.

The chance was here, and so was Harry. But the urge for the promised stroke was totally absent.

Contemptuously, Shiwan Khan brought a telephone from behind a golden curtain. Lifting the instrument

from the stand, he placed it in Harry's free hand. He wanted Harry to communicate with his chief, The

The Shadow, however great his prowess, had not yet acquired the skill to project thoughts, with his agents as

Mental jolts were reaching Harry's brain. They were the commands of Shiwan Khan, standing close beside

him. They told Harry what to do, then gave him leeway. His mind, so to speak, was on leash. Freely, it started

Harry called a number that came from his own memory. He heard a quiet voice across the wire:

"Vincent reporting," announced Harry. "Important information regarding Shiwan Khan."

Eyes were close to Harry's. Across the telephone, he met the green glare of Shiwan Khan, looming like the

vast sea of Manja, ready to swallow him in its forgotten depths. An uncanny shrewdness governed Harry's

"I can't report from here," undertoned The Shadow's agent. "There is danger. I must see the chief alone."

Burbank inquired if Harry could safely hold the wire open. Inspired by Shiwan Khan, Harry gave an

affirmative whisper. Burbank then informed that The Shadow had not been heard from since he went to the

Cliff Marsland had gone up there to look for him. Burbank was expecting Cliff's report over another wire.

Soon it came. Burbank made a connection, so that Harry could listen in. Shiwan Khan did not have to hold

the receiver. He was getting everything that Harry heard, through the agent's own brain.

Shiwan Khan was ready to pluck the telephone from Harry's hand, in case the power of The Shadow's voice

should influence him. There was nothing forceful, however, in The Shadow's tone. On the contrary, it

Besides, The Shadow was not talking directly to Harry. He was hearing the agent's request through Burbank.

"At the Jonas office," said the contact man. "As soon as you can get there within the next half hour."

With that, Harry let the telephone drop into the waiting hand of Shiwan Khan. Lifting the curtain, the master

Then, reaching to a shelf beneath a large brass gong, Shiwan Khan brought out a porcelain dragon. He let the

Fixing the dragon under Harry's arm, where it settled heavily, Shiwan Khan ordained:

"You will follow my directions, until you meet a man named Flash Gidley. Give him the dragon. Then

"Have the gun in your pocket" Shiwan Khan pushed Harry's hand into his coat "and shoot through the

cloth. Remember" the words had the clarity of a tinkling bell "that to you, sight of The Shadow means to

TURNING Harry about, Shiwan Khan started him through the broad door leading from the throne room. He

did not strike the small gong standing beside the glass board, as he had done when cutting off his projected

Shiwan Khan had supplied an influence under which he intended to remain until an event, quite as jolting as a

In leaving Shiwan Khan's, Harry went down the spiral stairway just outside the throne room. It took him to a

basement level, where he followed a long, interminable passage. The lowroofed corridor dipped at one

point, then rose again. Reaching what seemed a solid wall, Harry pressed it with his fingers.

To the left, straight up, then to the right the moves came naturally. They were inspired by the urging

thoughts of Shiwan Khan, who at that moment was standing, eyes half closed in concentration, near the

Though the motions of the wall were imperceptible, Harry's pressure produced the proper combination. The

wall slid aside like a door. As Harry stepped through, it glided back into place. In a small cellar, Harry saw a

flight of steps. At the top, he opened an ordinary door, that took him to an outside passage.

The underground corridor had carried him beneath two streets and the short intervening block. Going along

the outside passage, Harry reached a street that was three blocks from the one which fronted the Golden

Pagoda. No one would have connected this outlet with Shiwan Khan's headquarters above the Chinese

Harry had not gone five steps along the sidewalk, when a man stepped from a parked car and halted him.

Flash Gidley had seen the dragon that Harry carried. He gave his name when Harry asked it. It served as well

As Flash's car pulled away, a taxicab shoved into the space. Though he still stared straight ahead, Harry was

forming thoughts that were in a way his own, though they had come originally from Shiwan Khan. He

wanted to get to an address on Twentythird Street. The cab would take him there. Stepping into the cab,

Shiwan Khan was taking no chances on anyone trailing persons who came from his hidden lair. After a

circuitous route, the cab finally stopped in front of the building that Harry wanted. Without thinking to pay

the driver, Harry stepped from the cab and walked into the building, his hand deep in his coat pocket.

The Mongol at the wheel was not at all disturbed because he did not receive the fare. He was leering, in a

very unlovely fashion, when he drove away. He had delivered another of the walking figures who could

This one was just like the others. He would do whatever Shiwan Khan had ordained.

UP a rickety stairway, Harry turned into a passage where wavering gaslight threw its uncertain rays upon a

glasspaneled door that had a letter chute on a level with the knob. On the panel, in faded letters, was the

Who B. Jonas was, Harry had never inquired. This office was simply one where special reports were

delivered to The Shadow. Usually, Rutledge Mann dropped them in the mail chute, but Harry had also

The glass panel of the door was very grimy. The lock was the sort that could be opened with almost any

skeleton key, but usually, thick cobwebs, showing through the glass, gave indication that no one neither B.

Tonight, the cobwebs were missing. The fact didn't interest Harry. He had a mission to accomplish. Through

his dazed mind ran visions of a dream city with glorious palaces, glowing under some strange light that came

It was real, that city, and Harry wanted no one to destroy it. Only one person intended to destroy it: The

Shadow. Therefore, it was only right that Harry should prevent the terrible deed, by disposing of The Shadow

first. The place where The Shadow could be found was beyond the grimy old door, so Harry reached for the

Before Harry's hand could twist, the door whipped inward. The gaslight threw a block of light into the Jonas

Harry saw the brim of a slouch hat, cloaked shoulders beneath. A gloved hand swung a gun straight toward

Harry, as its owner suddenly realized that Harry's pocketed hand meant business.

Had Harry's reactions been normal, he would have dropped back at sight of that quickmoving muzzle.

Instead, his brain seemed to click a signal that controlled his trigger finger. A burst of muffled flame flashed

With the gunburst, Harry's trance snapped. He was in the midst of new amazement. He saw The Shadow

jolting upward, backward, to coil upon the bare floor of an unfamiliar room. His hand coming numbed from

Harry's vision went black at the sight of death before him. Struck with the terrible thought that he had slain

The Shadow, through some hideous mistake, Harry slumped to the floor beside the dead body of his

THROUGH Harry's gritted teeth came groans that drowned a muffled click from a closet in the corner of the

squarish office. Recovered from the staggering sensation that his own gunshot had brought, Harry was unable

He felt that another hand would have to perform that sorrowful rite. Another hand did a gloved one, that

Swinging about on hands and knees, Harry stared upward at The Shadow! If ever a daze had swept him, it

was then. The torpor produced by Shiwan Khan was nothing, compared to the stupefied bewilderment that

From The Shadow that stood beside him, Harry heard a solemn whispered laugh. He saw the burn of amazing

eyes that could only be those of his chief. Letting his gaze turn to the floor, Harry viewed the face of the dead

"He was a party to murder," expressed The Shadow, "as deep in crime as the rest. His death was deserved!"

The Shadow's statement was selfevident to Harry. He realized that he had fired his own shot in

selfdefense, even though the action had been involuntary. Thorner, lurking in the Jonas office, had swooped

out, intending to drop Harry with a gunshot. He had been waiting for a chance to kill The Shadow, or any of

Calmly, The Shadow explained how he had led Thorner to the Jonas office during the afternoon. Taking the

old cloak and hat from Thorner's body, he hung them in the closet where he had kept them, so that anyone

penetrating here would think that they had found The Shadow's actual headquarters, instead of a mere

There was an opening at the rear of the closet, where a specially constructed panel formed The Shadow's

Crossed snares had produced a curious result. The Shadow, talking to Burbank, had correctly supposed that

Harry was in the power of Shiwan Khan, because of the unusual request for a special meeting. Thinking that

Thorner had contacted Shiwan Khan, The Shadow naturally supposed that he was being duped to enter a trap

He had said for Harry to meet him at the Jonas office, merely to satisfy Shiwan Khan.

But the master plotter, who usually knew so much, had not been acquainted with Thorner's little game. It

happened that Thorner had cooked up the cute idea all on his own, as the results had definitely proven.

In sending Harry to kill The Shadow, Shiwan Khan had doubly injured his own cause. He had lost the

services of Thorner and had also released a valuable prisoner, in the person of Harry Vincent.

The Shadow, too, had made a mistake. He had taken his time, coming in to surprise Thorner, not suspecting

that the fellow would be due for a clash with Harry. His purpose had been to capture Thorner and make the

fellow talk, in hope of learning just where Harry was. Thus Thorner and Harry had fought it out together.

It was Harry not Thorner who might now provide a worthwhile trail. Questioning his agent, The Shadow

learned the same facts that Beatrice had disclosed; namely, that the Green Pagoda was the route to Shiwan

Khan's lair. But Harry's experience had been short and recent. It was possible that he could remember more.

Behind the closed door of the Jonas office, The Shadow faced Harry toward a brilliant gas jet, then turned

him so that he could gain the proper glitter from The Shadow's own eyes. Under that burning gaze, Harry felt

the creeping return of his recent daze. The Shadow talked of lights outside the Green Pagoda; gradually,

He remembered the panel beneath the idol, the trip to Shiwan Khan's golden throne room. He described all

that had occurred there, even mentioning two gongs that he had seen: a little one beside the glass board, and a

Memory of the porcelain dragon returned; with it, Harry described the long corridor that he had used for exit.

He told how he had given the dragon to Flash Gidley, then started for the Jonas office.

There the story ended; Harry was suddenly brought from his trance by a jolt that The Shadow pounded to his

LEAVING by the secret route, The Shadow told Harry to contact Burbank and arrange for the removal of

Outside the building, The Shadow entered Moe's cab and made a rapid trip to the neighborhood of the Green

Pagoda. Skirting the block, The Shadow saw a forming police cordon. He knew that Paul Brent and Guy

The Shadow's surmise was correct. More than that, the hunt was making progress. Inspector Joe Cardona was

in charge, and he had taken over the Chinese restaurant. Under rapid persuasion, the proprietor had begun to

He was pointing out the panel that led beneath the idol. He didn't know what lay beyond it. He had been paid

to put it there, for the use of persons who seemed to know where it was. He had always been able to identify

One reason the restaurant man talked was because Beatrice Chadbury had come along with her uncle and

Paul Brent. Recognizing her, the owner of the Green Pagoda thought that she had already imparted the

The bluff was Cardona's idea. The ace inspector was quite pleased with himself when they began the trip to

Posting men along the line, he stopped at the top of the stairs to watch Beatrice Chadbury open a door that

she had suddenly recognized. Close behind Cardona, Guy Chadbury and Paul Brent heard the girl give

"Those are my clothes!" declared Beatrice, pointing to a chair: "I remember taking them off in this room, so I

Joe Cardona was suddenly impressed that he was on the trail of something important. So far, the story had

made him rather dubious, because Guy Chadbury had confined it to a kidnap charge. Cardona had believed

the part about Flash Gidley demanding fifty thousand dollars ransom. But Beatrice's talk about a master mind

Finding the clothes made it different. If Beatrice had worn them in here, and left them, she must have put on

other garments in order to go out. Either she had left as Lana Luan or Lady Godiva, and Cardona decided that

He posted his last detective to guard the clothes as evidence. Turning to Beatrice, Cardona said:

"All right, Miss Chadbury. Your story stands to date. What about this Shiwan Khan? Do you think he's

Beatrice nodded emphatically. They followed her along the passage to the throne room.

Seeing the light from the golden room, Cardona pressed ahead, drawing his gun. As he stopped at the wide

Shiwan Khan was seated placidly in his throne, facing the door. He had drawn aside the cloth at the side of

the little alcove, revealing the large gong hanging above the vacant shelf where the seventh porcelain dragon

UNPERTURBED by the bristle of three revolvers, Shiwan Khan gave a slitted smile and bowed. His eyes

seemed to focus on the four pairs of eyes at the door. Each person felt the power of that stare, and tried to

"I have expected you," announced Shiwan Khan, in his singular tone. "Three of you have already been tuned

Shiwan Khan's words were sheer bluff. Without the hypnotic influence of his lights, he could not place other

minds under immediate control. Only a person willing to be hypnotized could succumb to his powerful eyes,

though their influence did have a marked effect when accompanied by his persuasive speech.

"You have told little," remarked Shiwan Khan, his gaze shifting between Paul and Chadbury, "but not all.

Therefore, the law is still uninformed on my most important secrets, and shall remain so."

The verbal bait was too much for Cardona. He started into the room, the other two men with him and Beatrice

Shiwan Khan's only weapon was a small wooden hammer that he weighed between his longfingered hands.

He looked helpless against the guns; in fact, he raised his arms wide apart as the group approached.

As they crossed the threshold, Shiwan Khan gave a hard backstroke with his upraised hammer, a move

designed to bring his enemies forward in a surge. But before they could spring to action, a blackclad

Slicing through the edge of the doorway, The Shadow wheeled upon Cardona and the others, flinging himself

into a dive that carried all his weight with it. Bodily he carried them back across the threshold, sprawling

them in the hall. Their guns were barking wildly in his ears at the moment when Shiwan Khan's hammer

Shiwan Khan had spoken of vibrations. The golden room received one, of a devastating sort. Instead of

merely quivering, the golden drapes collapsed. With them came thundering walls, a crashing roof. Beams,

rafters, bricks and mortar roared destruction that Shiwan Khan had meant to swallow four unsuspecting

Except for the alcove in the far wall, the entire room was gone. Three rescued men and a girl were blinking

upward at the open sky, when they heard The Shadow's laugh, dispelling the final echoes of Shiwan Khan's

SO thick was the cloud of piling debris that The Shadow's shots were useless when he opened fire with a

brace of automatics. He was trying to get bullets through to Shiwan Khan's alcove, where complete darkness

Everywhere, the bullets met obstruction, a fact announced by the harsh laugh of Shiwan Khan filtering

through the wreckage. The laugh continued when The Shadow's shots were spent, and with it came a purring

Situated in the solid wall of the next building, Shiwan Khan's alcove was an elevator. From the direction of

the sound, The Shadow could tell that it was going up, instead of down. Evidently, Shiwan Khan preferred

Perhaps he had guessed that The Shadow had entered by the route that led underground, three blocks away,

and was therefore neglecting that advantage. Probably Shiwan Khan did not know that the police had formed

a cordon around the single block to which his flight was automatically restricted by his choice.

Gripping Cardona in the darkness, The Shadow informed him of Shiwan Khan's direction and announced that

he was leaving the fiend's capture to the law. The Shadow mentioned the underground passage, however, in

case Shiwan Khan reversed his course. Then, with a final trailing laugh, The Shadow was on his way.

Leading his rescued companions, Cardona started down through the Green Pagoda, to start the hunt for

The Shadow had gone by the underground passage, so as not to be delayed by the cordon. He had another

objective, where he intended to operate alone. He had not forgotten the dragon that Harry Vincent had handed

MATTERS were brewing at Twindell's before The Shadow reached there. Flash and a few of his mobbies

were grouped in the passage near the side door; the rest were stationed in front and in back of the house. It

Harper, the butler, answered. Flash lifted his coat, to let the servant see the dragon. As Harper nodded and

stepped back, Flash jabbed him with a gun. The men at the side door entered, and soon had Twindell's

Benjamin Twindell first learned of the invasion when Flash entered the study and found the old collector at

his desk. Twindell showed immediate alarm at sight of the gun Flash pointed at him. He gave a peculiar gulp

"We're friends," informed Flash. "Good friends! Why? Because we both know a guy named Shiwan Khan.

"The idea is this," said Flash. "You want this dragon, to match up with six others sitting there on your shelf. I

want fifty grand fifty thousand bucks to you which Shiwan Khan owes me. He says I can collect from

"You'd better take a gander at your books," returned Flash. "The way I got it, you still owe dough to Shiwan

"Ah, yes!" He nodded. "I had forgotten this extra credit. It comes to forty thousand dollars. I suppose I can

"You can, all right!" he said. "I'll tell you why! Because you're buying a special service; get it? With us

barging in here, the cops will think that somebody was trying to rob the joint. They'll never figure we brought

"That's worth ten grand, ain't it? Ten grand for a real alibi? It's cheap for a guy like you, who's got plenty of

dough and a rep he's got to watch out for. Forty grand from his nibs, ten from you that makes up the kitty."

The arguments produced a pleased cackle from Twindell. Hearing it, Flash was sorry that he hadn't asked for

more money. He decided, though, that it was best to follow Shiwan Khan's instructions.

While Twindell was opening his huge safe, Flash went out to the stairs and called down to his men, telling

"Tell these guys of yours that we're all right," Flash said to Twindell. "Then we can give them back their gats.

When we lam, we'll do a lot of shooting, see? They're to do the same only, it's all in fun. When the bulls get

Twindell explained matters to the servants. Harper and the others grinned, when they understood the game.

Rogues in their own right, they knew that Twindell was crooked. Any measure that covered their master's

PARTIES to a crooked game designed by Shiwan Khan, both Twindell and Flash sent their followers from

the study, to get posted for what was to follow. A few of Flash's mobbies remained, looking around at the

curios. Flash wanted them with him, so the fake battle could begin as they started downstairs.

He was expecting Twindell to bring money from the safe. Instead, the withered man produced several check

"Why not?" cackled Twindell. "My name will not be on them. These are accounts belonging to imaginary

companies, with false names of officers. I have used them in all the transactions that I have performed for

"Why should I? Forty thousand dollars of the fifty belongs to Shiwan Khan. As I have already told you, I

Flash made no further objection. Twindell was making out many checks, all for small amounts, payable to

cash. They would be easy to cash. Gathering the checks as Twindell wrote them, Flash was too interested to

A blackcloaked figure had arrived in the little passage at the top of the stairs. The Shadow, entering while

all hands were getting instructions in the study, had found later opportunity to move upstairs. From the

doorway, he could see the porcelain dragon squatting on the desk. He watched Flash reach for the last of

It was almost the time for action. Drawing back, The Shadow was ready to let Flash and the mobbies pass.

Then he could cower Twindell in the study and cover the departing crooks from the doorway. Flash and his

whole tribe could not dislodge The Shadow, if they came from one direction only.

At the moment, however, The Shadow's position was unenviable. If discovered, he would be between two

fires. A minute more, the odds would be his. All seemed perfect for The Shadow, when he caught the clatter

Something had happened below, bringing a pair of Twindell's servants and one of Flash's thugs up to the

Trapped in the very spot he didn't want, The Shadow was faced by a serious emergency. His time limit of a

minute was cut down to a few seconds, with disaster, not victory, waiting at the finish.

There was a way, however, to make those brief seconds serve. It depended upon an important fact that The

Coolly, The Shadow leveled a .45 at the porcelain dragon that stood on Twindell's desk. He pressed the

From its interior gushed a cascade of shimmering gems: rubies, sapphires, emeralds a galaxy of jewels

FLASH heard the gunshot, so did his slouching thugs. But they saw the flood of gems that the dragon had

The sight made Flash forget everything else. He thought that one of his own men had blasted the revealing

Flash made for Twindell. The old man screeched. Driving into the room, The Shadow blasted shots at the

astonished thugs. They were sprawling, The Shadow was wheeling to a corner, as Twindell's servants

entered. Flash was full about, bellowing as he fired, and Twindell's howls were louder.

It was gang against gang, with The Shadow handy to even up the odds. The cloaked fighter let Flash drive

past, then followed. Flash wanted his crew to clean up the servants, to make sure the path was clear. He didn't

understand why shots from above the stairs were clipping the mobbies, until he wheeled to see The Shadow.

While the mob leader was still tumbling down the stairs, to join his crippled pals and the battered servants,

The Shadow wheeled back into Twindell's study. The scrawny man was waiting for him, but not with a gun.

"I'm innocent!" he whined. "I swear it! Shiwan Khan is to blame for all! The facts are in this casket. Look!"

Before The Shadow could reach Twindell, the old man in his eagerness had flipped the casket open. It was

Twindell, not The Shadow, who received the answer which Shiwan Khan had said would satisfy the man who

A coil of silver writhed within the casket. A darting head slid out. jabbed its tiny fangs into Twindell's wrist.

The old man staggered as he let the casket fall. The Shadow fired a shot at the silver snake that wriggled

The bullet blew away the snake's head, but the creature's body still wriggled as The Shadow watched it.

Slumped across the desk, Twindell's hands were buried in the jewels that lay about the shattered Ch'ien Lung

dragon. The man who had aided Shiwan Khan's schemes was dead, served with a poisonous dose that had

Every dragon on Twindell's shelf had carried its quota of jewels, which had been turned to cash at Twindell's

sales, for Shiwan Khan's purchases of supplies, airplanes, and munitions. The contents of the seventh dragon

He had his reward: the jewels on the desk. But Benjamin Twindell had not lived long enough to really enjoy

A solemn laugh crept through that room of death. With the fading of that tone, The Shadow was gone.

POLICE were arriving when The Shadow reached the street. It must have been their approach that had

caused members of both bands to hurry to the study. During the quick battle in which one gang had turned

against the other, The Shadow had noted some men sprawl as they flung themselves from the front door.

Officers were entering that same door when The Shadow departed from the side, but they didn't account for

the fact that a cordon was forming all around the block. As he finally left the neighborhood, The Shadow saw

the commissioner's big car arrive. On that account, he soon returned to Twindell's.

The Shadow came as Lamont Cranston, in a big car of his own. Recognized as the commissioner's friend, he

was admitted. On the ground floor, he met Beatrice Chadbury, who introduced him to her uncle and Paul

Brent. The girl told Cranston that the commissioner was upstairs in the study, with Inspector Cardona.

At the study door, The Shadow met Weston, who looked very sick. Jabbing his forefinger back into the room,

the commissioner told Cranston not to look. So The Shadow looked, and saw what he expected, though it

The thing was Twindell's body, no longer scrawny. It was swelled from the poison that had brought such

rapid death. The face was covered with splotches, mostly green and purple, and the wideopen bulge of

A police surgeon had just decided that Twindell was dead, a statement that pleased Joe Cardona, because he

was reaching Weston's state. The body was lying on a stretcher that had come in from an ambulance, so

Coming out with the police surgeon, Cardona detailed two detectives to guard the body. Entering the study,

they stared curiously at the gaudy drape of red and gold, as though they wondered what was underneath it.

After Cardona gave a terse but graphic description of what the body looked like, the detectives lost their

On the way downstairs, The Shadow learned what had brought the turnout. Shiwan Khan had been sighted

near the Green Pagoda. Still wearing his golden robe, he had made an excellent target for police bullets; but

"Either he ducked that lead," growled Cardona, "or that smock he was wearing fooled the eye. Anyway, he

"With a big mongrel driving it," resumed Cardona, "and we took after him. When he headed up here, I had a

"Thereby losing trace of Shiwan Khan," added Weston. "From what I have heard, we practically had the

"He's in this house," insisted Cardona. "We nabbed the mongrel out back, and while he won't talk, we know

"I have just talked to the Federal agents," he said. "We called them up a while ago, and they went to the

Hoboken pier. Evidently Dorron was really working with Shiwan Khan. He let the Aritoba get under way.

"She won't get far, though. They intend to intercept her in the lower harbor, remove most of the crew and tow

her back to dock. I told them about the cargo, and said that Brent and I could explain the reasons for our

ODDLY, Chadbury felt a confidence as he spoke. Perhaps it was because he found himself addressing

Lamont Cranston. He realized that Cranston was the man who had found Beatrice, and he was sure that this

friend could supply real evidence to prove that all crime was due to Shiwan Khan.

"The proof is quite plain," said The Shadow. "Shiwan Khan must have purchased many supplies and shipped

them to Sinkiang, with Dorron's aid. I can produce a man" The Shadow made reference to Harry Vincent

"Shiwan Khan intended to start a kingdom in the wilderness, with himself as ruler. Buying supplies was

simple, but airplanes and munitions promised him more difficulty. So he established fake companies, in

Twindell's name, very early in the game. With Dorron already controlled, he merely needed to force two

The "two others" were Paul Brent and Guy Chadbury. Having already admitted the fact, they were relieved,

"Shiwan Khan's chief Mongol is named Hoang Khu," continued The Shadow calmly, as though he had

learned the fact from some informant. "Hoang Khu murdered Bob Ryndon, because Ryndon had learned too

much in Sinkiang. The ruby that Ryndon had was probably one of many that Shiwan Khan used to bribe the

There was another link that The Shadow did not mention the fact that Bob Ryndon knew Paul Brent, and

that the death was intended to incriminate Paul. That detail was a thing forgotten, for which Paul was quite

Sudden enlightenment had struck Commissioner Weston, in regard to the matter of the jewels. He spread a

large cloth upon the table, to display the gems that had been brought from Twindell's study.

"Certainly," returned The Shadow. "Shiwan Khan has masses of them, the spoils that his illustrious ancestors

took from conquered nations. Look at the stones, commissioner. Any expert will tell you that they are

"Very easily," replied The Shadow. "Find Twindell's own collection, which he did not sell. It is probably

somewhere in this house. When you find it, you may also find Shiwan Khan. Though he considers jewels to

The search of the house had been completed, but Weston decided to go at it again. He and Cranston were at

the top of the stairs, when Weston heard his friend suggest that they look at the room next to Twindell's study

Cardona was shouting up the stairs that the dead wagon had arrived. While Weston and Cranston were busy

in the other room, the two detectives came from the study, bearing the stretcher with the silkdraped body.

Evidently their vigil had not agreed with them, for Cardona noted their fixed expressions when they were

Hearing the call from above, Cardona hurried to the study. He found the commissioner standing by the desk,

pointing to a section that had lifted like a hinge. Lights were shining from the open space.

"Cranston found these," expressed the commissioner. "An odd thing: the panel, like the lights, seems to be

WESTON interrupted himself. Cranston was finding more. He was half inside of Twindell's big safe,

working at the back of it. He found a spring along the edge. The rear of the safe slid smoothly into the wall.

Sighting a light beyond, the police inspector lunged through the big safe and the opening at the back of it. He

came into a tiny room that sparkled with the brilliance of many jewels, arrayed upon a table. The Shadow had

The sight that really gripped Cardona was that of a goldrobed figure crouched at the end of the table, bent

forward as if gloating over the massed gems. Recognizing Shiwan Khan's attire, Cardona decided not to give

Pumping away with his Police Positive, Cardona literally punched the goldclad figure from its chair; then

bounded past the table to add a few more bullets, in case Shiwan Khan still offered fight. He hoped, too, to

He recognized the face he saw, but it did not belong to Shiwan Khan. Joe Cardona was staring squarely into

His own eyes shut, Cardona groped back through the safe. He was remembering the lights and the dead

He was realizing something that The Shadow had understood before Cardona had made that unneeded surge

From that new lair, which he had gained as a hiding place, Shiwan Khan had pressed a switch controlling

lights in Twindell's study. The glowing bulbs had attracted the two detectives who were guarding Twindell's

Obeying the bidding of Shiwan Khan, they had carried the corpse into the jewel room, where Shiwan Khan

No wonder the two detectives had passed so stiffly in the lower hall! Still obedient to Shiwan Khan, they

were carrying crime's master out to the dead wagon, under the brilliant cloth that had previously covered

Weston was shouting when Cardona dashed past him. Something about Cranston having disappeared.

Cardona didn't wait to talk about it. Tearing downstairs, he passed Chadbury, Beatrice and Paul as they came

Reaching the avenue, Cardona saw tiny lights, no larger than distant pin points: the taillights of the hearse

that was carrying Shiwan Khan away to safety. Before the ace inspector could yell for men to follow, he

A taxicab shot away, in pursuit of Shiwan Khan. From the speeding cab, Cardona heard a laugh that promised

THE hearse that carried Shiwan Khan was far speedier than the dead wagons that took murdered victims to

the morgue. The detectives who had placed the stretcher aboard it had not noticed that it was a highpowered

Controlled by Shiwan Khan's vibrating thoughts, they had simply delivered their burden and waited outside

the house. The Shadow had seen them when he passed, and knew they would remain in their stupor until

If no one else thought of that, The Shadow would take care of the matter when he returned as Cranston. For

the present, he was no longer Cranston. From a special sliding drawer beneath the rear seat of Moe's cab, The

Shadow had extracted his familiar garb of black. Ready with his automatics, he was prepared to blast the

Shiwan Khan provided for everything. He had probably arranged this getaway, if forced to hide at Twindell's.

Perhaps the walls of his special hearse were of steel. The only way to find out was to test them. That

Like Shiwan Khan's special vehicle, The Shadow's cab was geared for speed, and demonstrated it. Away in

back, The Shadow could hear the wail of sirens fade. The fact did not surprise him, for the hearse had tried

some twisty tactics that only Moe had managed to follow, partly, by The Shadow's guidance.

They were on a cross street and the hearse was only a few blocks ahead, making straight for a downtown pier.

Ahead loomed a yawning entrance, beyond that, the dock itself. The Shadow urged Moe to a greater show of

As the hearse sped through the pier opening, a big steel door began to slide shut. Moe whisked to the other

side and whipped through with inches to spare. The hearse did not slacken speed. It reached the outer end of

Only The Shadow saw two figures dive from the front seat as the vehicle disappeared into the water. One was

the driver, probably Hoang Khu; the other, Shiwan Khan, who had come through to the front seat. Moe did

Brakes jammed, the cab did a nerveracking skid right to the brink. The door on that side flew open and The

Shadow launched himself into space. He did not know what lay beneath, but Shiwan Khan and the other man

HAD he delayed, even a few seconds. The Shadow would have missed his chance. He landed on the very

Clutching the stern rail with one hand, The Shadow aimed an automatic toward two figures that were driving

The stabs of the gun showed the faces of two Mongol fighters. Their knives slashed The Shadow's cloak,

skimming his flesh with it. His first shots were wide, but the next ones took effect. Lurching forward, ripping

his cloak from the knives that pinned it to the narrow deck, The Shadow made a hard swing with his empty

That stroke clashed the blade that Hoang Khu was thrusting for The Shadow's heart. Two Mongols

eliminated, The Shadow had reached the last of the brawny killers in Shiwan Khan's depleted crew.

The Shadow had guessed right; Hoang Khu had been the hearse driver. Judging from his actions, he hoped to

His crippled arm recovered, Hoang Khu held The Shadow in a ribcracking grip that prevented him from

getting at the extra automatic which he had stowed beneath his cloak. All the while, knife jabs were coming,

During that flaying struggle, Shiwan Khan was watching calmly from near the bow. Clad in the dark, baggy

clothes that he had worn beneath his golden robe, the Oriental crime master was patiently depending upon his

most capable Mongol to succeed where many others, Shan Juchi included, had failed.

There was nothing else that Shiwan Khan could do. The Shadow had not forgotten him. At no time did

enough of a cloaked form display itself for Shiwan Khan to fire, if he had held a gun in readiness. But Shiwan

Leaving a scudding wake behind it, the rakish speedboat was driving far out into the harbor. Coolly, Shiwan

Khan stepped up beside the man who stood at the wheel. The pilot was Mitchell Dorron; he had provided the

Away ahead, Shiwan Khan saw the glimmer of searchlights upon a squatty vessel that was being towed into

Dorron nodded. His lips showed a grimace. He was angry because the freighter had been halted and turned

"I have commanded!" Shiwan Khan's green eyes glared coldly into Dorron's, as the man turned his face.

Dorron obeyed, while Shiwan Khan turned toward the stern. He could hear the muffled shots of an automatic

Hoang Khu was evidently fighting to ward away the muzzle, for although the shots continued, Shiwan Khan

Counting the shots, Shiwan Khan heard one that brought a chortle from his slitted lips. It was The Shadow's

So the master plotter thought, as he saw his strongest fighter lunge. Then, from the sag of Hoang Khu's body,

The Shadow had won! Letting Hoang Khu's bulletladen body fall aside, the cloaked victor was waiting for

Shiwan Khan to move. This was the moment that The Shadow had long awaited, when Shiwan Khan would

have no other choice than conflict, without the aid of hypnotizing lights, vibrating gongs, or protecting

SHIWAN KHAN met the test. During his stay in Tibet, he must have made some side trips to the jungle, to

learn the ways of beasts as well as men. For the spring that he gave had all the swiftness and the power of a

Shiwan Khan met The Shadow near the stern, flung him back against the rail. Hands that made steel seem

Shiwan Khan's fingertips failed to get their wanted grip. Twisting from the vise that would have meant sure

death, The Shadow thrust his own hands for Shiwan Khan's neck. The man who sought mastery of all the

world was to learn of conquest delivered by a single foe. The Shadow's clutch was velvet, with solid steel

Half across the stern rail, The Shadow was dragging Shiwan Khan into total submission. He could feel a neck

that throbbed under his own choking fingers. His head bobbing, The Shadow was weaving away from

Shiwan Khan's weakening grabs, actually elbowing aside the hands that had at first been more powerful than

Shiwan Khan was sinking steadily, when across his foeman's bowing head The Shadow saw two scudding

tugs cut clear from a looming hulk that was rising dead ahead. It was the Aritoba, with only a dozen seconds

Giving Shiwan Khan a twisty fling, The Shadow rolled across the stern rail. As he went, two hands shot after

him. Fingers, recuperating with a giant's strength, caught The Shadow's torn cloak. Lashing his overbalanced

As he struck the water, he saw the face of Shiwan Khan, long arms outstretched beside it, making a great

Then came the blast that shook the harbor. Hurtled forward by its stiffened pilot, Dorron, the speedboat gored

the hulk of the Aritoba, drove itself deep into the munitionsstocked hold and became the spark that set off a

The freighter split apart, gushing a mass of flame that seemed to scorch the sky. Pieces of aircraft

skyrocketed with the bombs that they would never carry. Echoes of the blast still roared when flame had

Swimming steadily, The Shadow reached the stern of a crippled tug with a coal tow. Rolling upon the deck,

he lay in darkness while the engine resumed its laboring poundings, to take the sinking towboat into dock.

Other craft were visible near where the Aritoba had gone down. They were using searchlights to hunt for

Seaplanes were zooming out from shore. One settled like a tired bird, its motor still throbbing. As the sweep

of a searchlight glistened from its wings, the seaplane plowed the water. The Shadow saw it lift and take off.

With the plane's fading drone, The Shadow recognized that the brief landing could have been more than the

pilot's whim. The ways of Shiwan Khan were many, as were those who served him. It was possible that the

master plotter was alive; that the plane was beginning a trip to Sinkiang and the ancient city of Xanadu!

Such was crime's final riddle. Had Shiwan Khan, the conquered, survived his conflict with The Shadow? Or

had he gone to the watery depths that swallowed the products of his lost ambitions?