THE GREEN BOX.............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. CONVICT 9638................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE SHADOW PLANS ..................................................................................................4

CHAPTER III. THE SHADOW TRAILS ...............................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. IN SOUTHFIELD........................................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. THE DEAL ....................................................................................................................16

CHAPTER VI. THE LOST TRAIL .......................................................................................................20

CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW ARRIVES........................................................................................23

CHAPTER VIII. MEN MEET ...............................................................................................................28

CHAPTER IX. MEN OF WEALTH.....................................................................................................30

CHAPTER X. THE VIGIL ....................................................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. THREE THREATS......................................................................................................38

CHAPTER XII. CRIME BREAKS.......................................................................................................42

CHAPTER XIII. THE RAID .................................................................................................................46

CHAPTER XIV. COMING CRIME.....................................................................................................50

CHAPTER XV. HAWKEYE MEETS THE SHADOW .......................................................................53

CHAPTER XVI. ROWLING GIVES ORDERS ...................................................................................57

CHAPTER XVII. AGENTS WATCH..................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVIII. THE THIRD CRIME ..............................................................................................65

CHAPTER XIX. GRIFF DECIDES ......................................................................................................68

CHAPTER XX. TABLES TURN.........................................................................................................71

CHAPTER XXI. FRUITS OF CRIME ..................................................................................................73

CHAPTER XXII. THE BREAK ............................................................................................................75

CHAPTER XXIII. GRIFF'S STRATEGY............................................................................................77

CHAPTER XXIV. THE PRICE OF CRIME........................................................................................79

THE air seemed thick within the prison cell. Rays of dullyellow light from the central cellroom faded on the

Bolder was the pallid moonlight that trickled through the window. It formed a whitish splash across the cell

floor a luminous pool that was marked with lines of black, as grim reminders of the bars between which the

Eyes were upon that patch of light. Two men were staring toward it, fascinated by this token of the outside

world. Moonlight was the only privilege that these prisoners could share with free men in the world beyond

One man, his dull face rendered overly pale by reason of the moonlight, was staring from a lower bunk. His

clutching hands trembling talons were closed about the side of the iron bedstead.

The other, stationed in the berth above, was gazing toward the floor in patient fashion. Of the two, he seemed

The upper man leaned over the edge of the bunk. His face, crafty as it was hardened, formed a marked

"I I'm feeling worse." The wheezy man gasped as he spoke. "I I can't hold out much longer."

"You'll be all right tomorrow." Sammy's tone was encouraging. "Take it easy, old fellow. They're going to

"Ferris!" The man below gasped his own name. "Ferris Ferris Legrand. That's my name, isn't it?"

"Sure it is." The man above laughed. "Ferris Legrand that's you. Sam Fulwell that's me."

"All right, Sammy." Legrand sighed contentedly. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be done. Done, I tell you!

Everything has been taken from me here even my name. Ferris Legrand that's not my name. I'm nine

"Forget it," growled the man above. "That doesn't mean anything, Ferris. It's just like a telephone number or a

A warning hiss from above. The moaning man became silent. His cellmate had detected a sound. The

The pacing footsteps of a guard sounded with approaching monotony. A bulky man appeared outside the cell

door. He shot the rays of a flashlight into the little room. He saw two prisoners lying with closed eyes. He

THE receding beats announced the guard's departure along his rounds. The wheezy voice began again from

the bunk below. Its tones were scarcely audible. The man above leaned further over the edge.

"Sammy" Legrand's words were disjointed. "Don't forget all that I told you. You you know the place.

"It's it's all I managed to keep, Sammy. It's it's worth more than than all they took from me. They don't

"Even Mildred doesn't know," gasped Legrand. "My my poor daughter. I was was afraid to tell her. I

wouldn't have told you, Sammy except that I'm going to die. I I had to count on you "

"You'll be all right." The man above was studying Ferris Legrand's pale face. Tired eyes had closed. Legrand

could scarcely mumble. "It won't be long before you're out. I'll have what you want "

The man who called himself Sam Fulwell stopped him abruptly. Again he assumed a listening attitude. His

face was grim and tense. His eyes centered on the moonlight that showed the outline of the cell window.

The square of light had changed. Across a corner near the cell door lay a shrouding edge of blackness that

broke the luminous space. The firmfaced man stared toward the door. Seeing nothing, he gazed at the

window. The moonlight showed in full intensity. There was nothing there to block its path.

Again the keen eyes wandered to the floor. The blackness that obscured a portion of the moonlight was still

in evidence. To the startled gaze that viewed it, the patch of darkness seemed grotesquely like a human

silhouette! Yet there was no one at the door of the cell no one that the observant prisoner could see.

"Sammy!" Legrand's wheezy whisper bore an anxious note. "Sammy! Are you sure I told I told you all that

"What's the matter?" wheezed Legrand. "There's nobody coming, Sammy. This is the last chance I'll have to

"Keep quiet, Ferris." The order was fierce. "I know everything. Don't say another word."

"But maybe I forgot something. You only know what I've told you. You've got to listen, Sammy "

Sammy's eyes were still glued to the unmoving patch of blackness. Despite its lack of motion, that splotch

might indicate a living presence. The man in the bunk above was anxious to hush his cellmate.

Legrand, in turn, was quite as anxious to proceed. His condition was delirious. His fevered mind was seeking

to deliver its old message through dried lips. Mumbling words came from the lower bunk. Again, a warning

Legrand, like Sammy, heard the pacing footsteps. With a weary sigh, the peaked man in the lower bunk

rolled over on his side and lay silent. Despite his fevered brain, he knew the meaning of the clicks and

followed the rule that he had learned that of silence when the guard approached.

THE guard was slow on this trip. His clicking steps were interrupted as he stopped at different cells. They

came closer; his bulky form blocked out the feeble light from the central room. His flashlight roamed through

The beams showed the man called Sammy. He was raised upon one elbow. His eyes had been staring at that

motionless patch upon the floor. Now they met the flashlight's glare, and Sammy's left hand rose.

The guard threw a flash toward Legrand's bunk. He saw the pale face; he observed closed eyelids. He clicked

off the flashlight and lowered his growl as he spoke to the man in the upper bunk.

"He's asleep now," asserted the guard. "He'll do till morning. They're coming for him at six o'clock."

The guard paced away. Sammy, still leaning on his elbow, stared hard at the moonlight on the floor. The

guard's form had not obscured it. All the while, the blackened silhouette had remained. It was still there now!

Sammy peered below. He could barely distinguish the whiteness of Legrand's face. The sick man was asleep.

The man above dropped his elbow. He continued to stare over the edge of the upper bunk, watching that

patch of moonlight and the strange shadow that had somehow come across its path.

Long minutes passed. Legrand's breathing was wheezy for a while; then it faded. The sick man was

slumbering quietly. A hard, satisfied smile appeared upon the face above. The convict who called himself

Sam Fulwell closed his own eyes. Five minutes later, unfaked snores proved that he, too, was asleep.

The watchful prisoner had found no need for further vigil. He knew that Ferris Legrand would talk no more

tonight. The riddle of the blackness in the moonlight needed no further speculation.

All was quiet in the prison cell. On the morrow, Convict 9638 would be removed. He, himself, had voiced the

seriousness of his plight. His cellmate had meant it when he had doubted that the man in the lower bunk

Convict 9638 was dying. His dried lips had made their last utterances. His end was near; and with his passing

The man called Sam Fulwell was nearing the end of his term. He could sleep contentedly, for soon he would

be free. When the doors of the penitentiary clanged behind him he would depart, carrying with him the secret

BLACKNESS moved in the patch of moonlight. The silhouette, hitherto motionless, withdrew toward the

darkness of the wall. The convict in the upper bunk did not observe it. Even if he had still been awake, his

eyes could not have distinguished the shape that stood in the darkened corner of the cell.

Nor would his ears have heard the soft swish that came from that darkness. A figure was moving there; so

quietly that neither sight nor hearing would have detected it. Blackness edged the moonlight and moved

The light from the central room was blocked by a spectral shape. Gloved fingers silently opened the barred

door without a clang. A figure slipped softly into the gloomy light beyond. A door closed and locked as

A phantom shape was gliding across the floor of the central room, moving steadily toward a corridor beyond.

Drowsy convicts, lying in their bunks, neither heard nor saw the passing shade. Eyes would have bulged had

they observed this creature of the night. The weird being that had entered Ferris Legrand's cell to station

himself unseen was one whom all men of crime regarded with terrified awe. Coming into the empty, lighted

A tall figure clad entirely in black. Body shrouded beneath the folds of a flowing cloak; visage hidden

between upturned collar and the brim of a slouch hat. Keen, blazing eyes alone in view. These were the

characteristics of the secret visitor who had entered the penitentiary and found his way within a locked cell.

Master hand who battled crime, The Shadow traveled everywhere. Clews to evils of the past; inklings of

impending wrongs these were the traces that he sought with unerring skill. No barrier could balk The

With a quick glide, The Shadow merged with a patch of darkness beside a firehose. The space was not

sufficient to conceal a human form, but this chameleon of the dark required no more than a background.

The Shadow's tall form blended with the darkness and caused the shaded patch to appear no different except

in size. So effective was the ruse that the pacing guard marched by without a momentary thought that eyes

While the clicking footsteps still resounded in the long main corridor, The Shadow emerged from his

temporary spot of hiding and glided swiftly to the side passage from which the guard had come. He reached a

door, unlocked it softly, and entered a small room, closing the door behind him.

A LIGHT switch clicked against the wall. A single incandescent revealed a plainly furnished room. It was

The Shadow crossed the room and faced a mirror. His hat dropped from his head; his black cloak dropped to

Beneath his sablehued garb, The Shadow was dressed in the uniform of a penitentiary guard. His features,

dull and heavyjowled, were those of a man of middle age. Brightly reflected in the mirror, they seemed

Peeling off his black gloves, The Shadow pressed finger tips against cheeks and chin. His false features

A suitcase lay to one side of the stand on which the mirror was attached. Into this, The Shadow dropped the

black cloak and hat. In his false guise of a prison guard, he turned toward the door of the room. A rap greeted

The door opened. In stepped the guard who had recently made the rounds through the cellroom.

"Hello, Mike," growled the newcomer. "I thought you'd gone off duty. Just saw the light under the door, and

"I did go out," retorted the false Mike. "Had to come back though. Forgot my suitcase."

"I generally do. I left a new suit up here though, and forgot to take it out with me. Had to come back with this

The false Mike had turned from the mirror. The single light was behind his head. His face, though its features

were discernible, remained slightly shaded. The genuine guard had no suspicion that his companion was an

Picking up the suitcase, The Shadow strode through the door. He uttered a gruff good night and continued on

his way. He reached an open courtyard, where a bright searchlight was revolving, sending its huge beam

As The Shadow crossed the court, his tall, slightly stooped form was revealed. The glare showed the guard's

uniform and the face above it. No challenge was given. The passer had been recognized.

The Shadow reached a wicket. He showed a pass card. The guard behind the gate scarcely noticed it. He

The watcher pressed a button. The Shadow walked ahead. A man in a tower pulled a release in response to

Still playing the part of Mike, The Shadow trudged along a road that led from the huge walls of the

penitentiary. He reached the end of a trolley line. A car was waiting there; but The Shadow did not enter it.

Long fingers opened the suitcase. Out came the black garments. A soft laugh echoed from The Shadow's lips

THE SHADOW had played a simple but effective game. Less than two hours ago, Mike, the guard, had left

the prison. He had gone downtown, changed his uniform to civilian clothes at Caffrey's boarding house, and

Twenty minutes after Mike's departure, The Shadow had arrived disguised as Mike. He had entered the

penitentiary; had remained there long enough to make his observations. Like the man whose part he had

played, The Shadow had left for the night. His ruse had succeeded to perfection.

Why had The Shadow paid this visit? Why had he risked the trip through guarded gates and walls into a cell

The answer came hours later, when a light clicked in a pitchblack room. White hands appeared beneath the

glow of a bluish lamp. A rare stone, The Shadow's girasol, sparkled upon a finger. The Shadow was in his

Two folders appeared upon the table. These were records which The Shadow had obtained from his secret

archives. One bore the name of Ferris Legrand. The Shadow opened it. Clippings and other papers came to

In his vast accumulations of crime data, The Shadow kept records of thousands of cases. Crooks galore were

labeled more thoroughly in his files than they were by the police. Through extensive memoranda, The

Shadow kept track of criminals and their associates. He was always ready when new developments of old

The study of the first folder ended, The Shadow turned to the second. This bore the name of Slade Farrow.

The first object that showed when the file opened was a photograph of the man who occupied the cell with

Sam Fulwell Slade Farrow. The initials were the same. The latter name was the correct one. Clippings were

lacking in this folder. Letters, however, appeared with differing dates. The Shadow's laugh came softly

These facts that concerned Slade Farrow were known only to The Shadow. They gave all the details of the

man's association with crime. They reached the point where he had gone to jail, preserving his alias of Sam

The Shadow closed the second folder. His hands produced a map. A long finger followed a thin, curving line

that represented a railway on the largescale chart. The finger stopped upon a small city: Southfield.

WHITE paper appeared with blue ink. The Shadow's hand began to write. It inscribed a letter in odd

characters, a simple but effective code. The ink dried; The Shadow folded the paper carefully and quickly

With another pen, one that contained a darker ink, The Shadow wrote the address:

Tomorrow, Rutledge Mann would receive that note from The Shadow. A complacent, chubbyfaced

investment broker, Mann served as The Shadow's contact agent. High in his office in the towering Badger

The writing would fade immediately afterward. Such was the way with the ink that The Shadow used in

communicating with his agents. But Mann would remember what he had read. He would summon one of The

Shadow's active operatives and would dispatch that man upon the quest which awaited in the city of

Crime long forgotten! Its aftermath was to come. As Convict 9638, Ferris Legrand had languished in a State

prison, hoping for the day when he would be free to return to his old life in Southfield.

That day would never come. Ferris Legrand was dying even as The Shadow studied the facts that concerned

his past. But another would step in to take his place one craftier than Ferris Legrand.

Slade Farrow, alias Sam Fulwell, had learned a secret from Legrand's dying lips. Its import was something

that only Farrow knew. The existence of the secret, so Farrow thought, was also a fact unknown.

But Slade Farrow had not reckoned with The Shadow. Suspecting some such secret, the blackgabbed master

had made his strange visit within prison walls. There The Shadow had learned that Slade Farrow had taken on

Days alone remained until the clever, hardfaced convict would be at liberty. Then his action would

commence. Secure and confident, Slade Farrow would step forth to begin a new and startling career.

The Shadow's plans were made. Crime was impending in Southfield. Mysterious events, linked with hidden

secrets of the past, were already in the making. Slow, cautious moves would lead to rapid action.

THE upper concourse of the Grand Central Station was thronged with holiday travelers. A tall man, standing

near a train gate, was watching the passers in leisurely fashion. To all appearances, he was merely a chance

There was something in this personage's appearance that marked him as distinctive. Hastening train takers

were too busy about their own affairs to give more than a passing glance toward the waiting man's unusual

Keen eyes gazed from beside a hawklike nose. Thin lips remained inflexible. A living statue, this personage

Thirtyodd feet away, a squareshouldered man was pacing back and forth near the same train gate. He was

waiting for the barrier to be flung open, hence he did not observe the hawkfaced watcher who was

observing him as well as the gate. Two sentinels: one's purpose concealed; the other's was apparent.

The tall observer who had rendered himself so inconspicuous was none other than The Shadow. The

squareshouldered man was a representative of the law: Detective Joe Cardona from police headquarters.

Swarthy of visage, steadyfaced in expression, Joe Cardona was a sleuth who prided himself upon his

keenness of observation. His confidence would have experienced a drop had he known that The Shadow,

Had Cardona been thinking of those about him, he might have observed that watching face with its sharp eyes

and aquiline nose. But Cardona, on this late afternoon, was concerned only with one purpose the close

The gate swung open. A flurry of persons began to come through the exit; then came teeming crowds. A

plainly dressed man, his face drooping and discouraged, came along in the wake of the throng. Following him

was a sturdy stroller who glanced in Joe Cardona's direction. The waiting detective nodded. He sauntered off

THE SHADOW, ever vigilant, had recognized the droopfaced arrival on the instant. The man was the one

whom The Shadow had seen in the cell at the penitentiary the one who had learned Ferris Legrand's secret.

Joe Cardona, as he started after the arrival, did not notice the hawkfaced personage who also took up the

trail. Together, the detective and The Shadow were taking up the pursuit of one man. Joe Cardona was

checking up on an exconvict whom he knew as Sam Fulwell. The Shadow was taking the path of Slade

The trio passed unnoticed amid the crowds that were spread beneath the starstudded ceiling of the

The express platform was crowded; nevertheless, Joe Cardona did not lose sight of his man. Farrow took a

downtown train. Cardona and The Shadow followed. At Fourteenth Street, Farrow alighted.

As he followed the shambling exconvict up the steps, Joe Cardona felt that a hunch was working. The

swarthy detective expected to trail his quarry to the badlands. He was sure that Farrow was headed in that

On the street, however, the jailbird pulled the unexpected. He stepped directly into a taxicab, gave a growled

order to the driver, and rolled away. Cardona, close behind, duplicated the order. He leaped into a second cab,

flashed his badge to the driver, and pointed to the taxi ahead just as it was jamming into traffic.

Cardona's promptness was not followed by the last of the three. The tall, keeneyed personage who had come

from the subway stood staring through the dusk as he saw Cardona's cab pull away in pursuit. A thin smile

Farrow's cab shot off through traffic. Cardona's taxi sped after it. Traffic, coming the other way, was

beginning to move out of the jam. From between two cars, a furtive man stepped forth, hurried to a cab that

The man was Slade Farrow. The exconvict's manner had changed. From a beaten, shambling individual, he

had become a quickfooted traveler. He had sent Joe Cardona off along a blind trail.

Farrow, however, had not deceived The Shadow. The tall watcher, stepping out into the street from which

traffic had just moved, reached a spot beside Farrow's new cab just as the exconvict barked a destination to

the driver. Picking his way to the far curb, The Shadow walked swiftly to the nearest avenue and took a

The Shadow's cab pulled up at the exclusive Cobalt Club. Its tall occupant alighted. The doorman saluted.

"Good evening, Mr. Cranston," he said. "Are you going in the club, sir, or do you want your car "

The doorman signaled. A big limousine pulled over from across the street. The chauffeur raised fingers to the

"Uptown, Stanley." The Shadow uttered this order in a quiet tone, through the speaking tube to the driver.

Then, as the limousine pulled from the curb, he added: "Take me to the Aristides Apartments on West

AS the limousine swept up Park Avenue, its calmfaced occupant settled back in the cushions and lighted a

cigarette. The glow from the tip showed brightly in the gathered gloom. As Lamont Cranston,

multimillionaire, The Shadow was playing one of the roles that he most frequently chose when in Manhattan.

The real Lamont Cranston was a globetrotter. He seldom visited his magnificent estate in New Jersey,

although he maintained servants there during his absence. During these long periods while Cranston was

away, The Shadow, master of impersonation, posed as Lamont Cranston whenever he so desired.

The Shadow had finished his cigarette long before the limousine reached Ninetythird Street. Darkness had

gathered. The form in the rear of the limousine was practically invisible. Something clicked in the darkness as

The Shadow opened a bag that lay on the seat beside him. A mass of blackened cloth slipped like a shroud

Stanley pulled up at the Aristides Apartments. He had made the trip in rapid time. The Shadow had

experienced no delay. The door of the limousine opened. It was by a darkened portion of the sidewalk.

Stanley, sitting stolidly at the driver's seat, neither heard nor saw the phantom shape that glided forth.

The Shadow followed the darkened front of an old building as he approached the glittering marquee of the

Aristides Apartments. He reached a narrow alleyway and paused there. His keen eyes saw a cab pull up in

front of the apartment house. Slade Farrow stepped out. The Shadow had beaten the exconvict to his

As Farrow walked into the lobby of the apartment house, The Shadow took to the blackness of the alley. He

found a side delivery door and entered it. He reached the edge of the lobby just as Farrow approached the

Farrow turned and strolled into a waiting elevator. The door clanged. The clerk, taking his chair, picked up a

copy of The Shadow Magazine and resumed his reading. Little did he realize that The Shadow himself was

WHILE the clerk's eyes were fixed upon the printed pages, the tall, blackclad shape passed directly in front

of the marble desk. Across the deserted lobby to the stairway; such was The Shadow's course. He was on his

The exconvict, meanwhile, had reached his goal. The door marked A3 was open. Farrow entered it and

closed it behind him. He passed through a tiny, darkened anteroom past a telephone table and walked in to

meet a big, blufffaced fellow who was standing in the center of the living room.

"Hello!" gasped the big fellow. "Say, boss it didn't do you no good to be in stir "

"Forget it, Dave," laughed Farrow. "That was just a vacation. I had the time of my life."

Dave shrugged his shoulders. His beefy face showed a lack of comprehension. Slade Farrow was smiling as

his steady eyes studied the other man's countenance. Then, spying an open door at the side of the living room,

Busied with their greetings, neither Farrow nor Dave had heard a slight sound at the outer door of the

apartment. That door had slowly opened inward. A figure had entered from the gloom of the hallway.

Shrouded in the semidarkness of the little anteroom, The Shadow was watching and listening. He had arrived

in time to see Slade Farrow enter the doorway at the side of the living room. Now he could hear the

"Very good, Dave," was Farrow's commendation. "You've kept everything the way I wanted it. My new suits

"I followed instructions, boss." Dave was seated in an armchair, lighting a cigar. "That's the last thing you

told me. Stick here and be good until you showed up. I had a long wait, though."

"You're a good fellow, Dave," came Farrow's chuckle. "Nothing better than a crook gone straight. I knew I

"I mean that I was followed. I told the warden I was coming to New York. I figured some detectives would

be on the lockout for me. My past record isn't so good according to their books."

"Coming in on the Central. There was a dick on the train. Another picked up the trail in the terminal. Short,

"I guess so. I gave him the slip at Fourteenth Street. Then I came here. He's still looking for a fellow named

A pause followed. Farrow was dressing. Dave continued to puff his cigar. The Shadow waited. Then came

"Going away again, boss?" Dave's tone was incredulous. "I thought you might be going to locate here in New

"I have other plans, Dave. You may hear about them later. I want you to stay here and wait until you get word

from me. Perhaps I'll be back within a few days; if not well, that will take care of itself."

A long pause. Suddenly, Farrow came from the inner room. He was carrying two large suitcases, which he

SLADE FARROW was different from the furtivefaced man who had so recently arrived at this apartment.

His features were the same, but they had lost their hangdog expression. His expensive attire was a marked

Shoulders erect, eyes clear and bearing one of dignity, Slade Farrow belied the statement that clothes do not

make the man. From a sheepish jailbird, he had become a gentleman. Joe Cardona, had he seen Slade Farrow

"Say, boss!" Dave's tone was one of keen admiration. "You spoke plenty when you said that it didn't do no

harm to be in stir. Say I didn't half recognize you when you came in. Now, though, you look better than

"I wouldn't mind dropping in on the warden," laughed Farrow. "He would get quite a surprise to see the

"Of course not." Farrow laughed. "I'm leaving on a midnight train, Dave from the Grand Central. I'm not

going back to the pen, but I'm picking a city not so very far from there. That's all I want to tell you now. Do

Farrow pulled a check book from his pocket. He brought out a fountain pen and wrote a check, which he

"Two hundred, Dave," announced the exconvict. "I have plenty in this New York bank. I can establish

Dave fished out a roll of bills, extracted the amount that his chief required, and gave it to Farrow in exchange

"Say, boss" Dave's tone was one of wonder "the way you work beats me. You keep fellows like me out of

the jug then you go and get shoved in stir yourself. As soon as you're out, you start away on something else

"That's my business, Dave," snapped Farrow. "In the meantime, stay here and await instructions unless I

return. There's work to be done here in New York, but I've always preferred the smaller cities."

Dave nodded soberly. There was approval in his manner. Despite the hardness of his countenance, Dave had

an honest air which Farrow seemed to note. The exconvict laughed. He thrust out his hand for a parting

"I'm going aboard the train, Dave," he said. "The sleeper opens at ten o'clock, and I'll be leaving it early in the

The Shadow was moving from the anteroom. The door had closed behind him before Dave, picking up one of

the suitcases, was leading the way toward the hall. The two men went down in the elevator while The

Shadow watched from the obscurity of a side passage. A few minutes later, Dave returned. The Shadow saw

A soft laugh sounded as The Shadow glided toward the stairs. The Shadow had trailed; he had heard. That

was sufficient. So far as The Shadow was concerned, Slade Farrow had announced his exact destination.

The midnight train the necessity of leaving the sleeper early in the morning these were all the facts that

The Shadow required. Six hours out of New York, that midnight train connected with the D O Limited, a

Slade Farrow was on his way to make use of the secret that he had gained from Ferris Legrand!

AT one thirty the next afternoon, the D O Limited was pounding its course along a onetrack line that wound

upward through steep hills. Slade Farrow, immaculately dressed, was seated in a Pullman car, staring from

Up ahead, he could see the locomotive as it swung a sharp curve to the left. He heard the shrill blasts from the

whistle that signified the train was approaching a grade crossing. Farrow stared with interest, for he could see

Then, with surprising suddenness, the locomotive reached an iron trestle that crossed a precipitous gorge. As

the train straightened, Slade Farrow looked straight downward. Slowly, the cars of the limited crossed the

structural bridge. Two hundred feet below were huge rocks that marked the sides of a tiny, winding stream.

As Farrow's car passed the trestle, the watching man saw the grade crossing. A paved road came on a curve

Evidently this highway paralleled the railroad until it neared the gorge; then it crossed and kept along the side

Farrow's assumption was correct. The road came in view later. The train increased speed with curves and

grade behind it. The road stayed parallel for a few miles, then dipped down into a smaller depression and

Farrow arose at the porter's statement. He went to the front of the car, where he found his grips waiting in the

vestibule. The train was clicking into station yards. It was rolling past grade crossings in the little city which

Farrow was one of the few passengers who alighted. He found himself on the platform of a wellbuilt station

where a main street crossed the tracks of the D O Railway. Traffic was waiting for the limited to leave. A

THE hotel was but a few blocks from the station. Slade Farrow arrived there. His bags were carried in, and he

As the clerk was assigning a room to the new guest, a cleancut young man strolled into the lobby. Slade

Farrow did not see him. The same young chap had been at the station. He had walked in this direction while

Passing the desk, the young man glanced at the register. He saw Farrow's name; also the room number 309.

The young man smiled. The single elevator had gone up. When it came down, the young chap entered it and

This keen observer was Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow. He had come to Southfield for the express

purpose of awaiting Slade Farrow's arrival. Informed by telegraph that Farrow was due on the D O Limited,

Leaving his door a trifle ajar, Harry Vincent sat down in a chair. From his vantage point, he could see the

About fifteen minutes after Harry had stationed himself, the door of Room 309 opened and Slade Farrow

The two went down on the elevator. Farrow walked from the lobby. Harry lounged about for a few minutes,

then strolled out. He saw Farrow crossing the street half a block away. Keeping the man in view, Harry

followed. He watched Farrow stop at an old brick house which had been converted into an office building. He

Harry Vincent smiled. It was not difficult to guess where Farrow had gone. The door through which the man

had entered opened on a flight of steps. The second story offices the only ones which were occupied were

those of Norton Granger, a prominent young Southfield attorney. Satisfied, Harry went back to the hotel to

ON the second floor of the office building, Slade Farrow had entered a large room where a stenographer was

seated at a desk. In a pleasant tone, the exconvict inquired for Mr. Granger. The girl took his card, entered

Slade Farrow entered. He found himself facing a young, quietfaced man who sat at the opposite side of a

large desk. Norton Granger was serious of demeanor. Despite his youth, he had the appearance of a capable

Granger's eyes were keen as he observed his visitor. In Slade Farrow, he saw a man who appeared both

respectable and wealthy. There was nothing of the crook in Farrow's expression. That had left him when he

"Yes," rejoined the visitor. "From New York. I have arrived in town today, and I have business here in which

"I am in the clothing business," stated Farrow. "Wholesale and retail. I have money, and it is my desire to

open an enterprise of my own. I have decided that it would be best to locate in a territory served by a single

"Exactly. I believe that I could do well here, provided that I could begin by buying out some small but

established business. Inasmuch as this will involve legal matters, I decided that my first step should be to

"Excellent. I have an account in a New York bank which I shall transfer here to Southfield. I want to establish

myself as soon as possible; and also I intend to open a few branch stores in some of the smaller towns in this

"I can see," stated Norton Granger, with a slow smile, "that you are seeking advice on questions other than

"Why not?" Farrow chuckled. "I am willing to pay for all services rendered. I've figured it this way, Mr.

Granger. In a town like Southfield, any prominent man should know a lot about conditions. Go to the right

"Who is the right man?" Farrow's question was canny. "I decided that I wanted a lawyer. Business men,

realtors, fellows like that they all have something to sell to a stranger. A lawyer hasn't; but he knows

Norton Granger pondered. Slade Farrow watched him expectantly, but so carefully that the attorney did not

"This clothing business, Mr. Farrow. Are you anxious to buy out one that is doing well? Do you want a

"No." Farrow was emphatic. "I want a small business, and I would prefer one that is not going strong. That

would mean a better purchase. I can attend to the expansion myself. Understand, though, I want to take over a

concern that has been going for five or ten years at the least. I'm a stranger here in Southfield. I've got to

"I think," said Granger, slowly, "that I can arrange the very purchase that you want to make. You have done

well, Mr. Farrow, to come to see me. This may prove to be a fortunate coincidence.

"Let me take care of this matter for the time. Perhaps I can make some arrangements this afternoon. I shall be

"Very well. We will have more time to discuss the matter, and by that time I may have broken the ice. As I

"Yes. A good price if it seems fair. You can count on me for that, Mr. Granger."

The young lawyer arose and extended his hand. The appointment was arranged. Farrow detected a pleased

gleam in Granger's face. He did not show his observance of the discovery, however, until he had reached the

It was then that Slade Farrow chuckled. He was smiling as he reached the Southfield House and entered.

Harry Vincent, seated in the lobby, noted Farrow's pleased expression. He decided that Slade Farrow's

AT eight o'clock that evening, one of the trim Southfield taxicabs pulled up in front of a brick mansion on the

A few moments later, a coupe rolled up and parked beneath a clump of trees not far distant. Harry Vincent,

This was the home of Norton Granger. Slade Farrow, entering, was met by an elderly servant who solemnly

ushered him into a small room which appeared to be a study. Two persons were there: one was Norton

Granger; the other was a young woman whose attractive features made an immediate impression upon Slade

"Good evening, Mr. Farrow," exclaimed Granger, rising as he gave the greeting. "I should like you to meet

Slade Farrow bowed. He took the chair which Norton Granger offered him. Seating himself behind a desk,

"The Southfield Clothing Shop," explained the young lawyer, "is owned by Miss Legrand. She has had

charge of it since her father's illness, which terminated, unfortunately, in his death.

"I have informed Miss Legrand of your desire to purchase such an establishment, and she has agreed to the

sale. These papers" Granger was unfolding the packet "contain full data concerning the present stock and

Nodding, Slade Farrow drew his chair beside the desk. He began to go over the documents, while Norton

Granger added comments. At times the lawyer paused to ask questions of Mildred Granger. On these

THE exconvict noted a listlessness to Mildred Legrand's tone. He also detected a kindliness on the part of

Norton Granger. These were facts which Farrow kept in mind. Although his entire attention seemed

Half an hour passed. Slade Farrow settled back in his chair and folded his hands. He seemed to be quite

"I am ready to make an offer," he declared. "This, of course, is subject to my inspection of the establishment.

The information which you have here seems to be quite complete, so I have no reason to suppose that any

"Yes," rejoined Farrow. "For all stock, fixtures and goodwill; immediate occupation of the premises; and I

A slight gasp came from Mildred Legrand. Norton Granger covered it by turning immediately to Slade

"I believe," asserted the lawyer, "that your offer will be acceptable to Miss Legrand. I am acting as her

attorney as well as yours, Mr. Farrow. I have taken the liberty to draw up the bill of sale, leaving spaces only

He produced the document in question, wrote in the sum of fourteen thousand dollars, and passed pens to

Slade Farrow and Mildred Legrand. The signatures were made. Farrow drew a check book from his pocket

"You can deposit this tomorrow," he told Granger. "If there is any change in the amount, we can settle that

Mildred Legrand's face had brightened. Slade Farrow noted it, but made no comment. Norton Granger began

to speak in a friendly tone to Farrow when the old servant appeared at the door of the study.

Granger's face clouded. The lawyer arose to his feet. Mildred Legrand placed a hand upon his arm.

"Doctor Broomfield has come to take me home, Norton," she explained. "He he promised to stop for me

"I thought," returned Granger, solemnly, "that you might stay a while longer, Mildred. I wanted to take you

"My business here is finished," insisted Mildred, rising. "I I think that it would be best for me to leave. I

want to thank you, Norton, for doing so much in my behalf. I am pleased to have met you, Mr. Farrow."

A protest was on Norton Granger's lips. It was too late. The girl had reached the door. Granger, following,

stopped on the threshold and watched Mildred join a tall, dignified gentleman at the outer door. He turned

GRANGER said nothing for a few moments after he had taken his seat behind the desk. He chanced to glance

in Farrow's direction, and saw that the visitor was eyeing him intently. The lawyer shifted uneasily as he

"I believe it right," declared Granger, "that I should be frank with you, Mr. Farrow. Your purchase of this

business has been a fair one. Yet I must admit that the price is higher than either Miss Legrand or myself had

"You are buying a business," asserted Granger, "which is worth considerably more than the price that you are

paying. At the same time, had you not entered the picture, the Southfield Clothing Shop would soon have

"I see." Farrow smiled. "Miss Legrand is benefiting to the extent of exactly fourteen thousand dollars."

"It is quite all right with me. At the same time, Granger, you are my attorney as well as Miss Legrand's. I am

a stranger here in Southfield. She is evidently a person whom you have known for a very long while."

"That is true." Norton Granger nodded solemnly as he caught the mild innuendo. "I knew that you might

bring up that fact. That is why I intend to explain matters to your satisfaction."

"Miss Legrand," stated the young lawyer, "is the victim of unfortunate circumstances. If you remain long in

Southfield, Mr. Farrow, you will undoubtedly hear mention of them. Therefore, I may as well discuss them

"Her father, Ferris Legrand, was a man who had once had a rather doubtful reputation, but who had settled

down to business. Ferris Legrand, five years ago, was making a success with the Southfield Clothing Shop.

He owed some of this success to the aid which he had been given by my father, Wilbur Granger."

The young attorney's eyes wandered to a photograph which hung upon the wall. Farrow's gaze followed the

same direction. The exconvict studied the pictured features of an elderly, sternfaced man.

"Yes," replied Norton Granger. "He handled the affairs of the most important men in Southfield. He was

attorney for Rutherford Blogg, the manufacturer; for Hiram Marker, who owns the waterworks and the

electric plant; for Townsend Rowling, the realestate owner who controls the Southfield Bank."

"Very big. My father was prominent because of his association with them. He was wealthy and influential.

Farrow listened as the young lawyer lowered his tone to deal in solemn reminiscence.

"FOUR years ago," declared Norton Granger, "I was away at law school, in my senior year. Father was living

alone in this home. Banks, our old retainer, left one afternoon. Father was here when Banks went out.

"That night, a motorist from out of town happened to cut through an abandoned road which no one used. He

saw a body lying in a ditch. It was my father. He had been murdered. The motorist hurried into town. The

"They surprised a man who was leaving by the back door. They trailed him and the path led to Ferris

Legrand's store. They entered and discovered Legrand. He was hiding money and documents which he had

"So the evidence showed. The prosecutor set out to prove that Legrand had murdered my father, also.

Legrand had no alibi to show where he had been that evening. Nevertheless, the murder charge was dropped

for lack of evidence. Ferris Legrand was sent to the State penitentiary for ten years, convicted of burglary."

"He is dead. He passed away in prison one week ago. His daughter, Mildred, had been carrying on the

business while he was in prison. She had hoped that he would be paroled. Her hopes are now ended."

"I understand." Farrow's voice seemed sympathetic. "Now that her father is dead, her interest in the store has

"Precisely. Time and again, she had balked at selling her father's business. She knew that it must inevitably

fail if she tried to conduct it. Nevertheless, she bravely kept it above water, so that her father could resume

Norton Granger paused. He sat with chin in hand, his elbow on the table, staring solemnly at his father's

"You are Miss Legrand's lawyer," he asked, "in spite of the crime that her father committed?"

"Yes!" challenged Granger, angrily. "I took over my father's work. I represent the men whom he represented.

Ferris Legrand, though not a man of importance, was one of my father's clients. I took it upon myself to offer

"Commendable," declared Farrow. Granger softened at the tone. "That is a fine bit of sentiment, Granger. If I

may speak from my brief meeting with Miss Legrand, I can say that she apparently appreciates what you

"I know she has," returned the young lawyer. "But the past still intervenes." His tone saddened. "No matter

what I do, Mildred still remembers that her father was convicted for a crime committed against my father.

"It is. I have tried to argue that her father might be innocent even though the evidence was complete against

him. That makes no difference to her way of thinking. Until her father's name is cleared, she will never feel

Slade Farrow nodded knowingly. The truth was out. Norton Granger was in love with Mildred Legrand. The

young lawyer's disappointment at the arrival of Doctor Broomfield to take the girl downtown was merely

"It is too bad," commented Farrow, as he arose to leave the study. "I am glad, Granger, that I have been able

to do a good turn through my purchase. Let me express the hope that it may be a step toward bringing

THE new owner of the Southfield Clothing Shop extended his hand. Norton Granger accepted it warmly. He

telephoned for a cab; then accompanied Slade Farrow to the door. While they waited for the taxi, they

When Slade Farrow entered the cab which arrived for him, he indulged in a broad smile. He was thinking of

the past of his long sojourn in the prison cell with Ferris Legrand, former owner of the business which

The present, so far as Slade Farrow was concerned, was linked with the past. The future that the exconvict

A coupe trailed the taxi to the Southfield Home. Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, had watched the house

Tonight, The Shadow's agent intended to dispatch a report through Rutledge Mann. The Shadow would learn

SLADE FARROW stepped from the front door of the Southfield Clothing Shop. He locked the door behind

him. A package tucked under his arm, he strolled along the main street toward the Southfield House.

Twentyfour hours had elapsed since the exconvict had visited the home of Norton Granger. Slade Farrow

was now sole proprietor of the Southfield Clothing Shop. He had gone over stock. He had arranged to keep

the old staff of clerks. He had also made arrangements to occupy small quarters above the store.

The main street of Southfield was peculiarly free of idlers. Young men were in evidence, but most of them

seemed well dressed and bound on business. At one spot, Farrow passed a lighted building which bore the

Observant eyes were upon Farrow as he passed. He had gone scarcely a dozen yards when two young men

They watched Farrow, saw him cross the street and observed him enter the Southfield House. The starter

These new observers were not the only ones who were keeping track of Slade Farrow. Harry Vincent,

lounging in the hotel lobby, watched Farrow go upstairs. The Shadow's agent waited.

Up in Room 309, Slade Farrow unwrapped his package. He took out a light overcoat one that he had taken

from the stock in the store and hung it in the closet. He folded the wrapping paper and placed it in his

"Hello." Farrow was gruff as he lifted the receiver. "Oh, yes... The garage, eh?... Sure. I ordered a car for

tonight... Yes. I'm going to drive over to Gwynnesborough... All right. Yes, half an hour will be soon

Twenty minutes later, Slade Farrow reappeared in the lobby. He sat beside the window and watched until a

sedan pulled up in front. A garage attendant entered the hotel. Farrow stopped him.

The attendant obeyed. Farrow walked out, stepped in the car, and noted that the motor was still running. He

shot it into gear and rolled along the main street in the direction of the railway depot.

Immediately the starter buzzed in the roadster across the street. The light car moved away, following the

course that Farrow had taken. Harry Vincent, standing in the lobby, strolled out to the street. He entered his

CROSSING the railway, with its station tracks and sidings, Slade Farrow opened up the motor. He smiled as

he found the sedan's speed. He swung along the open road that twisted until it neared the railway. At a

sixtymileanhour clip, he paralleled the tracks, going back beside the route on which he had arrived by

Farrow applied the brakes as the road dipped. He took the curve that went beneath the low railway bridge just

outside of town, then came up alongside the tracks and resumed his previous speed. The sedan responded

A man of photographic impressions, the exconvict knew the terrain. His idle watching from the Pullman

window had familiarized him with the contour of this road. The blazing path before the headlights came

streaming toward the car. Slade Farrow, by the prompt swiftness that he had shown, was far ahead of

The road swerved to the right as it approached a clump of woods. Farrow knew this turn. It was the spot

where the highway took an easy, sweeping arc to make the grade crossing at the near side of the high trestle.

With keen eyes, the driver had spied an opening in the trees. An old, rocky road, coming along the fringe of

the gulch, had joined the highway. This was something that Farrow had not observed from the train, due to

The shrieking brakes brought the sedan to a stop forty feet beyond the entering road. Shoving the lever into

reverse, Farrow shot the car backward. The rear tires jounced upon the rocks. Farrow did not desist. He ran

the sedan a full eighty feet back into the rocky road. He extinguished the lights.

Farrow stopped just as he was about to step from the car. He could hear the hum of a motor coming through

Watching toward the opening at the end of the rocky road, he saw a roadster hit the curve at rapid pace. The

Farrow chuckled as he alighted from the car. Again, he stood in silence as he caught another thrum. This time

a coupe shot by, also at high speed. When its tail light, like that of the roadster, had twinkled away beyond

THE exconvict seemed well satisfied with the spot that he had chosen for his car. Even though it was openly

upon the rocky road, it was safe from observation at night. The two cars that had passed were going away

from the hiding spot. Should cars come from the opposite direction, they also would fail to spy the sedan.

The peculiar curve of the highway took care of that. The rocky road came in at such an angle that any

headlights would sweep to the right of it. They would do no more than blaze the entrance to the abandoned

A flashlight glimmered as Slade Farrow picked his way through scraggly underbrush. The man was making

his way through the trees, toward the very edge of the ravine. At the same time, he was making forward

A narrow space scarcely thirty yards in width yet Farrow made excellent headway with his flickering

light. At last he reached the spot he sought. He stood at the very edge of the precipitous gulch, with the huge

Here it was that Farrow changed his course. His flashlight picked among the rocks. The glimmer showed an

angled patch of dirt that descended between two pinnacles. Gripping one rock, Farrow used his light to find

the way down to a flat rock that projected from the side of the gorge. He followed this narrow shelf toward

Half sliding as he clung to the shelf, Farrow reached a big boulder. From there, he managed to ease down a

short slant of clay that served as a path. The flashlight showed the dull, painted metal of a trestle post. Farrow

This post had been set in the side of the gorge. It towered fifty feet upward. It had crisscrossed bars. It was

connected with the next post by heavy iron beams, reinforced with xshaped wires.

Farrow extinguished the light and pocketed it. Gripping the post in the dark, he climbed it in ladder fashion.

His breath came heavily and tensely; on those occasions when he eased it, he could hear the babble of the

The climbing man had passed the first crossbeam. He had neared the second, about fifteen feet below the

top structure of the trestle when the blare of a locomotive whistle caused him to pause. The rails of the trestle

RAILS whined. The roar of the train came closer. The trestle trembled as a heavy locomotive thundered upon

it. A freight train ploughed overhead. Farrow could feel the heat from the firebox; then he listened and clung

Farrow was proceeding upward before the last car had left the trestle. Reaching the crossbeam, the climber

clung there, with his left hand. His right used the flashlight to probe the join of beam and post.

A hoarse expression of satisfaction came from Farrow's throat. His flashlight, wedged between the xslats of

Adjusting his position, Farrow thrust his left arm inward. His hand gripped cold metal. Twisting, his fingers

pried an object loose from its hiding place the depressed end of the huge iron girder that extended from the

The object was a metal box. Its top was locked. Less than twelve inches in width, its other dimensions

smaller, this article formed no troublesome burden. Moreover, it was fairly light.

Farrow's flashlight dropped into his pocket. Clinging to the box that he had found, he began the descent. His

find was under his arm. It did not handicap him. He reached the ground. He used his flashlight to pick his

The box went ahead. Farrow set it on the ledge above, then climbed to get it. He did the same with the

pinnacles. When he reached the top of the gorge, he started back among the trees to reach the hidden sedan.

In the car, Farrow wrapped the box in the paper that he had brought with him. He listened to make sure that

no automobiles were approaching. He started the motor, edged the sedan forward and turned on the

Here Farrow made a sharp Uturn. He swung the big car back in the direction of Southfield. The motor

purred as the sedan emerged from the woods and sped along the straight highway beside the railway tracks.

FARROW'S return was none too soon. Five minutes after his start on the homeward journey, the roadster

came sweeping back through the wooded highway. Its occupants had gone as far as Gwynnesborough. Losing

A few minutes after the sedan had swept by the opening of the rocky road, Harry Vincent's coupe came along

at a rapid clip. The Shadow's agent, too, had lost the trail. He had new business back in Southfield.

The garage man was taking away the sedan when Harry Vincent pulled up in front of the Southfield House.

The roadster had idled along the street to the Southfield Athletic Club. Its occupants had left it.

As Harry walked across the sidewalk toward the hotel, he heard, far away, the distant blare of a locomotive

whistle. The Night Express was coming into Southfield. Harry's face became grim. He sensed action in the

Strange events had brewed tonight. Slade Farrow's odd trip from town; the young men trailing him by

Harry Vincent, as he stepped into Room 301, still wore his steady look as he plucked a yellow telegram from

his pocket. The message was a simple one that had come from Rutledge Mann this evening. It gave

instructions to leave by the Night Express unless business could be done in Southfield.

Harry Vincent intended to stay; not because there was business in Southfield. The message had a significance

that only Harry understood. The reference to the Night Express meant an arrival, not a departure.

It was the secret statement that the Night Express would bring another personage to take up the work that

HARRY VINCENT had closed the door to Room 301. He was satisfied that Slade Farrow was in Room 309.

The man would keep until The Shadow appeared. Harry felt that the best plan was to lay low for the present.

Hence Harry had no track of events in the other room; nor did he have an eye out for activities in the hall.

In Room 309, Slade Farrow was standing by a bureau. He had unwrapped the package. The metal box

showed dull green against the oak woodwork. Rusted hinges of unpainted metal showed that the container

A crafty smile showed on Slade Farrow's firm face. That smile was a flicker of the past. The exconvict

looked like his former self. He was Sam Fulwell, living over that night in the penitentiary when Ferris

A shaft of moonlight came through the opened window. The dark, clouded night had changed. The silvery

beams cast a glow upon the floor beside the window a recollection of that same illumination which had

Slade Farrow's visage hardened. His expression might have meant that he felt remorse because his cellmate

was not here to share in the recovery of this box. On the other hand, it might have indicated a secret

satisfaction that Legrand was dead. Emotions were hard to trace upon Farrow's steadied countenance.

Whatever Farrow's feelings, one point was obvious. The exconvict had made use of the secret that Legrand

had revealed to him. The hiding place of the green metal box was the knowledge that the former merchant of

From his pocket, Slade Farrow removed a bunch of keys. These were of varied shapes and sorts, from heavy

instruments to thinbladed tools. It was one of the latter that Farrow used on the box. The lock refused to

Farrow produced a small oil can and introduced a few drops. Again he worked with the thinbladed key. The

A sheet of wadded newspaper showed inside the box. Farrow pulled it loose. He unfolded it, then tossed it to

the floor. It was here merely as protection to the documents that lay beneath. Farrow withdrew a long

envelope; then a folded paper that looked like a deed; next, a printed certificate.

A knock at the door. Slade Farrow's face showed perplexity. For a moment, the man hesitated; then, with

quick motion, he replaced the documents and closed the box. The lock closed automatically.

There was a closet near the door of the room. Farrow stepped in that direction. With his left hand, he thrust

the green box upon the shelf and toppled a hat over it. With his right hand, he unlocked the door of the room.

A STRANGER stood in view. The man was short, stocky and welldressed. His broad shoulders and heavy

hands were evidences of a powerful physique. His face, though squareshaped and brutal, showed a keenness

Farrow snapped the question as a challenge. The newcomer edged his way into the room and deliberately

"Not exactly," retorted Farrow. "I've just taken over an old business here in Southfield."

"I know it," asserted the stranger. "The Southfield Clothing Shop. That's what I've come to see you about."

"My business is my own," he growled. "You'll find out more about it after you've been around here a while.

Southfield is a place for straightshooters. You'd better be one if you want to stay here, Farrow."

Slade Farrow had backed leisurely across the room. His gaze was cold as he surveyed the intruder. He noted

that the man's eyes were glancing suspiciously about the place. Farrow indulged in a contemptuous smile.

"Who are you?" he cut in, with a voice as hard as the intruder's. "In places where I'm used to being, visitors

"Griffel is my name," returned the intruder. "Eric Griffel known as Griff. I'm a reception committee of one

in this town. I look over the palookas who blow in here. There's no phony customers in Southfield."

"And why," questioned Farrow, in a sarcastic tone, "have you come to regard me in the light of an

"I'll tell you why," retorted Griff. "The man who used to run the business you bought turned out to be a crook.

Farrow calmly seated himself in a chair and lighted a cigarette. Griffel lost no time in accepting the sarcastic

invitation. The broadshouldered intruder peered about the room, making no pretence in his action. Turning,

"Ah!" Farrow was ironical as he puffed at his cigarette. "You think I'm smuggling Chinese into Southfield,

"Never mind the lip." Griffel paused as he turned. "If you're on the level, you're welcome in Southfield. If

For a long instant the two men eyed each other steadily. The room was silent; then came the muffled clanging

of a locomotive bell the Night Express at the Southfield depot a few blocks away.

GRIFFEL turned as though about to leave. Almost by chance, his eye spied the crumpled sheet of newspaper

lying in the wastebasket. With a leap, the heavilybuilt man sprang forward and seized the telltale sheet. He

"This," snarled Griffel. His hand came from his pocket, bringing a revolver. "Move back there, wise guy.

Answer clean. Where did you pick up this newspaper a couple of years old? Down at Legrand's store?"

"You would make a competent detective," scoffed Farrow. "Your deduction, my dear chap, is quite correct. I

found that newspaper at my new store; I used it to wrap up a coat that I brought back with me."

"This paper?" ridiculed Griffel. "Maybe. Maybe not. Edge over to that wall. I'm taking a look in the closet."

Keeping his gun trained on Farrow, Griffel moved toward the closet. He yanked the door open and threw a

quick glance within. Farrow was watching him tensely. For a moment, the exconvict thought that the

intruder would not discover the box. Then Griffel, in another quick glance, happened to notice the odd tilt of

With a rapid move, the broadshouldered man shot his hand beneath the hat and came out with the green

metal box. A fierce grin appeared upon his face as he examined his find. His hard eyes focused upon Slade

Farrow shrugged his shoulders in resigned fashion. His voice was low and calm as he replied.

"If that's what you're after, you're welcome to it," asserted the exconvict. "I found it down in the basement

of the old store, while I was examining the furnace. I wondered what it was and I brought it up here."

Farrow's tone was convincing. Griffel pocketed his revolver and placed one hand upon the knob of the outer

"Legrand was a crook," he affirmed, coldly. "Anything like this doesn't belong to him and what doesn't

"If you know what's good for you, you'll attend to your knitting. Just forget that I ever came around here.

Griffel's growl broke as Farrow, with a sudden spring, came catapulting across the room just as the

broadshouldered man was opening the door. Before Griffel could yank out his gun, Farrow was upon him.

The green box bounded out into the hall and clattered on the floor as Griffel met the attack. For a moment,

Farrow's bulllike charge gave him the advantage. Griffel hurtled back against the wall inside the doorway.

They wrestled wildly. A chair bounced against the bureau. Griffel caught with a hold that raised Farrow

toward the ceiling and sent the exconvict in a heap upon the floor just within the doorway.

Leaping to the hall, Griffel grabbed up the box. Pulling his revolver from his pocket, he aimed savagely.

Murder was in his eye. Slade Farrow, senseless on the floor, was at the point of death.

BEFORE Griffel could press the trigger, a man leaped from a doorway down the hall. It was Harry Vincent.

The Shadow's agent had heard the commotion. He saw murder in the making. He was springing to the rescue.

A helpless man at the mercy of a potential killer was sufficient cause to intervene.

Griffel sensed the leap. He turned in time to meet Harry's onrush. His powerful shoulder caught The

Shadow's agent in the chest. Swinging his gun, Griffel grazed the top of Harry's head. The two men, locking,

The box shot from Griffel's arm and bounded down the steps. His left hand free, Griffel dealt a sudden blow

to Harry's chin. The Shadow's agent sprawled upon the floor while Griffel leaped madly down the carpeted

stairs. Rising groggily, Harry almost gained his feet; then slumped and lay in a daze. All was silent in the

There was an open exit to a fire tower at the end of the hall. It showed dull light from the city lights.

Suddenly, that low glow was blackened out. Two burning eyes stared from the darkness.

A figure emerged. It was that of a being garbed in black. The Shadow had arrived. Knowing that his agent

would be awaiting his arrival, the master of the night had chosen this means of entrance.

The black cloak swished as The Shadow advanced. He reached Harry Vincent's crumpled form and lifted the

husky young man with a single arm. Easily, The Shadow bore Harry through the open door into Room 301.

Moving swiftly, The Shadow headed for Slade Farrow's room. He bent above the unconscious form and

noted that Farrow, like Harry, was no more than stunned. Keen eyes spied the crumpled sheet of newspaper

upon the floor close by the wastebasket. A low laugh came from unseen lips as The Shadow stepped forward

The old newspaper passed out of sight beneath the folds of the black cloak. The Shadow's keen eyes noted the

hat in the closet, flopped upside down upon the shelf, where Eric Griffel had tossed it.

Another laugh a hollow whisper that made no more than a soft echo in that room where action had ceased.

The Shadow stooped and drew Slade Farrow's huddled form inward. The man moved slightly as The Shadow

The blackened figure reached the fire tower. It merged with outer darkness. The Shadow had arrived too late

to frustrate this quick pair of combats in which Eric Griffel had bowled out two antagonists.

Yet The Shadow had a clear idea of what had occurred. He knew that Slade Farrow had been robbed of

spoils. He knew that some powerful intruder had made a getaway. He knew that this combatant had broken

Avoidance of gunfire, in Harry's case, had been a natural move on Griffel's part. The intruder had gained

The Shadow was gone; not long afterward, the silhouette that marked his presence came stretching inward

across the lobby floor of the Southfield House. It was not a figure in black that cast that sinister streak of

He had chosen the guise of Lamont Cranston. Tall, welldressed and quiet of demeanor, he approached to

sign his name upon the hotel register. A bell boy was bringing in two suitcases which this new guest had left

Crime and countercrime! Such were the events that stalked in Southfield. Ferris Legrand's hidden treasure

had been uncovered by Slade Farrow. An intruder had wrested the find from the exconvict.

The Shadow knew the truth. He knew also that this could be but the beginning of a coming struggle. A man

It was The Shadow's game to wait. Here, in Southfield, he was prepared to solve the mystery of crime and

HARRY VINCENT awoke and rubbed his jaw. It was morning. Seating himself on the edge of the bed,

He remembered a battle in the hall. A knockout blow that had left him groggy. After that, he remembered

his return to consciousness. He had gone out into the hall, had seen no one, and had staggered back into his

Then to bed, still feeling the effects of the encounter. Harry was a trifle perplexed; moreover, he was fuming

An envelope fluttered to the floor. Harry reached down and plucked it from the carpet. He opened the

Instructions from The Shadow. Harry realized now that his chief must have arrived immediately after the

encounter in the hall. Harry tossed paper and envelope in the wastebasket. He dressed and left the hotel room.

It was shortly after noon when Harry strolled into a restaurant on the main street, almost directly opposite the

Southfield Athletic Club. As he seated himself at a table, Harry noticed a man sitting close by.

Husky and broadshouldered, his face hardened, this fellow impressed Harry at once. He was positive that

this was the man whom he had battled in the hall. He happened to meet the gaze of his exantagonist. Harry

This was logical. Harry had made the attack. His opponent had not caught more than a passing glance at

Harry's face. Harry turned his gaze in another direction and paid no attention to his erstwhile foeman.

THE broadshouldered fellow was leaving the restaurant as Harry approached to pay his lunch check. The

"So I can guess," laughed the manager. "Everybody in town knows that fellow. His name is Eric Griffel. We

"Husky?" The manager grinned. "He could lick any three men in this town. Don't ever pick a quarrel with

"Yes. A fine bunch of boys. We don't have any trouble with crooks here in Southfield. We've got a good

enough police force there's nothing against Chief Kerr, you understand but we owe a lot to Griff and his

"That's it. They don't get rough very often, though. They look over any strangers who arouse their suspicions.

Rowdies and bums don't stay long in Southfield. Smooth crooks keep away from this city, too."

Harry was still going over these remarks as he left the restaurant. This placed a new angle on the situation.

Harry knew that Slade Farrow was a man under suspicion. The Shadow had set Harry to watch the

Evidently Eric Griffel, local champion of law and order, had gained an inkling that Slade Farrow was of

criminal intent. Although he had not learned the reason for the quarrel between Griffel and Farrow, Harry

Strolling back to the hotel, The Shadow's agent seated himself at a writing desk in the lobby and inscribed a

short note with his own fountain pen. He went up in the elevator to the third floor; then took the stairway to

Under the door of Room 401 he thrust the sealed envelope which contained the report he had just prepared.

This was a message to The Shadow an aftermath of orders which Harry had received. He had been told to

Harry felt a sense of confidence to know that The Shadow was here in person. He was sure that The Shadow's

present personality must be an assumed one. Nevertheless, it was unusual for The Shadow to be as close to

his agent as this. Harry felt that it was a reward for his long period of faithful effort in The Shadow's service.

OUT on the street, two men were walking directly toward Eric Griffel as the latter was nearing the steps of

the Southfield Athletic Club. One of these men was Slade Farrow; the other was his attorney, Norton

"Hello, Griff," greeted Granger. "I want you to meet a client of mine Slade Farrow. He's just bought out the

"Glad to meet you, Farrow," expressed Griffel, extending a brawny arm. "Any friend of Norton Granger is a

"Glad to know you," said the exconvict. "Hope to see you down at the store, Griff."

The husky man smiled. Farrow countered with the same expression. Norton Granger seemed pleased at the

Not for one instant had Norton Granger suspected that these men had met before. He would have been

amazed had he known that the pair whom he had introduced had been engaged in violent conflict on the night

It was not until the young lawyer and his client were about to move along that evidences of antagonism were

A sneering leer appeared upon the face of Slade Farrow. It was the exconvict's expression that he feared no

future encounter. In return, Griff showed a warning stare, a token that his persistent vigilance would not

Although these signs were not noticed by Norton Granger, they did not escape a stranger who was passing. A

welldressed stranger, tall and of quiet demeanor, chanced to observe the trio. He was close enough to view

There was no change in the passer's expression. He sauntered up the street and crossed to the Southfield

House. As he reached the entrance of the hotel, he turned. A smile appeared upon his thin lips.

Eric Griffel was still standing on the steps of the athletic club. Slade Farrow was parting with Norton Granger

A soft laugh came from the thin lips of the observer. As Lamont Cranston, The Shadow had divined all that

was in the air. He had learned, in an instant, that Eric Griffel must be the man with whom Slade Farrow had

battled. He knew that Griffel must be suspicious of the exconvict; that Farrow, in turn, was ready to meet

The laugh died. With lips a straight line, his face almost expressionless, his tall form leisurely in gait, The

Men had met today. The Shadow had seen that meeting. He had learned facts which he sought, even before

EVENING had come to Southfield. Guests were lounging in the lobby of the Southfield House. Some were

Slade Farrow appeared in the lobby. He walked over to the desk and spoke to the clerk. His tone was loud

"I'm checking out tomorrow," informed Farrow. "Sorry to leave you, but I've got a little apartment over my

"Very well, Mr. Farrow," returned the clerk. "We hope you have enjoyed your stay here."

Farrow received the blank and wrote out his telegram. Just as he was finishing the message, another guest

stepped up to the desk to make an inquiry. It was Harry Vincent. The Shadow's agent had timed his arrival at

a moment when the clerk was busy. This gave him the opportunity he needed to catch a glimpse of the wire

The clerk came back to get the telegram, He read it aloud. Harry Vincent had strolled away. This time it was

"The message: Forty dollars most salary can offer. Stop. Thirty for competent helper. Stop. Wire when

Slade Farrow nodded and strolled away. A disappointed look appeared upon the lounger's face. The message

For that matter, it had seemed of little moment to Harry Vincent. The Shadow's agent, nevertheless, had

remembered it word for word. He was putting it down in special ink at a writing desk in the corner of the

A TALL figure appeared from the elevator. It was that of Lamont Cranston. The new visitor to Southfield

was attired in a perfectlyfitting tuxedo. His keen eyes roved easily about the lobby as he moved toward the

Those sharp optics saw the yellow telegraph blank in the clerk's hand. They caught Slade Farrow going

toward a chair; they observed the lounger strolling away; they spied Harry Vincent at the writing desk.

A thin smile appeared upon the chiseled lips as Lamont Cranston, his momentary pause scarcely noticed, kept

The wellattired millionaire hailed a taxi. He ordered the driver to take him to the Crucible Club. The man

nodded. He was not surprised that this tuxedoed stranger should be going there. The Crucible Club was the

The cab rolled a quarter of a mile and stopped before a pretentious building. Lamont Cranston alighted and

entered. He gave his name to the doorman and was promptly admitted. An attendant led him to a card room.

One, a tall, stoopshouldered man with gray hair, stepped forward with welcoming hand. His face gleamed

"Mr. Cranston!" he exclaimed. "I have been expecting you. I am Townsend Rowling."

Cranston nodded as he received the real estate promoter's handshake. Rowling turned to introduce the others.

"Meet Mr. Blogg," he said. "Rutherford Blogg our principal manufacturer here in Southfield. This is Hiram

Marker he owns the waterworks and the electric plant. This young man is Norton Granger, a promising

Lamont Cranston's keen eyes were surveying the men before him. Rutherford Blogg was a bulky,

heavyjowled individual whose face seemed as gray as his thin hair. His mouth had a fishlike droop.

Hiram Marker was a portly gentleman whose heavy gold watch chain rested wrinkled on his bulging vest. His

face was fat and pudgy. His head was bald except for tiny patches above the ears.

Lamont Cranston had seen Norton Granger before, nevertheless, he studied the young lawyer's face with new

interest. Granger had an affected air of professionalism. His boyish frankness was evident, however, to this

"Mr. Cranston is here from New York," informed Townsend Rowling, as he invited the visitor to a chair

beside the table. "He called me at the bank this afternoon. I arranged for him to come here this evening. Mr.

Cranston, gentlemen, is an investor who sees possibilities in Southfield territory."

RUTHERFORD BLOGG looked steadily at Cranston's calm visage. Hiram Marker furrowed his pudgy

"This meeting is a fortunate one," advised Rowling, as he turned from man to man. "I think that we three

Blogg, Marker and I are most well informed regarding conditions in this territory. Perhaps we can give him

"That depends." A thin smile showed on Cranston's lips. "I have many interests, Mr. Marker. I am associated

with numerous others. I have an uncanny ability for sensing business conditions in communities. Time and

"Theaters, for instance," returned Cranston. "Also automatic supplies. I have also found that farming

"None as yet," responded Cranston, quietly. "I like to spend some time in any district which I visit. Moreover,

I find it advisable to treat with local interests. Being long established, they are often amenable to plans for

"Southfield has passed the boom stage," observed Townsend Rowling. "Nevertheless, Mr. Cranston, this city

still presents great possibilities. We welcome you here and hope that you will enjoy your stay with us."

Conversation turned. It slipped away from local business and became a friendly discourse on matters

elsewhere. Chance questions directed toward Lamont Cranston received prompt replies. Little by little, the

It was late in the evening, when talk had waned, that Rutherford Blogg and Hiram Marker decided they must

leave. Lamont Cranston remarked that he was going back to the hotel. Norton Granger was prompt to offer

Shaking hands with the other men, Cranston strolled out with Granger. The pair entered the lawyer's car.

"In fairness to you, Mr. Cranston," he said, "I think you should know a bit about conditions in this town."

"Exactly. Let me enumerate. You spoke of theaters. Townsend Rowling is a real estate owner. Through that

connection, he controls the bank. He is also the real owner of both theaters that are located in Southfield."

"High rentals difficult conditions those would have brought receiverships. Rowling, as owner of the

properties, gained control. The theaters are paying now that they are under his wing."

"Indeed." Cranston's tone was thoughtful. "This is very interesting, Mr. Granger."

"Perhaps," continued the young lawyer. "you thought of automotive supplies because you noticed that local

agencies were very few. There is an answer. Rutherford Blogg cracks the whip so far as that form of business

"I suppose," remarked Cranston, in an amused tone, "that Hiram Marker controls the sale of farming

"He does," declared Granger. "That business is consolidated under the control of Marker's cousin a man

"Rather odd," mused Cranston, "that you should mention these facts. I supposed that these gentlemen were

"They are." Granger's tone was low as he stopped his car in front of the hotel. "I handle certain of their legal

affairs. What I have told you is no betrayal of confidence. I have merely stated facts which any man of your

"I merely wished to save you time and annoyance. If you intend to invest money in Southfield enterprises,

Mr. Cranston, I should advise you to treat with those three men. Make sure that they can share in any

ventures which you plan. Otherwise, you may find yourself against unexpected competition."

"I would not say that. Business men have a right to protect their interests. Those three have reached their high

estate through years of effort. They have chosen not to overstress their wideness of activity purely as a matter

"My father," resumed Granger, in a reflective tone, "was closely associated with their rise. I have often felt

that he used his influence to curb their policy. His sudden death was unfortunate.

"All three were inclined to grasping tactics. Those became more pronounced after my father was gone.

Perhaps Southfield has benefited by the domination of three men. It is difficult to decide just what is strictly

"I feel that Rowling, Blogg and Marker are inclined to oppose the intrusion of outside interests. They are the

rulers of this bailiwick. To be fair to them, I think that they might ordinarily warn a stranger to keep out.

"That, however, might be a bad move. Hence their disposition is always a friendly one; and newcomers to

Southfield have been unfortunate in business. That, Mr. Cranston, is all that I have to say."

Norton Granger extended his hand as Lamont Cranston alighted from the car. He received a firm grasp. He

caught a pair of keen eyes that seemed to stare through him. Then Cranston turned toward the hotel.

Norton Granger drove away. He felt a strange recollection of those eyes that had met his. Somehow, the

personality of Lamont Cranston, despite its quietude, had gained a domination over the young lawyer's

IN the darkness of Room 401, Lamont Cranston stood looking from the window along the main street where

late lights still glowed. Shrouded in darkness, he had become The Shadow. A piece of paper crinkled in

hidden hands. It was Harry Vincent's report which The Shadow had just read the coded statement regarding

The clothing shop down the street; the Southfield Athletic Club; these were buildings which The Shadow

noticed. His keen gaze terminated, however, upon a white, marblefaced building with bronzebarred

This was the Southfield Bank, owned by Townsend Rowling, biggest of the three. It stood like a citadel an

A soft laugh rippled through the room. Shuddering echoes answered, then died with ghoulish throbs.

A NEW night had come to Southfield. The main thoroughfare of the prosperous little city was a glitter of

light in which many strollers passed. Southfield drew evening crowds from the surrounding countryside.

Harry Vincent, walking quietly along the main street, approached the front of the Southfield Clothing Shop.

He paused to glance into the display window. Through the opened door, he could see Slade Farrow behind

Since Farrow had taken over the clothing shop, he had made changes in the business. The new merchant

seemed anxious to gain new trade. He had dispatched the two old clerks to other towns: one to

Gwynnesborough and the other to Galport. There he had opened small branch stores.

Two new hirelings had arrived. One was the man whom Farrow had wired in New York. This was David

Garvell, the big, blufffaced fellow whom The Shadow had heard Farrow address as Dave in a New York

The other was a man who had come with Dave. He was the pastyfaced chap now serving as clerk. Farrow,

when he spoke to this aid, called him Louie. Harry Vincent had not learned the new clerk's last name.

A light delivery truck reared up to the curb while Harry was standing at the show window. A big man

alighted and shouldered his way past Harry. It was Dave. Farrow had bought this truck to carry goods from

Harry was turning away when a new arrival came within his field of observation. It was "Griff" Griffel. The

husky head of the local athletic club was swaggering toward the clothing shop. In the offing were two other

Harry had not encountered Griffel since that night at the Southfield House. Quiet and inconspicuous, The

Shadow's agent had dwelt quite comfortably in Southfield. Hence, when Griff strode by and entered the

lighted store, Harry saw no danger in following. He strolled through the door and began to examine neckties

WHILE choosing neckties, Harry was a witness to all that occurred. He saw Eric Griffel approach Slade

Farrow. He noted Griff's friends lurking on the sidewalk outside. He observed Dave standing close at hand

"Hello, Farrow," greeted the husky man, in a tone that was somewhat cordial. "How are you finding

"All right, Griff," rejoined Farrow. "The way it's going, I'll be needing more help. I'm just waiting to see how

"Yes. One in Gwynnesborough; the other in Galport. Temporary leases. If they don't work out, I'll yank the

old clerks back here. If they go over, I'll hire some new clerks for this store."

Griffel nodded. He looked about and studied the stock approvingly. Slade Farrow was obviously making an

honest effort to do legitimate business. The big vigilante could find nothing to arouse his suspicions. He

"Meet Dave Garvell," introduced Farrow. "This is Griff, Dave. You ought to spend some time up at his

"I'm getting enough muscle," laughed Dave. "Driving between here and those other towns is plenty of work

"You're welcome up at the club," announced Griff. "Drop up there any time, Garvell."

Harry Vincent was completing his purchase of a few neckties. It was nine o'clock. Slade Farrow turned from

"Closing up for the night," he remarked. "You're not through yet though, Dave. You've got to run those boxes

of shirts over to Gwynnesborough. Get back in time to pick up the consignment of new suits that are coming

"I'll be back in the apartment. Take Louie along with you and I'll let you in when you ring at the delivery

Griffel was sauntering from the shop. Farrow picked up hat and coat and overtook the local husky. Together,

the pair strolled along the main street toward the athletic club. Harry Vincent left while Dave and Louie were

HARRY knew that Griffel and Farrow were enemies. He knew that neither had forgotten that episode in the

hotel. At the same time, Harry realized that both had found it wise to play a game in which their bitter

Griffel had gained his point in his battle with Farrow. The exconvict had no other course than to bide his

time and play the part of a reputable merchant. All the while, Griffel was on the watch. That part was

Was Farrow trying to square himself with Griffel? Or was he plotting some cunning scheme to get back at the

man who had conquered him and taken his spoils? Harry felt that the latter was the case. He realized that a

Griff Griffel could make no move against Slade Farrow so long as the new merchant kept above suspicion.

Farrow, in turn, could not act against Griff without jeopardizing his own position. This was why enemies

Other eyes than Harry Vincent's were watching Farrow and Griffel as the pair strolled along the main street.

In the darkness of Room 401, The Shadow was gazing keenly toward the thoroughfare below. He saw a pair

of loungers who followed in the wake of Griffel and Farrow. He watched Dave and Louie enter the truck and

Something scraped beneath the door. The Shadow turned and crossed the darkened room. He stooped and

picked up an envelope. A light clicked on; the shaded rays of a lamp showed only hands as The Shadow

opened the envelope. The message was in code, inscribed in ink of vivid blue. It was Harry Vincent's prompt

The writing vanished. The light clicked out. A period of silence followed. Then came a swishing sound. The

door of Room 401 opened and a spectral figure issued forth. In his garb of black, The Shadow was starting

out. The tall figure reached the fire tower. The Shadow descended. His shape merged with darkness and

followed a circuitous path along a back street. Phantomlike, The Shadow could move entirely unseen so long

He turned toward that thoroughfare, however, after he had traveled some distance under cover of darkness.

He had reached a spot just beyond the lighted zone. The Shadow crossed the main street unobserved; his

He reached a back street beyond and reversed his course. A few minutes later, The Shadow was nearing the

delivery entrance of Farrow's clothing shop. His figure eased against the brick wall.

TWO men were blundering through the dark. The Shadow could hear their lowtoned conversation. He knew

that these were other henchmen who served Griffel. At night, Farrow's place was under observation. Griffel

The delivery door of the clothing shop was heavily bolted. Farrow had taken pains to keep the place locked

tightly. The Shadow, however, had other means of entrance. He waited until the prowling watchers had

A squdgy sound came from the bricks. In the darkness, The Shadow's form moved upward. With rubber

A window yielded on the second floor. The Shadow's form entered. A tiny flashlight flickered; its

dollarsized circle of light was guarded. The rays could not be seen from the back street below.

A careful inspection revealed nothing. The Shadow unlocked the door and descended a pair of stairs that led

Telegrams lay upon a desk. These were the only documents of interest that The Shadow could find in the

small room with barred windows. A soft laugh came from the lips that were covered by the folds of the cloak

These messages told of incoming shipments. All were slated to arrive tonight, on the Night Express. This

The blackgarbed investigator found the delivery door. He produced a blackened pick and probed the lock of

a large door beside the closed entrance. The barrier opened to reveal a stairway to the basement. The Shadow

Store rooms windowless were located below. There were boxes and packing cases here. The Shadow

passed through the first room and opened the door to a small, inner compartment. This had a side door which

His inspection completed, The Shadow extinguished the tiny flashlight and started for the stairs. He paused

suddenly. His keen ears had detected a sound from above. A key was clicking in the lock of the door at the

As footsteps pounded on the steps, The Shadow edged back into the darkness. He reached the doorway from

the passage to the little room just as the arrival came to the bottom of the steps.

The approacher walked through the passage to the large store room. He switched on a light. The glow

revealed Slade Farrow. The exconvict glanced about to assure himself that all was in order. He did not see

the peering eyes that watched through the crack of the door from the little room beyond.

The Shadow had taken full provision for Slade Farrow's return. He had left no clew that would let the man

know an intruder had been here. Farrow turned and went back to the stairs, leaving the light on in the big

This time The Shadow waited. Shrouded in the darkness of the little room, he was prepared to play the part of

UP in the back street behind the Southfield Clothing Shop, Dave and Louie were unloading boxes and

packing cases from their truck. They had brought in the shipment which had arrived by the Night Express.

The delivery door was open. Slade Farrow was pointing his truckmen toward the stairs. His voice was plain

"That's all for tonight, boys," he asserted. "Leave the shipment in the store room and I'll lock up. Have the

A few minutes later, the bolts shot on the delivery door. The truck pulled away. Lurkers still prowled near the

back street. Griff's watchers had seen the unloading. It had been a regular delivery of goods.

Down in the basement store rooms, Slade Farrow entered and stood beneath the light. His shrewd face wore a

cunning smile, He studied the boxes that his men had brought in. Picking up a small crowbar, he pried away

The Shadow was watching and listening. His keen ears caught a trifling sound. His vigilant eyes saw the next

result. A figure arose from within the opened box. A tall, cadaverous man stepped lightly from the container

"Hello, Tapper," rejoined Farrow. "Get busy with that second case. I'll take the other."

Muffled tools pried open the indicated cases. Two men emerged, each from a separate box. "Skeets," like

"Tapper," was a shrewd, thinfaced individual, tall and stoopshouldered. The third man, "Hawkeye," was

Yet of the three, Hawkeye possessed the most striking characteristics. His face was wizened. It seemed

prematurely old. His eyes formed a marked contrast to the colorless appearance of his skin. They were quick

THE SHADOW knew these men. They were criminals who had served their terms; men who had vanished

from the bad lands after their commitments in Sing Sing. They were of different caliber than such secondary

henchmen as Dave and Louie, the two whom Slade Farrow had allowed to come openly to Southfield.

Tapper, in his heyday, had been one of the smoothest safecrackers in the business. Skeets, The Shadow

knew, had been a racketeer. Hawkeye had gained fame as a spy throughout the underworld.

The three had served varying sentences in prison. The Shadow had listed them as men to be watched when

discharged. All three, however, had retired to lives away from crime. Their whereabouts had become

They were in Southfield now these three men who had been rated as master crooks in the past. They had

come at the bidding of one man whom they recognized as their chief: Slade Farrow.

Watched in Southfield, Farrow had boldly introduced these three under the noses of Griff's henchmen.

Secretly he had gained the under cover aid of three men whose crimes had once bewildered the police force

The counterthrust was under way. The Shadow's belief that Slade Farrow was not through in Southfield was

"YOU'RE here." Farrow was speaking in a low tone to the three men who had perched themselves upon

boxes. "I've done plenty for all of you since you left the pen. You've wanted to pay me in return. This is your

Nods and pleased grins were the response. Despite their criminal propensities, these men seemed to possess a

"There's others that I might have picked." Farrow was stern in his statement. "I could have brought in a

bigger crew. But I chose the three of you. I've got work to do, from under cover.

"You know my rule. No questions asked. I'm going to put you to work in the lines that you know. The game

is mine remember that. There may be trouble; if there is, you take the chances along with me."

The prospect did not disturb the listeners. On the contrary, they stared at Farrow and registered pleased

"I'm running a clothing store here in Southfield," explained Farrow. "The business is on the level. Dave and

Louie are working for me. In the store and out, those two will look like me. We're honest people making

"Our job is to cover up. It's going to get hot before you three fellows have finished with what you're going to

do. Hotter and hotter. But you'll like it if I know you right. I figure the whole scheme is worth the risk."

Hawkeye made no reply. The little fellow's beady eyes were roaming about the room. He caught Farrow's

"The police force here," responded Farrow, "is insufficient. The town, however, boasts of a wiseacre named

Eric Griffel. He runs an athletic club which is the headquarters of men who act as vigilantes. They run crooks

"Those were the mugs that were watchin', eh?" sneered Hawkeye. "I mean the ones that were out back when

"Say" the little man's tone was scornful "you guys don't wise to nothin'. These boxes we were in have got

cracks in 'em, haven't they? Well don't you think I was wise enough to be lookin' an' listenin'?

"I spotted some boobs around that back alley. I was figurin' on somethin' like it. Why do you think the boss

"You're right, Hawkeye," spoke Farrow. "Griff's men are on watch. That's why I smuggled you through. I

know this fellow Griff, and he's keeping tabs on me. But I'm going right ahead and he won't stop us."

"I'll bet the same," added Skeets. "I'll bet that Hawkeye could even spot The Shadow."

The little man looked quickly at the speaker. His beady eyes showed nervousness. Grins faded as Hawkeye

"Say!" Hawkeye's whisper was hoarse as he addressed Slade Farrow. "The Shadow ain't in on this deal, is he,

"The Shadow's a tough bimbo to buck," warned Hawkeye. He arose from the packing case on which he had

been sitting. "I'm tellin' you, an' I know. Listen. When I went to stir, I was glad to get there. I've been glad

I've always been layin' low since. You ask me why? I'll tell you. Because of The Shadow."

"I was hooked up with some big shots," resumed the crafty little man. "I know who got 'em. It was The

"Me?" Hawkeye laughed nervously. "Say there ain't nobody knows who The Shadow is except The

"You mean," interposed Farrow, sternly, "that if The Shadow should appear in Southfield, you would refuse

"I ain't sayin' that, boss," pleaded Hawkeye. "Don't get me wrong. When I begin a job, I stick. I'm just tellin'

"That guy was due to get me once The Shadow was. I ain't boastin' when I tell you that I'm the one bird

keen enough to spot him. Maybe there was others like me if there was, they ain't around no more to brag.

"I ain't felt right since I got in this joint. It wasn't those hicks out in the alley that worried me, neither. I'm

tellin' you I get hunches that other people don't. There's somethin' about The Shadow just his bein' on the

"I'm suspicious of this joint. I ain't said nothin' yet, but I'm tellin' you that when I feel this way it means

As Hawkeye's sentence ended, there was a motion beyond the door to the next compartment. The watching

eyes of The Shadow disappeared from the crack. Yet not a sound marked his withdrawal.

HAWKEYE stared toward the door to the passage. Then, with a swift turn, he glanced toward the very door

that The Shadow had left. While the others watched, Hawkeye sneaked across the room and opened the door

of the smaller compartment. Light over his shoulder revealed the room as being empty.

The Shadow had reached the passage. While Hawkeye stared into the little compartment, The Shadow was

moving noiselessly toward the stairs. All backs were in his direction, for the other men were watching

When the little fellow turned back into the big room, he was again too late to spy The Shadow. The

messenger from the night had reached the steps and had glided upward. Hawkeye mopped his brow and

"Maybe I'm nervous," he admitted. "But that don't mean nothin' good. When I get that way, it's because I'm

"It felt like eyes were burnin' on me but it don't feel that way now. Just the same, boss" Hawkeye paused

to address Farrow in serious fashion "I'd like to look upstairs in this place. I ain't foolin' when I get

"All right, Hawkeye," agreed Farrow. "I brought you here to spot anything that might be wrong. You two stay

here, Skeets and Tapper. Hawkeye will go up with me; he'll be back after he's gone through the place

With Hawkeye at his heels, Farrow left the store room. He conducted Hawkeye to the little office, then let the

little man into the store, which was dimly illuminated by street lights that shone through the barred show

The next move was up the stairs to the apartment. Hawkeye prowled about in shady corners after Farrow had

The delay on the first floor had given The Shadow opportunity for departure through the apartment window.

Smoothly, he had made his way down the brick wall and off through the darkness of the back street,

Shortly afterward, burning eyes stared toward the Southfield Clothing Shop from the window of the hotel

room occupied by Lamont Cranston. The Shadow had returned to his temporary abode.

A soft laugh died in a suppressed whisper as The Shadow viewed the darkened shop that he had left. That

building harbored men competent of any crime Slade Farrow's three threats Tapper, Skeets and Hawkeye.

An idler passing on the street stared at the darkened store windows. Again The Shadow delivered a

Slade Farrow was playing an undercover game. He had deceived the vigilantes of Southfield. But he had not

IT was early the next evening. Dusk had arrived and a light was burning on the writing table in Room 401.

Seated in front of the table was a firmvisaged individual dressed in evening clothes. The Shadow was again

Two envelopes rested on the table. The Shadow opened each in turn. He read the coded messages and let the

One note was from Harry Vincent. The other was from a second agent who had arrived in Southfield. Cliff

Marsland, summoned from his usual habitat, the underworld of New York, was also on the job.

The Shadow arose from the table. In the leisurely fashion that was characteristic of Lamont Cranston, he

strolled to the window. A cigarette found its way between his thin lips, and was lighted with a hasty gesture.

The delivery truck was parked across the street in front of Slade Farrow's store. While The Shadow watched,

Dave and Louie appeared. They were carrying a packing case through the broad front door of the shop.

The pair set the big box in the truck. They went back into the store and returned, lugging another case. Again,

they made the trip. Once more a heavy packing case. Then both went back and came out on their final trip

A slight smile formed itself on the lips of Lamont Cranston. To this keeneyed watcher, the handling of that

fourth case was sufficient clew. It was obviously lighter than the others yet sufficiently heavy for a box

In the first three trips, Dave and Louie had carted out Farrow's hidden henchmen. The last trip was the only

The delivery truck pulled away. Loungers near the store paid no attention to it. Once again, Griff's vigilantes

had seen nothing. The Shadow still watched from the window. He saw a young man appear from the front of

A few moments later, another man slipped into view. This chap was huskier than Harry. He took the same

THE SHADOW'S agents were going to their posts. Crime foreboded. The departure of Farrow's truck was

proof of that. Although neither Harry nor Cliff knew its significance, The Shadow had ordered them to time

their departure to appointed spots with the moment that Farrow's truck left the store.

Slade Farrow had added new boldness to his methods. He had made this shipment in open view, scorning the

seclusion of the delivery entrance on the rear street. To a great measure, this was a better plan. It had proven

The Shadow turned and crossed the room. He extinguished the light and went into the hall. A few minutes

later, Lamont Cranston appeared in the lobby of the hotel. Strolling out to the street, he entered a coupe

parked there. It was Harry Vincent's car. The Shadow had taken it for his own use tonight.

Seated in the car, The Shadow gazed toward the whitened front of the Southfield Bank. He started the coupe,

drove down a side street past the marblefaced building, then turned toward the Crucible Club.

Satisfied with conditions in the neighborhood of the bank, Lamont Cranston was on his way to join the elite

at the Crucible Club. Arrived at his destination, he alighted and locked the door, after a glance at a small

LAMONT CRANSTON'S arrival was welcomed by three men whom he found in the card room. The trio

consisted of Townsend Rowling, Rutherford Blogg, and Hiram Marker. Cards were on the table. Lamont

"I don't agree with you, Hiram," persisted Rowling. "We all know that Ferris Legrand turned crooked. Yet as

lawabiding citizens it is our part to accept the decision of the law. Ferris Legrand was convicted for robbery

"Have it your way," asserted Marker. "in either event, I can't see why Norton Granger should be interested in

"She was an innocent victim," declared Rowling, in a pious tone. "The poor girl should not suffer for her

"Maybe you're right," agreed Marks, in a mollified tone. "Well Southfield has been free from crime since

"He heads our local athletic club," stated Rowling. "It is a commendable institution that keeps young men out

of mischief. Southfield is a crimefree town because we have a working corps of stalwart vigilantes, headed

"He was the man who trapped Ferris Legrand. We were short on police here in Southfield. When Wilbur

Granger, our most prominent attorney, was murdered several years ago, Griff led a group of deputies to his

home and surprised Ferris Legrand robbing the place. He later trapped Legrand with the stolen goods.

Legrand was sentenced for his crime. Griff became an active leader in the law and order movement. I have

"It seems to me," observed Cranston quietly, "that a larger police force would have been a better plan."

"Police can be fixed," returned Rowling. "Griff and his volunteers cannot. They have done remarkable

service. Less expensive than a larger force, the Southfield Athletic Club has done double duty. It has curbed

crime intent among our younger citizens and has lined up all of them for service in law and order."

Hiram Marker and Rutherford Blogg nodded approvingly at Townsend Rowling's words. Conversation

"Norton Granger swung that deal for Mildred Legrand," remarked the waterworks owner. "The girl obtained

"Yes," agreed Rowling. "This man Farrow took over the lease which I held. He appears to be doing good

"Not as yet," replied Rowling. "He is apt, however, to overestimate the possibilities of this territory. If he

Rowling's opinion was delivered in a casual tone. The bank owner intended one import to reach Lamont

BOTH meanings, however, were obvious to the keen mind of The Shadow. He remembered the statements

that Norton Granger had made regarding these three men who were rulers of Southfield.

Rowling was trying to discourage Cranston, who was in the city as a potential investor. He was also

endeavoring to allay any worries on the part of Blogg and Marker by intimating that Farrow, if successful in

An hour passed. Rutherford Blogg and Hiram Marker arose. Both stated that they were due at their respective

homes. In Southfield, a city of small size, the suburban districts could be reached very quickly. Although the

Townsend Rowling remained. A widower, with no children, he lived at the Crucible Club. As he chatted with

"Why don't you come up here to live?" he queried. "You will find it more pleasant than the hotel."

"Perhaps I may do so later," responded Cranston. "For the present, I am staying at the hotel because I have

given it as my local address. I am expecting calls from there tonight. I am apt to receive telegrams from New

"Ten thirty," observed Rowling, glancing at his watch. "Getting rather late for business calls."

"I think I shall call the hotel," decided Cranston. "Perhaps they have neglected to forward any messages."

Rising, Lamont Cranston strolled out into the lobby of the club. He entered a phone booth to apparently make

a call. He stepped out and took a chair in the lobby. To all appearances, the line had been busy.

Actually, this had been a pretext to move away from Townsend Rowling. The local bank owner, coming from

the card room, had encountered friends exactly what The Shadow had anticipated. Townsend Rowling had

The bell rang in the phone booth. The doorman saw Lamont Cranston rise to answer it. He supposed that this

"Hello." The greeting came in the voice of Lamont Cranston. "This is the Crucible Club."

"I want to speak with Mr. Cranston." It was Cliff Marsland on the wire. "Is he there?"

"Report." The word came in a whisper from the lips of Lamont Cranston. Its tone was the sinister note of The

"All quiet," came Cliff's information, "Hiram Marker came in half an hour ago. It doesn't look as though this

Lamont Cranston's tall form cast a weird silhouetted shadow upon the floor of the lobby as the New Yorker

emerged from the phone booth. Cliff Marsland's report had been due at half past ten. So had Harry Vincent's.

FOR tonight, Cliff and Harry were each watching a strategic spot. The Shadow had decided that one of two

places would be picked for crime. Those places were the homes of Rutherford Blogg and Hiram Marker.

Outside of Townsend Rowling, those two were the only men of wealth and importance in Southfield. Their

homes were the ones that criminals would pick. Slade Farrow's trio of assembled crooks had gone out on

Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland after half past ten, one was sure to be safe. That would be the first man to

call; and Cliff had telephoned, some minutes later. There was no use waiting for a call from Harry Vincent.

The Shadow had dispatched Cliff to that job. His own action was to follow. The doorman looked up as

Lamont Cranston approached. He heard the New York millionaire speak in a quiet tone.

"I am going back to the hotel," came Cranston's words. "Inform Mr. Rowling if he asks for me."

The clerk nodded as Cranston strolled from the Crucible Club. Cranston unlocked his coupe and entered. His

Again, this personage who played the part of Lamont Cranston was assuming the sinister garb of The

RUTHERFORD BLOGG'S home was a hedgesurrounded mansion on the outskirts of Southfield. Harry

Vincent, watching for events here, had stationed himself within the hedge, at a secluded corner.

He had seen Rutherford Blogg come home in a taxi. Still watching, Harry had glanced at the luminous dial of

It was then that Harry had decided upon a rapid inspection before putting in his call to The Shadow. There

was a filling station not far from Blogg's home. It would serve as the place from which to phone. With this

Creeping along through darkness, Harry had reached a sun porch at the side of the building. A trelliswork

went upward to the second floor where a lighted room proclaimed Blogg to be present. It was by the shelter

Someone was on the side lawn. Harry could hear the motion of cautious figures. He could not make out men

in the gloom, but from whispers that he caught, he decided that the group must consist of three.

A warning utterance. Motion stopped. It became a waiting game. Seconds ticked by into minutes, while

Harry Vincent, crouched by the sun porch, watched the darkness. Three men somewhere near the house

A wiry man leaped from the lawn and landed on Harry with a ferocious plunge. The Shadow's agent

sprawled. Clutching hands grasped his throat. Gasping, Harry slumped helpless. He had no strength to cry out

THE man who had made the sudden onslaught knew how to gag a victim. A guarded light flickered above

Harry's eyes as two other men approached. Halfconscious, Harry dimly caught the muffled conversation

"I could hear him breathin'. That's why I told you to wait, Skeets, while I snook up on him."

"Leave him here. You know the orders. We're after the gravy not out to give a guy the bump."

Craftily, the little crook climbed the trelliswork. He found it strong enough to bear his weight. He knew that

it would do for the others also. He reached a flattopped roof, surrounded by a rail. Hawkeye climbed over

and snapped his fingers above the ledge. It was the signal to come on. The others followed.

On the roof, the silent trio could see through the lace curtains of a pair of French windows. They were

looking into Rutherford Blogg's bedroom. The manufacturer was seated in shirt sleeves, going over papers at

a table. The watchers saw that the heavyjowled man was well away from the French windows.

Tapper produced a jimmy. His assumption that the doors were locked was correct. The workmanship that

followed was a tribute to Tapper's skill. Prying noiselessly, the jimmyartist managed the locks so cleanly

that Rutherford Blogg did not notice the noise until Tapper was ready for the final twist.

As the manufacturer sprang to his feet and faced the window, Tapper forgot caution to deliver a final pry. The

windows snapped open. As Tapper swung aside, Skeets, his face masked with a blue bandanna, leaped across

Blogg's gray face whitened. The manufacturer nearly slumped as he backed toward the wall. Skeets

approached him; Hawkeye, also masked, remained just outside the windows, ready to aid Skeets if necessary.

Blogg was completely cowed. Hence Hawkeye made no effort to join Skeets. He stepped aside to allow

Tapper to enter. The jimmyworker had adjusted a handkerchief to hide his features. He strode into the room

Tapper was looking for something. This room was paneled, with wallpaper above. At no spot could Tapper

spy a possible opening. This was the cue for Hawkeye's entrance. The little crook prowled into the room and

The manufacturer, when he had steadied himself with upraised arms, had shifted slightly sidewise. Hawkeye

had discerned this move. He thrust out an arm and sent Blogg sprawling into a corner. He rapped his fist

against the paneled wainscoting, just behind the spot from which he had shoved the manufacturer.

Cowering under cover of the gun which Skeets held, Blogg saw Tapper approach the place that Hawkeye had

indicated. The big man rapped the panel also. He chuckled. He jammed his jimmy against the paneling, and

With the same system that he had used in opening a packing case in Farrow's basement, Tapper splintered the

ANOTHER chuckle. Tapper knelt beside the strongbox and began work upon the dial. Rutherford Blogg had

evidently counted as much on concealment as on the strength of the safe, for the device was by no means

Tumblers dropped under Tapper's skillful touch. The door of the safe swung open toward Rutherford Blogg.

The manufacturer, turning his bloated gaze in that direction, could not see the actual rifling.

Tapper had produced a bag. He was shoveling the spoils into it while Hawkeye looked on. Cash bonds and

certificates these were coming into view. Hawkeye pounced upon new stacks of papers and handed them

The work was quick. Within a few brief minutes, the safe was devoid of contents. Tapper swung the heavy

door nearly shut. He picked up the bag and was about to move toward the flat roof when Hawkeye stopped

On the ground below, Harry Vincent was gasping as he struggled with his bonds. He had managed to roll

away from the wall and was lying prone upon the ground. He heard footsteps thudding close by. A flashlight

A low exclamation. Harry recognized the voice. It was Cliff Marsland. Sent here by The Shadow, the second

agent had discovered the plight of the first. Bringing out a knife, Cliff cut Harry's gag.

"Look out!" Harry gasped the warning as Cliff was about to loose the ropes. "They're in the house three of

Cliff stared straight up. He heard a sound from above. He leaped quickly away from the wall, dropping the

knife as he reached for an automatic. He was just in time. Hawkeye had arrived at the rail.

The quick little crook had heard the sounds below. Revolver in hand, he spied Cliff out upon the lawn. His

warning cry came to Tapper and Skeets as they were at the doorway, Tapper carrying the bag, Skeets backing

Cliff Marsland had stepped into too much light. He was on the fringe of the illumination from the second

story. Hawkeye, though warned by Slade Farrow to avoid gunfire, had no other choice.

"Through the house!" This was his warning to Tapper and Skeets as he swung the muzzle of his revolver

The little crook was beating Cliff to the shot. Revolver barrel upon the rail, he was pressing finger to trigger

as he heard Tapper and Skeets scramble through Blogg's room. Then, with a sudden twist, Hawkeye suddenly

Governed by sudden impulse, the crafty crook had given up his perfect opportunity to shoot down Cliff

There was an answer. It came with a resounding report from the hedge across the lawn. Almost at the instant

of Hawkeye's drop, the flash burst and a simming bullet skimmed the rail to flatten itself against the wall of

With perfect marksmanship, he had aimed a long range shot to beat Hawkeye to the finish. Had the little

crook remained the fraction of a second longer, he and not Cliff Marsland would have fallen with a bullet in

Hawkeye, gazing toward Cliff and beyond, had caught the movement of the hedge. He had seen neither the

gun nor the blackgloved hand that had wielded it. Yet the quiver of the brush had told him of a menace.

Cliff Marsland opened fire at the rail above. Hawkeye, squirming like a snake, shot through the opening into

Blogg's room. Cliff was delivering the hopeless volley. Hawkeye's body, flat upon the roof, was too low to be

Wriggling sidewise into the room, Hawkeye gained his feet. Rutherford Blogg, inspired by the rattle of the

automatic, came plunging upon the wiry crook. Hawkeye's gun swung up. The crook could have shoved the

muzzle into Blogg's paunch. Instead, he swung past and delivered a backhand blow.

Hawkeye's fist, tight about the revolver barrel, caught Blogg squarely in the jaw. The weight of the hand

added impetus. Blogg floundered to the floor as Hawkeye scrambled off through the house.

Servants were shouting from down stairs. They had heard Tapper and Skeets dash out by that direction, with

Hawkeye kept on across the second floor. A woman screamed as he dashed through a darkened room.

Gaining the open window, Hawkeye shot through. His hands gripped the sill; then loosed their hold. The

A car was starting on the other side of the hedge. The invaders had used good judgment by approaching the

Springing through the hedge, Hawkeye gained the runningboard of a moving touring car and blurted out his

The car shot off a street to the right. Skeets was steady at the wheel. Tapper was chuckling. Hawkeye, the last

BACK on the lawn beside the sun porch, Cliff Marsland was standing in momentary consternation at the

confusion which his shots had produced. Cries were coming from the mansion. Lights were flashing on. At

any moment, people would be here. Cliff realized the predicament. He was about to leap forward to aid Harry

Cliff turned and hurried across the lawn. It was The Shadow who moved to Harry's rescue. He did not pause

to release his agent. There was no time for delay. The shrill siren of a police car was sounding from the town.

Gathering Harry like a padded sack, The Shadow swept speedily across the lawn. He reached the hedge and

broke through. Cliff Marsland was at the wheel of the coupe. He had started the motor.

The coupe shot away. Cliff took a direction away from town. He drove rapidly for five minutes, then eased

"I'm driving out of town," remarked Cliff to Harry. "Taking the road to Galport. We can head back later."

Back by the hedge, The Shadow was waiting. His tall form was invisible in the darkness. His sharp eyes

viewed the lighted house. Bright lamps were aglow along the drive. They had been switched on from within.

A police car whirled up to the front. Two men in uniform alighted. Then came new throbs as a trio of

roadsters arrived in quick succession. The Shadow saw Eric Griffel and half a dozen men pile out to join the

Such was the law in Southfield. The vigilantes, at the heels of the police, provided heavy reinforcements.

More cars were coming. Men were flocking out upon the lawn. The Shadow turned. His tall form disappeared

Less than an hour later, a figure stood within the window of Lamont Cranston's room. The eyes of The

Shadow, peering keenly, saw Slade Farrow's delivery truck come coasting along the main street, turn a corner

and swing to reach the delivery entrance at the back of the store. Piled boxes showed in the rear of the truck.

A soft laugh came from hidden lips. Griff and his men had not returned from the scene of the crime. They

Meanwhile, the swag had come to its destination. The Shadow knew where he could find it when he so

desired. Raiders with their spoils had come back to roost in Slade Farrow's store room.

THREE days had elapsed since the robbery at Rutherford Blogg's. Southfield was in turmoil over the

successful foray by a trio of masked crooks. Squads of vigilantes, mustered in as deputies, were on patrol. No

No one knew the exact extent of Rutherford Blogg's loss. It was said that the manufacturer had parted with a

bundle of cash and negotiable securities. More than that, the robbers had taken various documents that Blogg

was anxious to recover valuables that could be traced and which would be of no value to the thieves.

The looting of Blogg's safe was the sole topic of conversation about town. Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland

heard it everywhere. Fortunately, they, like Lamont Cranston, were too reputable in appearance to be

Slade Farrow, in his store, chatted with customers and heard their theories. Since it was known that Farrow

had bought out the business with cash, he, too, was above suspicion. There was one man in Southfield who

might have picked Slade Farrow as sponsor of the crime, but that lone individual had very good reasons for

Eric Griffel was the man. Oddly, his previous suspicions of Farrow were the reason why he was lulled at

present. Through his vigilantes, Griffel had been keeping close watch on Slade Farrow. As a result, Farrow

The exconvict had been watched constantly on the night of the robbery. He had been at the Southfield

House until an hour after the commotion at Blogg's; then he had gone to his store to open the delivery

Farrow had played a clever game one far too subtle for Griffel to discern. The very openness of his

methods had been Farrow's safeguard. Griffel, though still watchful, was not ready to risk a challenge. So far

as Farrow was concerned, he kept vigilantes on duty watching the new merchant. That was all.

When he dropped in to see Norton Granger regarding the bonding of the clerk whom he had sent to

Gwynnesborough, Farrow was not surprised when the young lawyer turned to the present topic of

GRANGER held to the theory that a band of outoftown crooks had invaded Southfield and departed with

Farrow agreed with Granger. Their talk turned to the clothing business. Farrow expressed satisfaction with

"That store was a good buy, Mr. Granger," he declared. "So much so that I really feel I should not have

obtained it at so low a price. Inasmuch as I reserved certain rights in making the purchase, I feel that I have a

The exconvict drew a piece of paper from his pocket and laid it upon the desk. Norton Granger stared in

"What does this mean?" questioned the attorney. "You have completed the payment for the business."

"An additional amount," returned Farrow, with a smile. "It indicates my full satisfaction with the buy. I trust

"This is fine of you, Farrow!" exclaimed Granger. "It well, it means a lot to me. I have seen Mildred a few

times since you bought the store. I know that my effort on her behalf has done much to end her former feeling

"I think she doubted that I could be well disposed toward her. The crime which her father committed against

mine still continues as a barrier. It has lessened since you bought the store. Perhaps "

"Perhaps," interposed Farrow, dryly, "it will lessen further if you are willing to take credit for obtaining this

additional amount. Simply say that you talked it over with me; that you convinced me that the store was

With this parting remark, Farrow strolled from the law office leaving Norton Granger in bewildered delight.

The exconvict smiled as he reached the street and turned back toward the clothing store.

Farrow's smile went through slight changes as the man walked along the street. Passing Griff near the steps of

the Southfield Athletic Club, Farrow waved a greeting. Griff's nod in response was the cause of Farrow's first

change of expression. The next came when he saw his own truck pull up at the door of the clothing store.

Loadings and unloadings had become an accepted routine at Farrow's store. Light deliveries at the back;

heavy ones at the front. Such was the procedure, and it was so natural that Farrow had no worries concerning

IT was after dusk when Lamont Cranston strolled from the Southfield House and hailed a taxicab. Farrow's

truck was absent when the cab rolled by the store on its way to the Crucible Club. Arriving at his destination,

Cranston looked for Townsend Rowling. The bank owner was absent; so was Rutherford Blogg. Hiram

"Terrible," confirmed Marker, in a serious tone, as they seated themselves in the lounge. "This robbery at

Blogg's was an outrage. No trace of the criminals. I doubt that the miscreants will be found."

"Because," asserted Marker, "they would be fools to tackle Southfield again. The only satisfaction that can be

gained from their raid is that we are safe from crime for a while. No other crooks would risk a second attempt

"At home, I believe," declared Marker. "Rowling is at the bank, I understand. I expect to go to my own house

"I should be pleased," rejoined the New Yorker. "I must call the hotel first so that I can be reached if any

FIFTEEN minutes later, Hiram Marker and Lamont Cranston reached the big mansion owned by the

Southfield nabob. Marker was a bachelor. His niece and nephew lived at the house; they dined with their

uncle and his guest. To Lamont Cranston, it was apparent that no love was lost between this pair and their

Marker conducted Cranston into a sumptuous groundfloor study. While they were lighting cigars, Cranston

observed the door of a vault situated in an alcove. He made no comment. Instead, he questioned Marker

"My sister's children," explained Marker, sourly. "I was appointed their guardian. It is a thankless task, as

"He was successful," responded Marker, in an uneasy tone. "He owned the local electric plant; after his death

it was mismanaged. My sister was very ill she died within the year and the business would have been a

"Fortunately, I was able to supply funds to save it. I took over the stock it was almost worthless at the time

Marker did not catch the irony in his guest's tone. Cranston could see the lack of sincerity which governed

Marker. He knew well that the wealthy man had probably made enormous gain through the transaction.

The telephone bell rang on Marker's desk. The waterworks owner answered it and passed the telephone to his

"Hello." Cranston's voice was quiet. "I see... Yes... You will be there all evening... I understand... Yes...

Thank you for calling... No, never mind calling me when they leave... If there is anything else important,

BACK at the hotel, Cliff Marsland hung up the receiver. He turned and shrugged his shoulders as he faced

Harry Vincent. The two agents were in Room 301. Across the street they could see Dave and Louie loading

"We're to stay here," declared Cliff. "Keep on the lookout for anything unusual."

Slade Farrow was locking up his store. Cliff and Harry saw the man stroll down the street toward a theater.

The loading of the truck was completed. Dave took the wheel with Louie beside him and the vehicle pulled

New crime was coming. Strolling vigilantes who watched Slade Farrow had no inkling of it. Harry Vincent

Only The Shadow foresaw the facts of coming crime. He was at the spot where it was due to strike!

HIRAM MARKER was loquacious as he chewed the end of a fat cigar. The baldheaded man of wealth had

reverted to the subject of robbery at Rutherford Blogg's. He was soliloquizing on his friend's stupidity.

"A house full of servants!" he exclaimed. "Yet they let three men go in there and open a safe like it was a toy

"They never should have made a getaway," decided Marker. "Fancy it out through the side door and away

"Well" Marker smiled sourly "it was Blogg's own fault. Counting on an oldfashioned safe up in his

"So it was. In the very place where they would be apt to look for it. I don't blame Blogg for keeping valuables

Marker led the way to the alcove. He pointed out a massive vault door, set in a steel frame. It was locked with

"Seventyfive hundred dollars," boasted Marker. "That's what I paid for the door alone. The framework is

set in concrete. No smart crook is going to open that door. It's one that used to be in the old bank. I had the

"Rowling has one like it at the bank," declared Marker. "He uses it for special funds apart from the big

vault that the bank uses. His smaller vault is in the basement. Of course, he has time locks. Now my vault "

Marker had turned while he was speaking. He was facing the doorway of the room, beyond the spot where

Lamont Cranston was standing. The baldheaded man broke off suddenly. His lips moved but gave no

Cranston turned toward the door. He saw what had caused his host's consternation.

WITHIN the study were three men, all masked with bandanna handkerchiefs. Two were tall; one was short.

Marker's arms went up as though impelled by a spring. Cranston's followed at a leisurely speed. The New

Yorker's calmness was unruffled. He eyed the intruders almost casually. As The Shadow, he had seen these

"Keep them covered." Tapper was speaking to Skeets. "Come along" this to Hawkeye "while I crack this

Skeets motioned with his revolver. Hiram Marker, pale and scarefaced, moved away from the vault door.

Lamont Cranston's tall form remained motionless. His eyes were focused upon Skeets. The man with the gun

did not meet the gaze. He did not realize that those eyes were studying opportunities. A quick spring all

would be up with Skeets. The exracketeer did not know that one of those whom he was covering was The

Hawkeye turned suddenly. The little crook's revolver flashed into view. Hawkeye became tense as he noted

"Cover old Moneybags," growled Hawkeye, to Skeets. "I'm takin' care of this guy. There's two of 'em. That

Skeets complied. He had a respect for Hawkeye's intuition. While Skeets covered Marker, Hawkeye stepped

back and kept his gun pointed at Cranston's tall form. Hawkeye's gaze was unrelenting.

Some hunch had told the little crook that this calmfaced personage was a menace. Crafty to the utmost,

Hawkeye intended to leave no loophole for an escape. His finger rested on the trigger of his gun.

Lamont Cranston appeared unperturbed. His first glance told that Hawkeye's vigil would be a steady one.

Cranston's head turned. His eyes watched Tapper, as though interested in the safecracker's boasted

Hawkeye had stated that he had once trailed The Shadow. Had he noted the glint in Cranston's eyes, he might

have had a recollection of the past. The firm, chiseled countenance with its aquiline nose was unfamiliar,

Tapper was finding the vault formidable. His growl showed his disapproval. He worked on the combination

"Yeah?" The interruption came from Hawkeye. The little crook spoke while his eyes remained fixed upon

Cranston's profile. "That ain't goin' to be a job. I'll tell you the way out. Work on Moneybags."

The exracketeer nodded. He jammed the muzzle of his revolver into Marker's bulging stomach. The fat man

Marker's lips moved. Tapper caught their mumble. He chuckled when Marker had finished. Tapper stepped

back to the vault. He worked on the combination. He revolved the wheel and raised the bar. The heavy door

LAMONT CRANSTON'S eyes were watchful as Tapper produced a bag. He saw stacks of banknotes drop

into the sack. He noted that Tapper, though working swiftly, was examining all the swag. A bundle of bonds

dropped into the bag; then odd lots of documents. Tapper picked out a small stack of papers encircled by a

Tapper finished the job in a hurry. The vault rifled, he bundled up the bag. Cranston's eyes were upon Hiram

Marker. The baldheaded man's face was ashen. Skeets had stepped back. His manner was no longer

"Take the money!" pleaded Marker. "Take the bonds but but you can't use the rest "

"Wait a minute," Hawkeye interrupted. "We're not goin' to blow too quick. We don't want no trouble comin'.

"Don't go goofy," snarled Hawkeye, speaking to Marker while he still watched Cranston. "They'll be here to

help you. We'll see to that. You can tap the combination when they come. We've got what we want that's all

Marker backed into the vault. He dropped to the floor of the little room and sank cowering. He was gasping

A thin smile appeared upon Lamont Cranston's lips as Hawkeye threatened with the gun. Marker's guest

stepped lightly back into the vault. Even then, Hawkeye did not relax his vigilance. He motioned to Tapper to

close the door. The big fellow obeyed. It was not until the huge barrier had swung into position that Hawkeye

"Jam that bar," ordered Hawkeye. "We can fire a shot when we scram. That will bring somebody in."

"Yeah?" Skeets objected. "You know what the boss told us about raising a racket."

"Well, what of it?" retorted Hawkeye. "We're not goin' to let those mugs smother. We've got plenty of time

"Call up on the phone," suggested Tapper, as he pressed against the bar to clamp it into place. "From that

store a block down. One of the servants will come to answer it. I'll give him the combination over the wire."

Tapper began to fume. He could not get the bar to wedge. He had closed the vault door tightly. Yet the

"Scram then," ordered Hawkeye. "I'll cover from the door. They'll be scared to move for a while. Get goin'

Tapper picked up the bag. Accompanied by Skeets, the safecracker hurried from the study. Hawkeye stood

at the door, staring as steadily as he had before. He could picture that calm countenance of Lamont Cranston

Half a minute passed. The throb of a motor sounded outside. Hawkeye turned and dashed away. Twenty

MORE minutes ticked past. The vault door swung open. Lamont Cranston's tall form stepped into the study.

The millionaire's lips wore a smile as his eyes turned toward the huddled form of Hiram Marker.

Marker scrambled to his feet. He staggered into the study. He stared at Cranston.

"I did," was Cranston's quiet reply. "An excellent vault you have here, Marker. I took your word for it." He

stooped and picked up a paper match that lay at the bottom of the framework. "I dropped this from my pocket

while the door was closing. I think a pencil shaving would have done as well. The slightest obstruction will

Hiram Marker stared dumfounded at Lamont Cranston's casual explanation. Then, suddenly, the baldheaded

There was a sharp click at the other end of the wire. Marker jiggled the hook excitedly. He began to blurt out

A servant came running into the study. He had heard the loud phone bell and the cries which Marker had

The thin smile showed on Lamont Cranston's lips. The Shadow had divined the meaning of that interrupted

call. He had pieced the sequence of events the method that the escaping robbers had decided upon to free

their prisoners. Even though they had not locked the vault door, they had taken a precaution. Robbery, not

The Shadow had played a passive part tonight. He had divined, from a study of the robbery at Blogg's, that

the trio who served Slade Farrow were under orders not to kill. The Shadow had chosen to appear as a chance

Moreover, he had studied the methods of the crooks. He knew where their swag was going. He had formed

plans that concerned its recovery. These were reasons for the thin smile; there was another reason also.

Hawkeye, the keenest crook of the lot, had shown intuition when he had picked Lamont Cranston as a

menace. It was a recollection of the past a hunch that Hawkeye had gained but had been unable to explain.

Hawkeye had met The Shadow; he had sensed the spectral master's presence, but his hunch had gone no

Hawkeye, shrewd though he was, had not penetrated The Shadow's guise. He had failed to identify Lamont

"FIFTEEN men are all I have on the force. No wonder there's been crime in Southfield."

The speaker was Police Chief Alexis Kerr. Attired in uniform, he was seated at his desk in the city hall,

Townsend Rowling was directly opposite Kerr. Beside him were Rutherford Blogg, Hiram Marker and

Norton Granger. A short distance away, Lamont Cranston viewed the scene as spectator. Eric Griffel and

"You two have been robbed." Kerr wagged a pencil first at Blogg, then at Marker. "Now, Rowling, you come

here and say that crime must stop. I say, give me a force of fifty men. That's what Southfield needs."

"You've talked that for two years, Kerr," retorted Rowling. "All the while, Southfield has been free from

crime. Why? Because of Eric Griffel and the work that he has done. You ask for fifty men. Griff can give you

"Swear in the lot. Let Griff pick them. Not the youngsters, but men who can do the work. Some of those who

The police chief grunted. He stared toward Griff and the three men who were with him.

"Who's police chief in this town?" he demanded. "Am I or is Griff? He's here with his three lieutenants.

"Kerr," declared Rowling, in a serious tone, "this is an emergency. It is no time for animosities. You and

Griff have no quarrel. I have influence in Southfield. So have these men with me. Let us make a sane

"Give Griff and his picked crew the authority that they require. We want armed guards about this town. Let

us set a time limit on the arrangement. When that is up, you will have two hundred experienced men to pick

"Then we can choose new members for your force. Have the fifty that you think you need. Southfield can

stand the expense. Norton" Rowling turned to young Granger "I am instructing you to draw up the

"You're talking something different," decided Kerr, in a mollified tone. "That's an arrangement that ought to

work. There's only one question. If we have to wait to build up the force, what about the salaries of these

"I shall defray all expenses," announced Rowling, seriously. "Kerr, these crooks are out to grab all they can.

"I need armed guards there. Twenty men at least. Five times that number in the vicinity. I'll pay for it, at

"Yes. Your force has other duties. You are a busy man. Griff and his men will have one objective. I can

"You're going at it big," said Kerr, with a shake of his head. "It's agreeable to me, though. It will be some

time before the city council will authorize the fifty men that I require. Since you promise them and I've

Townsend Rowling arose with a satisfied air. He turned to Norton Granger, to give the young lawyer definite

"Arrange this promptly," ordered Rowling. "I want those men on duty before tonight. Properly deputized, you

understand. Swear in Griff and his three lieutenants for a starter; give them the power of control that they

THREE men accompanied Rowling from the city hall. They were Rutherford Blogg, Hiram Marker and

Lamont Cranston. Blogg and Marker had come to use their influence with Rowling's. As victims of the crime

raids, they were ready to cooperate in stopping crime. Cranston, sole witness of the robbery at Marker's, had

It was the afternoon following the robbery at Marker's. Rowling and his two friends started for the Crucible

Club. Rutherford Blogg showed signs of long worry. His dejection was shared by Hiram Marker. It was

Townsend Rowling who now invited Lamont Cranston to accompany them. The New Yorker declined,

From the window of Room 401, The Shadow, as Lamont Cranston, gazed upon the main street of Southfield.

Rowling's bank was shining in the late afternoon sun. It was a mark for crooks to shoot at.

Impregnable though the bank appeared, Rowling was not satisfied. He wanted guards about the building. He

Why? A smile showed on the thin lips of Cranston's countenance. The keen brain of The Shadow had long

since divined that there must be fierce method behind the measures that Slade Farrow was using.

Rutherford Blogg and Hiram Marker had been pushovers for the trio of cunning crooks who served Slade

Farrow. Blogg and Marker were men of wealth. They were small, however, compared with Townsend

Rowling knew this. He was a keen man this real estate owner who dominated Southfield. A man of lesser

keenness might have felt secure by convincing himself that Blogg and Marker had been victims because of

Townsend Rowling had reasoned differently. Somehow, he knew that the robberies at Blogg's and Marker's

had been launched as forerunners to more daring crime. He was prepared to combat a crew of crooks who

The Shadow, in turn, was watching. That was the way he dealt with men of crime who proved elusive. He let

Here, in the center of the city, Farrow must find a way to enter a virtual fortress, guarded by armed deputies

on all sides. Like Rowling, The Shadow knew that Slade Farrow would attempt the impossible. The Shadow

A truck rolled along the street. It was Farrow's delivery wagon. It had not appeared in Southfield since last

night. Presumably, it had gone to the town of Galport to deliver its load, and it had remained there over night.

Dave and Louie began to unload. Packing boxes went in the front door of the clothing shop. Slade Farrow,

standing on the sidewalk, watched the work. Passing men potential deputies by tonight stopped to let the

THE SHADOW laughed softly. Three crooks and their swag were going into Farrow's! Here, in broad

daylight, the finishing touches were being given to last night's crime. The unloading was completed. Louie

Farrow had played his cards again. Last night, he had kept within view of the vigilantes. He had worked

differently, bringing in the spoils on the day following. Such was the exconvict's genius.

The Shadow's laugh was prophetic. He understood the caliber of Slade Farrow. The Shadow knew that this

stranger in Southfield was ready for any hazard. He had been defeated once in his early encounter with Eric

The final episode was brewing. Recognized deputies would go on guard tonight. Slade Farrow would have a

The conniving brain of a genius was at work. Slade Farrow, posing as a peaceful merchant seeking trade in a

The Shadow knew the mechanism of Slade Farrow's methods. His presence unknown to the men who had

twice stirred Southfield with unexpected crime, The Shadow held a vantage which all others lacked.

Forewarned, acquainted with the details of Slade Farrow's deeds, The Shadow stood more formidable than

Griff and his two hundred deputies, together with the slim police force that patrolled Southfield under Alexis

The Shadow, alone, held the key. His presence here would solve the chain of mystery that had begun with

THE next evening. Southfield had become an armed camp. Townsend Rowling's demand for deputies had

The Southfield Bank was the center point. The deputies stationed there were armed with rifles. Passing

citizens were divided in opinion. Some were disconcerted by these preparations; others were approving.

The consensus, however, voiced the thought that crime must be stopped at any cost. Efforts to apprehend the

successful robbers had failed. The best plan was to prevent a recurrence of crime.

Slade Farrow, busy behind the counter of his store, looked up to see two persons enter. One was Norton

Granger; with the young lawyer was Mildred Legrand. Slade Farrow bowed. His face a countenance that

"Good evening, Mr. Farrow," said Mildred Legrand. "I have come to thank you for your generosity. Norton

has persuaded me that I should take the additional thousand dollars as purchase money."

Farrow looked toward Granger. He saw at once that the young attorney had not taken the credit which Farrow

"It was not my generosity, Miss Legrand," he declared. "Thank Mr. Granger for his good business sense.

When he and I discussed the value of the purchase, I found myself agreeing with him that the original price

Mildred Legrand looked toward Norton Granger. The lawyer's accustomed poise failed him. Confused,

Granger could only stammer. His manner indicated that Farrow's statement had been one of fact.

"This business is a good one." Farrow, still suave, spoke again to prevent Granger from talking out of turn. "I

have found everything as represented. Well established, it has given me great possibilities for expansion."

"My father was proud of this store," nodded Mildred. "I I was keeping it in operation on his account. Then

then he died. I am glad, Mr. Farrow, that you are running the business the way father would have liked to

"Mr. Farrow is the type of merchant that Southfield needs," declared Norton Granger. "He is to be

"Very well," replied Farrow, with a smile. He was looking toward the door. "Here is the truck. Have you seen

STEPPING from behind the counter. Farrow led the way to the door. The delivery truck had drawn up in

front of the store. Dave was on the sidewalk, calling to Louie to help him unload a box.

This name and slogan had already become familiar since Farrow's truck had begun its daily rounds. Below,

however, was a new addition. A heavy oilcloth streamer ran all along the bottom of the truck, its lower edge

A big red arrow occupied the center of this hanging banner. Two lines of words appeared: one above the

"My idea," chuckled Farrow. "The same wording appears on the other side of the truck. You see, the truck is

always heading for one of my three stores. If any one wants to follow the arrow, they'll find a Southfield

"Real advertising!" exclaimed Norton Granger. "This is the kind of thing that brings business."

The exconvict's gaze turned along the main street. Farrow saw clusters of deputies in the neighborhood of

"We have plenty of protection," remarked Farrow. "Evidently those recent robberies have caused

"Townsend Rowling is worried," admitted Granger. "I arranged for two hundred deputies yesterday. Rowling

"Yes. But if the crooks plan another visit to Southfield, the bank is the place where they will strike."

"So do I, Farrow. Those deputies are ready for any emergency. They have rifles and teargas bombs. Should

any alarm sound, they are prepared to enter the bank and overcome the marauders."

"An unnecessary precaution, Granger. How could any criminals get into the bank in the first place, with a

Norton Granger shrugged his shoulder. He agreed with Farrow that an entrance to the bank would be

"The building is well protected," decided Granger. "I feel, however, that Rowling must be worried because it

lacks the features of a large city bank. The walls, for instance, could be blown open. Or crooks might drill

While Slade Farrow was nodding wisely, Norton Granger turned to Mildred Legrand.

"I'm sorry, Mildred," stated Granger, "that you have an engagement for this evening. Could you dine with me

Mildred nodded. Granger waved goodby to Farrow. The lawyer and the girl crossed the street. Slade Farrow

watched them. Evidently the present was lulling the memory of the past, so far as these young people were

FARROW'S benign expression faded as the exconvict turned back into his store. His face hardened. It

showed traces of the grim countenance which Farrow had displayed while a prisoner in the penitentiary.

"Get the boxes out," ordered Farrow, in a low tone. "We're going through with it tonight. I'm counting on

"Keep on to Gwynnesborough," added Farrow. "Be back here at nine o'clock. Stall around at the restaurant

down near the athletic club. Coffee and doughnuts then be ready when the trouble breaks."

New nods. Slade Farrow waved his hand. Dave and Louie turned toward the stairs that led to the basement.

Slade Farrow took his place behind the counter. He was pleasant in manner as he waited on an arriving

Dave and Louie appeared with a large packing case. They carried it out and placed it aboard the truck. They

came back for another. While they were engaged in loading, Farrow looked up to see Eric Griffel entering the

The leader of the vigilantes was wearing a deputy's badge. Farrow noticed it. He pointed a finger and made a

"A good idea," said Farrow. "But it's not enough. I understand you have about two hundred men on the job.

Griff eyed Farrow narrowly. The leader of the vigilantes was still wary of this man from whom he had

wrested Ferris Legrand's green metal box. At the same time, Farrow's explanation of how he had found the

box was one which Griff had been forced to accept. Farrow's conduct as a reputable Southfield merchant had

produced a lulling effect. The suggestion of uniforms was in keeping with the clothing business.

"Smart gray coats," suggested Farrow. "Gray trousers and caps to match. I can get wholesale prices that will

"Charge the deputies for them. They're working for regular salary. I suppose their wages are low, but those

who didn't have jobs are getting money they hadn't counted on; and those who are doing part time duty as

"I'll take it up with Rowling," declared Griff, in a pleased tone. "Say, Farrow you're enterprising. I've got to

Farrow chuckled at the compliment. Three boxes had gone out. Dave and Louie were carrying a fourth.

"Hold up a minute!" he exclaimed. "You're coming back from Gwynnesborough. What's the idea of taking

Stepping from in back of the counter, Farrow approached the packing case. He picked up a hatchet that was

"Nice lot of goods," remarked Farrow. Griff nodded. Farrow replaced the top that he had pried loose. "Take

this back downstairs" Farrow's order was to Dave and Louie "and bring up the rest of those

Gwynnesborough boxes. Keep the lids off. I want to make sure you're bringing the right stuff."

As he chatted casually with Griff, Farrow inspected each of five more boxes that his men brought up to the

shop. He hammered on the lids himself while Dave and Louie were going after other cases. All the while he

"The Gwynnesborough store is making money... Just an experiment at first... Stocking it up heavy now...

Bonding the clerk that I put in charge... Going to take on two new clerks here next week... Hope Galport

shows results like Gwynnesborough... Guess I can hire a couple of good men here in town... You've got most

WHEN Griff strolled out of the store after buying some new shirts, he was more convinced than ever

concerning Slade Farrow's competence as a business man. He believed that he had seen the entire stock that

was going to the Gwynnesborough store. He thought nothing of the three packing cases that had been loaded

Griff stared admiringly at the truck with its trailing banners at the side. As Dave raised the back and closed

the doors, Griff saw that the oilcloth extended at the rear and bore the legend:

Just as Dave was taking the wheel, Louie came out of the store with a small box that had evidently been

forgotten. Grumbling, Dave refused to open the back of the delivery truck. Louie set the box on the

runningboard and held it there. Griff paid no more attention to the truck as he strolled past the bank toward

There were watchers, however, who saw the truck depart. Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland, seated by the

window of Room 301, were keeping vigil. The truck rolled slowly up the main thoroughfare. As it neared the

bank, the loose box suddenly fell from the runningboard. Dave applied the brakes. The truck stopped in the

Louie scrambled from his seat. The box had broken open. Shirts wrapped in cellophane had scattered on the

street. Louie made a funny sight as he waved at approaching cars, steering them aside. Bobbing about, Louie

Coming to the truck, he set the box on the runningboard and fished out a rope from beneath the front seat.

Under Dave's direction, he tied the box firmly in place. The work was slow. Fully five minutes elapsed before

Eyes were watching from above. In Room 401, a thin smile formed on the hawklike visage of Lamont

Cranston. The tall watcher went to the writing desk. He inscribed a blueinked message. He inserted it in an

Cliff Marsland and Harry Vincent were talking in subdued whispers. They were discussing the matter of the

"That fellow took a while to tie the rope," added Cliff. "The way the box cracked open gave him time, too."

"Wait a minute." Harry gripped Cliff's arm. "Look that's where the truck stopped, isn't it? Right over that

"What do you think was in the truck?" questioned Harry, in an excited whisper. "Just boxes?"

"And those new streamers, with the arrows. Dragging to the street covering the wheels "

"I get you, Harry!" Cliff's tone also betrayed excitement. "A trapdoor in the bottom of the truck. A hidden

"That's it," interposed Harry. "The same three men who robbed Blogg and Marker "

Something swished beneath the door of the room. Harry and Cliff turned quickly to see an envelope,

projected from beyond, coming to the end of a flutter that had followed its swift skim.

Harry pounced on the envelope and opened it. He and Cliff read the coded lines. The words faded one by one.

Their assumptions were correct. The Shadow had spied the game while his agents were still pondering. He

had prepared the message; his instructions told Cliff and Harry to remain here on duty.

Craftily, Slade Farrow had unloaded his three threats into a conduit that led beneath the walls of the

Southfield Bank. While more than a score of watchers guarded the street, crime was coming from below!

Grimly, The Shadow's agents watched. The waiting game was still in progress. The Shadow was ready. Did

THE big clock on the Southfield city hall was booming the hour of nine. In the darkness of Room 301, Harry

Armed deputies were much in evidence. Fully fifty men were on duty. In contrast, four uniformed policemen

seemed a trivial number. Eric Griffel, not Alexis Kerr, was in charge of the city. The leader of the vigilantes

Despite the lulling quiet, The Shadow's agents were expectant. They knew that crime was due to strike. They

had box seats for the coming drama. Their low, whispered conversation showed their tenseness.

The zero hour had arrived. The token of crime came with a startling suddenness. Harry and Cliff leaped

closer to the window as they heard the sound of a dull, muffled explosion. The blast was from within the

Griff's deputies stopped their patrol. The men stood as though stupefied. Alarms began to ring. Then came a

wild shout as Griff himself appeared. The leader of the transformed vigilantes had been coming in this

Men with rifles sprang toward the doors of the bank. Griff's lieutenants were on the job. The doors swung

open. Volumes of smoke poured forth. Shouting orders, Griff directed his cohorts into the bank.

Of four policemen, three were joining the deputies. The fourth man dashed to an alarm box to signal

THE deputies who had entered the bank were met with warning shots. These crackled from the top of a

stairway that led below. Three men were firing through a heavy gate. Their shots seemed purposely high but

Amid swirling smoke, Hawkeye, a watersoaked bandanna about his face, growled to his companions. They

had come up here to escape the effects of the charge which they had used to blow the lower vault.

"Grab the swag," was Hawkeye's suggestion. "We can't do nothin' up here. I'll keep 'em away from this gate.

Tapper and Skeets descended in a hurry. Their faces, too, were covered with dampened handkerchiefs. They

had purposely added smoke powder to the charge which Tapper had used for the vault.

With flashlight aiding, the tall crooks rifled the vault and bagged the spoils. Shots from above played a

staccato while they worked. Tapper chuckled as he piled away the articles that Skeets handed him other

The job was quick. Tapper whistled. Hawkeye, crouched behind the top step, was still delivering timely

shots. Three emptied revolvers lay beside him. The cunning crook had gauged his fire to ward off the

A surge came just as Hawkeye reached to grab his guns. Griff's orders had taken effect. Deputies, with police

behind them, were piling in through all the doors. They reached the metal gate too late. Hawkeye was already

Tapper and Skeets were waiting. Hawkeye sprang into an opening in the marble floor, a jagged hole which

the three had drilled from the conduit below. This was another token of Tapper's craftsmanship.

Skeets followed Hawkeye. Tapper was the last to leave. Loaded with bags of swag, the three henchmen of

Slade Farrow were moving through the conduit which they had used to reach their objective. The pipe turned

toward the front street. Hardly had the three men gained the corner in the conduit, before a muffled explosion

"That'll do it," chuckled Tapper. "That's the charge I placed to crumple junk into the hole we went through.

Griff had opened the metal grill through which Hawkeye had held back his men. Deputies, on the stairs,

dropped back at the second explosion. Volumes of smoke poured up the stairs. The outlet was blocked; these

OUT on the street other deputies were warning cars away from the curb. Traffic was blocking on the far side

of the street as Slade Farrow's delivery truck came speeding up the thoroughfare. Dave was grim as he held

the wheel. He ignored the shouts of two deputies; then applied the brakes in a hurry.

The truck with its wheelconcealing banners came to a dead stop directly over the spot where it had paused

on its way to Gwynnesborough. Other cars were adding to the jam. Dave turned off the motor; with Louie, he

A whining siren announced the arrival of the police chief's car. Alexis Kerr, his squareset face grim above

the blue collar of his uniform, leaped to the street to take charge of the situation.

THE chief arrived in the bank just as Griff's deputies were throwing teargas bombs down the stairs. They

followed this maneuver with a rattle of rifle fire. Kerr saw Griff standing in the clearing smoke and bellowed

"So you chucked tear gas, eh?" shouted Kerr. "Fine work. If the crooks can stand the fumes, they can stand

Sullenly, Griff called off his men. A policeman was coming in from Kerr's car, bringing a bag of gas masks.

Then men reached the floor below. Their flashlights showed the broken, rifled vault. The gaping hole in the

floor was filled with broken debris. The stone base of the lower vault room had been crumbled by the second

Police Chief Kerr waved his men upstairs. He saw that the robbers had escaped. He reached the street and

Kerr turned toward the street. He saw the jammed cars, among them Slade Farrow's decorated truck.

"Get this traffic clear!" he instructed two policemen. "We want some space here."

HARRY VINCENT and Cliff Marsland, watching from their post above, saw the traffic move. Cars were

clearing from the street. Dave was jockeying with the crank of the delivery truck.

More than ten minutes had elapsed since Dave had stalled his bannered vehicle at that spot. When the truck

moved away and pulled to the curb some sixty feet down the street, Cliff gripped Harry's arm and pointed to

Both agents looked toward the truck. Dave and Louie were on the sidewalk, interested spectators of the chaos

Cliff followed Harry's pointing finger. Slade Farrow had come from the front of the hotel. The Shadow's

agents saw him cross the street and gesticulate to Dave and Louie. His motions indicated that his men were to

Farrow continued on to open the store. He had closed it just before the hour of nine. Dave and Louie still

stood watching the scene on the main street, as though in no hurry to obey their employer's order.

Lamont Cranston's inflexible face was at the window of Room 401. A soft laugh came from the unmoving

lips. The tall figure turned and stepped into deep darkness. Shortly afterward, a swishing sound occurred.

The door of the room opened. The Shadow stepped noiselessly into the corridor. His gliding form moved

Crime had reached its climax. The aftermath was due. Slade Farrow had completed his looting of Southfield's

coffers. The Shadow was faring forth to view the counting of the spoils. Three jobs had been accomplished;

Phantomlike, The Shadow followed the rear streets. He crossed the main thoroughfare beyond the lighted

zone. Unseen by prowling deputies, he reached the street behind Slade Farrow's store.

Ascending the brick wall, The Shadow reached the darkened apartment. He descended by the stairs. He saw a

light in Farrow's office. Softly, The Shadow approached the door to the basement. It was unlocked.

As the door closed behind the blackgarbed figure, a motor throbbed at the back of the store, then ceased.

Dave and Louie had arrived. Slade Farrow, his face wearing a grim smile, approached the delivery door and

The final job was done. Successful henchmen were returning with the swag. Dave and Louie were unloading

The exconvict's smile would have faded, had Slade Farrow known that The Shadow lurked below!

POLICE CHIEF ALEXIS KERR had returned to his office at city hall. His squareset face showed

determination as he spoke orders through the telephone. A dozen police and nearly two hundred deputies

Footsteps clattered and Townsend Rowling strode into Kerr's office. Behind him were Hiram Marker and

Rutherford Blogg. Then came Eric Griffel. The leader of the deputies was followed by Norton Granger.

"What are you doing here, Kerr?" demanded Rowling. "Why aren't you out on the job? Why haven't you

The squarejawed police chief stared coldly at the grayhaired millionaire. Kerr seemed to resent Rowling's

"I am directing affairs from here," informed Kerr. "I am receiving reports from deputies as well as from

"More must be done," stormed Rowling. "This is terrible. The robbers have cleaned everything from the

"At least they failed to break into the large vault. I understand that it contains practically all of the bank's

"It does." Rowling was reluctant with his admission. "The downstairs vault held all my private wealth. Cash,

negotiable securities and those are not all. In that vault" Rowling's tone was serious "were deeds and

titles. Also confidential papers that cannot be replaced. Something must be done, Kerr at once!"

The police chief settled back in his chair. The situation seemed to challenge him. He became speculative; and

"Odd," asserted Kerr, "that the crooks should have blown the smaller vault. They must have known that the

"I'll tell you why!" blurted Rowling. "It was a thrust at me just like the robberies that occurred at Blogg's

"Ah!" Kerr sprang to his feet. "This gives me an idea. Those crooks, gentlemen, must be here in town. They

have struck three times. They know enough about Southfield. Their very method of entrance proves that."

"Yes. We have not opened their path because they filled it with debris through another explosion. They must,

"I have it!" Hiram Marker interrupted with his exclamation. "I know how they entered! You don't have to

ALL eyes turned in the direction of the baldheaded speaker. Hiram Marker was wildly excited.

"The water conduits!" he exclaimed. "My company installed one before the new bank was built. It runs from

"That's right!" nodded the police chief. "I had forgotten all about that conduit! We all know it's there. The

"It's blocked," asserted Marker. "No longer in use. There's only one entrance to it the manhole in front of

Griff turned. Two of his lieutenants had entered. The chief deputy barked an order.

"You heard what the chief said," he told his men. "Get into that conduit. We can trap those crooks with the

The lieutenants hurried from the office. Griff decided to follow. Police Chief Kerr arose. He waved the other

"Stay here," he ordered. "I'm going up to see about this. We'll get them if they're there."

Word had passed up the street by the time Kerr arrived in his car. The manhole was open. Deputies were

already in the conduit. Griff was standing as director. Minutes passed. A head came from the manhole.

"They've cleared out," stated a deputy. "We found the blocked end of the pipe, under the bank. The other end

Police Chief Kerr stepped into his car. Angrily, he ordered the driver to take him back to city hall. Griff saw

the chief depart. The leader of the deputies entered another car and ordered the driver to follow Kerr.

The police chief was announcing the disappointing news to Rowling and the others when Griff arrived. The

leader of the deputies joined the conference. Long minutes of discussion passed.

"I can't understand how they escaped," summarized Chief Kerr. "There were fifty deputies on that front

street. Those crooks had their swag to lug away. That manhole is the only outlet."

A man came hurrying into the office. It was one of Griff's lieutenants. The arrival approached his leader.

"Listen, Griff," announced the lieutenant, "you've started something. While the boys were busy around that

manhole, a couple of them got an idea. They remembered seeing that delivery truck that belongs to Farrow."

"Wait a minute!" For the first time, Griff remembered his visit to Farrow's store. "I saw that truck going out.

"Yeah," agreed Caderly, "and banners that covered the wheels. The boys did a sneak over to the garage after

they got their hunch. I'll tell you what they found a trapdoor in the bottom of the truck!"

"After I was in the store," recalled Griff, excitedly, "that truck stopped in the middle of the street, on its way

to Gwynnesborough. A box fell off it. Say that's when the crooks got into the conduit. They had plenty of

"The truck pulled up in back of Farrow's," added Caderly. "Some of the boys on the back street saw the driver

and that clerk of Farrow's unloading boxes that they had brought back with them."

"We'll get them!" exclaimed Griff. "Farrow's in that store. We'll use them as decoys. We've spotted the man,

all right." Griff turned to Rowling and gave a significant nod. "It's Slade Farrow. I've been watching that

"Hold up there!" Police Chief Kerr spoke as Griff was turning toward the door. "I'm in charge of this, Griff.

Griff scowled. He stared toward Rowling as if in protest. The millionaire hesitated; then nodded.

"That's right, Griff," he declared. "If you're going to enter Farrow's place, you'll need Chief Kerr. Isn't that

"Yes," agreed young Granger. His face was solemn. "I'm going along, too, Rowling. I can't understand this

FIVE minutes later, Dave and Louie were surprised by a pair of deputies who suddenly approached and

covered them with rifles. Police Chief Kerr stood by while Griff barked orders to his lieutenants.

Watching from their window, Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland saw the captives marched along the street.

The prisoners turned the corner toward the rear of Farrow's store. Kerr, Griff and Granger were in charge; a

group of deputies behind. Other deputies and police were watching the front of the clothing shop.

This was the emergency which The Shadow had foreseen. His agents were prepared to deliver aid.

STACKS of banknotes lay upon packing cases. Piles of bonds and securities formed another pile. A heap of

scattered documents were on the floor. Slade Farrow was sorting through this pile while his three threats

They were in the large store room. The gathered spoils brought triumphant grins to the faces of Hawkeye,

Tapper and Skeets. Yet the three crooks curbed their eagerness. All decision lay with Slade Farrow, the man

A bell rang above. Slade Farrow paused in his labor. His face clouded. Hawkeye reached toward his pocket.

"It's Dave and Louie," decided Farrow. "I told them to keep watch on the main street. They've managed to

The three crooks seated themselves among the spoils after their chief had left. Their confidence in Slade

Farrow was absolute. Even Hawkeye did not appear perturbed. The little crook was interested in the stacks of

Then footsteps sounded. Apparently, Farrow was returning with Dave and Louie. It was not until the sounds

arrived at the door that the three crooks turned in that direction. When they did, they were dumbfounded.

THEY saw the scowling face of Griff, broadshouldered leader of the Southfield vigilantes. The husky man

was armed with a revolver. Beside him were two deputies with rifles. The three crooks were covered.

The crooks backed with raised hands. Griff and his men stepped through the door. Farrow, Dave and Louie

appeared in single file. They, too, were marched to positions by the wall, controlled by the rifles of other

Police Chief Kerr entered with Norton Granger. The official's eyes gleamed as they fell upon the spoils.

While Griff and his men covered the crooks, Kerr motioned to Granger to aid him in inspecting the recovered

"So we got you, eh?" Griff was growling, as he covered Farrow with his revolver. "A crook all the time?"

"A crook," admitted Farrow, "but a clever one. Perhaps you are due to find that out, Griff. My men were after

more than money. You should have known that from the start. I've learned a lot since that night at the hotel. I

"Shut up!" snarled Griff. "One word and I'll shoot you dead. Trying to pull something, eh? I'll "

Chief Kerr had turned quickly. He saw a murderous look on Griff's face. He spotted a finger on the revolver

The deputies had wavered in their vigilance, due to the sudden words from Police Chief Kerr. Hawkeye,

quick as a snake, had whipped out his revolver. He was turning it in a wide circle, to cover all the invaders.

Men were about to drop their rifles. Griff's hand had lowered; but as Hawkeye's circling gun muzzle passed

A peal of mocking laughter burst through the room. It came like a knell of doom a terrifying sound that

chilled all who heard it. Griff stood petrified, beside the door. His henchmen wavered. Chief Kerr was

The prisoners Farrow and his henchmen still stood with upraised arms. They had been ready to grab for

revolvers, to aid in the futile fight that Hawkeye was ready to begin. Now they stood as helpless as before.

Most marked was the effect upon Hawkeye himself. With the first peals of that laugh, the keen crook

quavered. His eyes bulged; his lips twisted. The revolver dropped from his shaking hand. It clattered upon the

Hawkeye knew the author of that laugh. Like an echo from the past, the weird tones of The Shadow's mirth

WHILE his hidden lips were uttering the eerie mockery, The Shadow had swept into view from the door of

the inner store room. His tall black form cast an ominous splotch across the floor a broad streak of black

His burning eyes brought terror to those who met them. His mighty automatics, one clutched in each

blackgloved fist, were weapons that none dared defy. To every observer, it seemed as though a tunneled

Hawkeye and his quickly drawn revolver were as nothing to the menace of this mighty figure whose

shuddering laughter still persisted as ghoulish, dying echoes. Like a thing from the beyond, The Shadow had

Motionless, The Shadow waited, amid grim silence. The atmosphere became more tense. The laugh came

again, this time as a sinister whisper. Police Chief Kerr was standing dumbfounded; all others showed drawn,

That one was Slade Farrow. The exconvict who had launched crime in Southfield was calmly waiting. He,

of all those in this room, might most have dreaded The Shadow's presence. Supercrooks had quailed at sight

Yet Farrow's face betrayed no fear, even as his eyes met the blazing orbs of The Shadow. Caught with the

goods, trapped by the superfighter who battled crime with unrelenting fury, Slade Farrow was displaying

The Shadow's eyes turned squarely toward Police Chief Kerr. The Shadow had picked this official as the one

to receive his order. A stern pronouncement came in The Shadow's whisper a sibilant tone that hissed:

SLADE FARROW stepped from the wall. He dropped his arms and nodded quietly, as if thanking The

Shadow for the opportunity that had been given him. To all others, including Police Chief Kerr, The

Farrow faced the police chief. He could see Norton Granger's tense face beside Kerr's. He observed Griff

standing just within the door. No others appeared of consequence. Under protection of The Shadow's guns,

"You see the fruits of crime," declared the exconvict, swinging his hand toward the mass of wealth upon the

packing cases and the floor. "My men were the ones who gained these spoils. They did their work under my

"I was an inmate of the state penitentiary until a few weeks ago. Presumably there as a convict, I was actually

confined at my own request. I am a sociologist, and my life work has been to lead men away from ways of

"These men" Farrow was indicating those who had served him "were once criminals. All had served their

terms. Through confidence in me, they have gone straight. I summoned them to aid me in my work in

Southfield, because there was no other way to gain the results that I required."

Farrow paused. Chief Kerr and Norton Granger stared in amazement. Griff glowered. Sight of a looming

automatic muzzle made the big man quail. The power of The Shadow still prevailed.

"My cellmate," resumed Slade Farrow, "was Ferris Legrand. I learned his true story. I shall tell it now.

Legrand was a friend of Wilbur Granger, Southfield's most prominent attorney. One night, Wilbur Granger

"That box contained full evidence concerning the fraudulent activities of three men in Southfield. I shall

name them. Townsend Rowling; Rutherford Blogg; Hiram Marker. Wilbur Granger had warned them to

"All three had gained properties through false deeds. Wilbur Granger had obtained the originals. All three had

dealt in crimes of greater order even to murder as in the case of Hiram Marker, who caused the death of

"The green box contained genuine papers to dispute fake documents. It held testimonies of dead men and

living. Its contents were sufficient to put an end to the combined evil that Rowling, Blogg and Marker had

"Wilbur Granger was fleeing town. He left Legrand's home. Legrand, in turn, went directly to the railway

trestle above the deep gorge. He hid the green box in the open end of a steel girder.

"Returning, he went to Wilbur Granger's home. He had another duty to perform. It was his task to remove

personal funds and belongings that Wilbur Granger had left; to keep them until his friend's return. But Wilbur

NORTON GRANGER'S face was firm. This reference to his father was rousing fury in his mind. He knew

enough to piece the story. He understood the perfidy that lay beneath the smugness of the three men who

"Wilbur Granger was murdered," declared Farrow, solemnly. "He was slain shortly after he left Legrand's.

His body was discovered. Men went to his house. They surprised Ferris Legrand not in the act of robbery,

but while he was performing a duty to his friend. He was trapped in this very house. All that he had taken was

restored to Norton Granger. Ferris Legrand was then sentenced to the penitentiary.

"Legrand was afraid to speak. He was awaiting his release. By regaining the green box, he could prove his

innocence and lay crime upon the three evil men who ruled Southfield. Death intervened; but before Ferris

Another pause. Not a man stirred. The whispered laugh of The Shadow crept through the room. It was an

ominous tone that held no mockery nor mercy. Those who heard it shuddered all except Slade Farrow.

"I came to Southfield," asserted the sociologist. "I recovered the green metal box. It was taken from me. I

knew why because suspicions had been aroused by my purchase of Ferris Legrand's business.

"I remained here." Farrow's tone was firm. "I knew that the contents of that green box would be found in

certain places. I brought former criminals to my aid. They did the work that I required. They raided Blogg's;

"They took all that they found. Such was my order. The wealth of those three men has all been stolen from

those to whom it rightfully belonged. Furthermore, I decided to leave no clew. Yet Townsend Rowling

feared. He sensed the purpose of the robberies. He wanted deputies to guard his bank.

"Here is the reason why." Triumphantly, Farrow reached his hand into a packing case and drew out a green

metal box. "This was in Rowling's vault. It contained some real deeds, and other documents, of which Blogg

and Marker had the forgeries. Rowling gave the originals to his friends; he kept the false ones. He wanted to

"Other proofs are here some, even, that can incriminate Rowling himself. But the irony is yet to come. In

this box, Rowling placed other documents which he had in his vault. He trusted no one not even those who

"I have completed my examination of these papers. Among them is a signed statement, evidently obtained by

Townsend Rowling, from the man who was the murderer of Wilbur Granger. The murderer was paid for his

"Take care of this," warned Farrow. "For there, beside you, stands the man who slew Wilbur Granger!"

With a dramatic gesture, Farrow swung his arm and pointed straight at Eric Griffel!

THERE was no need for further accusation. Griff, the powerful leader of the vigilantes, was cowering in the

Griff's fealty to Townsend Rowling; his desire, tonight, to slay Slade Farrow these were fitting proofs to

The Shadow's mockery crept weirdly through the room where astounded men were standing. That weird

The Shadow, ever since that night when he had visited the penitentiary, had been gaining new facts

Slade Farrow, the man who had come to Southfield to right great wrong, had gained his sole desire. When

failure had capped Farrow's noble efforts, The Shadow had stepped forth to bring the truth to light!

Police Chief Kerr uttered these words as he turned to Eric Griffel. Thrusting out a brawny hand, the chief

Footsteps on the stairs. Griff swung a quick glance through the doorway. It was Caderly and a squad of

Chief Kerr, in grasping Griff's arm, had committed a grave mistake. Kerr's body was swinging between Griff

and the spot where The Shadow stood. With a sudden shout, Griff swung his fist up to Kerr's chin.

As the police chief staggered, Griff dived toward the stairs. His screaming words were orders to his arriving

Loyal to Griff, Caderly sprang to the door of the store room to meet the lunging form of Police Chief Kerr.

He aimed his revolver to fire. A shot thundered from across the room. The Shadow, picking an opening past

It was the signal for strife. The deputies in the store room, although they had heard the truth, took sudden

measures in Griff's behalf. They came up with their rifles, ready to fight Slade Farrow and his henchmen.

The effort was too late. Hawkeye was leaping forward to attack. Following his example, the others piled upon

One of Griff's ruffians swung free and aimed his rifle squarely at Slade Farrow. Another flash came from The

Revolvers flashed as the beleaguered men leaped toward the door to meet the onrush of Caderly's crew. Griff,

Police Chief Kerr was at the door, with Hawkeye beside him. Both were foemen to Griff's frenzied deputies.

Guns barked. Chief Kerr staggered wounded. Hawkeye dropped a vigilante, while Farrow dragged the police

chief back into the store room. Griff, from the stairs, was barking out new orders.

"Get them all!" he rasped. "Get that swag. Kerr has gone crooked! So has Granger!"

Then came shots from the end of the passage below the stairs. Vigilantes staggered as they reached the door

of the store room. The Shadow had come through the little room. A dim shape at the end of the passage, he

Sprawling vigilantes failed to return The Shadow's shots. Those behind them turned tail as the automatics

thundered death. The invaders were backing up the stairway. A weird avenger, The Shadow came sweeping

GRIFF knew what was happening. He leaped for Farrow's office while he shouted to new men who were at

the delivery door. In the office, Griff closed the door and grabbed the telephone. He called police

Barking guns still sounded. The Shadow was on the stairs. His shots from the darkness were driving back the

Griff could hear shots below. He knew that men whom The Shadow had scattered and wounded were making

"Hello..." Griff gasped the word. "Rowling?... The jig is up... Yes... Farrow squealed... Stay there I'm on my

An automatic barked just outside the door. The Shadow was at the top of the stairs. Griff leaped to the

window. It was barred. The brawny vigilante thrust an arm through the bars and with a mighty effort

wrenched them from their fastenings. With a wild leap, he plunged through to the rear street.

The door of the office burst open. The Shadow, his eyes gleaming fiercely, saw the telephone, its receiver

still off the hook. Beyond that, the unbarred window. The Shadow's laugh was grim.

His emptied automatics disappeared beneath his cloak. Another pair replaced them. Turning, The Shadow

swept back toward the delivery door. Standing there, he blazed two shots; then leaped into the darkened

Shots came from ahead. Griff's henchmen were guarding their leader's flight. The automatics replied.

Weaving forward in the darkness, The Shadow was picking living targets, yet his own form remained unseen.

Rifles and revolvers were aimed each time his automatics blazed. But The Shadow was never there to receive

the return shots. Vigilantes sprawled on the paving. Others fled as they heard their companions groan.

Police Chief Kerr had arrived at the top of the stairs. Though wounded, the chief was game. Norton Granger

Vigilantes had smashed through the front of the clothing store. It was in this direction that Chief Kerr turned.

A rifle crackled. The bullet skimmed Kerr's shoulder. Other guns swung upward, aimed by vigilantes. A

revolver barked beside Chief Kerr. Hawkeye grinned as his prompt shot downed the vigilante who had fired.

Skeets delivered shots. The exracketeer was a marksman. As Tapper and Farrow joined in the fray, the

vigilantes broke and fled for the front street. Chief Kerr, unbalked by danger, dashed in pursuit.

OUT on the street, the official stood in plain view. He saw policemen across the street. He waved his hand in

signal. That was sufficient. A distant vigilante fired. His bullet shattered the glass of the display window,

Kerr's policemen understood. Although outnumbered, they began a fray against the vigilantes. Kerr, standing

openly upon the street, waved to Farrow and his henchmen. Springing to Kerr's aid, Farrow's reformed crooks

It was a fight against odds, with The Shadow no longer here to aid. The blackgarbed master had cleared his

way in pursuit of Eric Griffel. Once again, however, Chief Kerr was to owe his life to The Shadow. The

Sniping vigilantes were aiming rifles to end Kerr's career, as the daring police chief scorned all cover. From

the window of the hotel room, Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland opened fire on the wouldbe murderers.

Vigilantes scattered as members of their crew dropped to the street. Policemen leaped forward. Farrow and

his henchmen deployed. Dave and Louie had joined the other three. Wild gunfire reigned.

Louie staggered wounded; so did Tapper. Two policemen fell. But a dozen vigilantes sprawled, a third of

their number shot through the heart. Hawkeye and Skeets, amazing marksmen, were doing duty in the street.

Harry and Cliff, firing from above, were doing their part to send the vigilantes scudding.

At the city hall, three men were standing on the curb. Townsend Rowling, heeding Griff's frenzied warning,

had hastened from Kerr's office with Hiram Marker and Rutherford Blogg. As the three men hesitated, a

Griff was at the wheel. He barked an order to a pair of vigilantes as he motioned Rowling and his companions

into the car. Jamming home the gear, Griff pulled the touring car away from the curb.

The game was up. The three crooks knew it. They were ready to follow Griff's lead in an attempt at flight.

He knew that The Shadow would soon be on the trail. Flight was the only way to thwart The Shadow. That

was the method Griff had chosen. He had made the break. Now was the chance for safety!

THE Southfield city hall was half a block from the railway depot. The eastbound D O Limited was standing

in the station as Griff's car headed in that direction. A locomotive, with three baggage cars attached, was

The engineer and fireman were standing beside the locomotive. They were listening to the crackle of gunfire

that came from far up the main street. Passengers, too, were on the station platform, wondering if civil war

The limited had cleared the railway crossing where the main street passed over the tracks. On the other side, a

freight was making up. The front half of the train was separated from the back, so that the crossing would not

The two vigilantes whom Griff had dispatched were heading straight for the freight locomotive. It was only a

short dash between two buildings. They were at their objective in less than twenty seconds.

Griff, as he jerked the touring car out into the main street, was quick to glance along the thoroughfare behind

him. Traffic had ducked for side streets. Only one car was in view. It was pulling from the curb at a corner

Griff fumed an oath. He knew who was in that car. Ever since his leap from the window in Farrow's office,

Griff had realized that his henchmen could not stop The Shadow. Yet despite his anger, Griff wore a fierce

The touring car bounded as it struck the rails of the grade crossing. It swiped sidewise and Griff jammed at

the brakes. He straightened the car as it shot between the halves of the freight train.

Up ahead, Griff's vigilantes had clambered into the freight engine. One had pounced upon the fireman. The

other met the engineer. A swift punch to the jaw. The engineer crumpled. The vigilante who had struck him

down grabbed a lever. Looking backward along the train, he saw Griff's touring car shoot through the break

The freight cars buckled as the front half of the train went into reverse. While a watchman cried an excited

warning, the front of the train came backing over the crossing. No brakes were applied. The first of the

Loud rattles echoed all along the siding. The rear car of the joined train was jammed against the bumper of

the sidetrack. Cars buckled and toppled from the rails as the engine wheels drove backward. Then the

vigilante yanked the lever. The train was stopped. Its derailed cars formed a barrier across the only grade

A COUPE, hurtling up to the grade crossing, made a sudden swerve as the freight cars buckled in its path.

Too late to avoid a crash with the brakes alone, the driver swerved and headed his car along beside the track.

The coupe narrowly escaped a toppling freight car. Again it swerved, bounded over rails and came to a stop

The door of the coupe opened. A tall form emerged. It was The Shadow. He had made a quick pursuit, once

he had cleared away the blocking vigilantes. Where Griff's men had failed, the jammed cars of the freight had

The halfwrecked coupe was evidence of Griff's unexpected strategy. Less than a hundred yards behind the

A soft laugh came from The Shadow's lips. His tall form stood unseen. He was on the side of the baggage

cars away from the station platform. With swift pace, The Shadow hurried forward. He knew the only road

Black against the side of the black locomotive, The Shadow was totally unseen as he climbed the steps of the

panting Mogul. His sharp eyes, peering from beside the cab, spied the engineer and fireman on the platform

As The Shadow entered the right side of the cab, a sedan came speeding up to the station. A young man

leaped from the car and dashed across the platform. It was Norton Granger. He shouted at the conductor:

"They took the grade crossing. The freight has blocked it. Something must have gone wrong, backing in like

Norton Granger stared. The engineer and fireman of the limited were moving down the platform to see what

had happened to the freight. So had others. Wildeyed, Granger realized what had happened.

A thunderous chug came from the locomotive of the limited. Then another. The wheels revolved. Weighted

by only three cars, the huge Mogul responded quickly to the pull of the throttle.

A cry came from the engineer. With the fireman, he started up along the platform. The conductor had left;

With a leap, the young lawyer gained the side of the moving locomotive. He swung aboard as the big engine

gathered speed. Engineer and fireman were on their way. They were losing in the race.

Aided by the slight down grade, unhandicapped by extra cars, the big locomotive was pulling out with

unusual speed. Its glaring headlight was burning down the track. Its huge wheels were rattling over switches

In the left side of the cab, Norton Granger panted from his short run. He gazed through the front window;

then nodded as he understood. Only one person could have sprung this swift scheme of pursuit. That was the

The Shadow was at the throttle. Norton Granger did not know the identity of the blackclad stranger. He

realized only that The Shadow, like himself, was anxious to stop the flight of Eric Griffel and the three men

Through The Shadow, Ferris Legrand's name had been cleared. Nothing now could remain a barrier between

Norton Granger and the girl he loved. Justice, however, must be done. The men who had brought about the

Springing from his side of the cab, Norton Granger yanked open the door of the firebox and began to shovel

The thundering locomotive was on the trail of escaping men of crime. The Shadow, grim messenger of

ERIC GRIFFEL was blurting facts as he swung the touring car along the curving road that led away from

Southfield. In short syllables, he was telling why the game was up. Townsend Rowling was in the front seat;

Hiram Marker and Rutherford Blogg were in the rear. All were delivering frantic questions.

"It's all spilled," growled Griff, as he swung the car beneath the low bridge just outside of town. "We're lucky

to get away and we wouldn't be away except for the boys who yanked the freight across the track."

"Yes," informed Griff. "I've heard of him but I didn't know he was in this mess. But he won't get us now. I'll

cut left before we get to Gwynnesport. Over to the flying field. We'll grab a plane for Canada. It's our only

"I can get money," stated Townsend Rowling. "I've been ready for emergencies such as this. Don't worry"

the crooked bank owner paused to laugh "we'll be safe when we get across the border."

"What's that?" Rutherford Blogg put the query as he stared through the back window of the car. He had seen

a light behind as the automobile had reached the straight road a few miles out of town.

Townsend Rowling turned to stare. A wild gasp came from his lips as his ears heard the distant rumble.

"It's the Limited!" he exclaimed. "Pulling out ahead of time. It's coming after us!"

An oath came from Griff. The fuming vigilante pressed the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer moved

"I can't get a bit more out of this old buggy," he snarled. "Seventy is the best."

"Three baggage cars," muttered Griff. "That was all the load the loco had. The Mogul might do ninety on the

An anxious cry came from Hiram Marker. The waterworks owner was looking through the back. He could

THE huge headlight showed the fleeing touring car. Burning eyes were staring from the window of the cab.

The Shadow, his gloved hand upon the throttle, was swaying with the rocking of the locomotive as the huge

Norton Granger was still stoking. The swaying of the locomotive nearly caused him to lose his balance. He

The distance was lessening to the crossing. The brilliant light of the locomotive showed rails that seemed

hurtling up beneath the wheels. The short train was doing close to the ninety miles an hour that Griff had

The space between the mighty engine and the fleeing car was narrowing. Yet the automobile had gained a

long start. The straight railroad had favored the locomotive, for the touring car had followed a curving course

A weird laugh came from The Shadow's lips. It sounded above the roar of the locomotive. The end of the

IN the touring car, Griff uttered a sudden exclamation. Far ahead, he could trace the outline of the wooded

patch through which the road curved to take the grade crossing beside the gorge.

"We can cross before or after him," returned Griff. "His only chance is to block us like we stopped his car

"He'll use the air brakes when we hit the woods. Listen and you'll hear him. He's only got three cars. He'll

"If we reach the woods ahead of him, we're safe. The brakes will slow him and we'll shoot over the crossing

"We'll know it when we strike the woods. If he doesn't shoot the brakes, we'll let him go over first. He's wise

THE locomotive was close behind the car as the fleeing automobile neared the woods. The Shadow's black

hand left the throttle. It pressed the airbrake lever. The locomotive shuddered and seemed to bounce along

Triumphant cries sounded as the touring car shot into the woods. These were from the watching men in the

"He's done it," sneered the vigilante. "That's the end of him. We're still ahead and this is where we get

The speedometer showed sixtyeight as Griff took the circuitous curve. The steady driver knew his speed.

The curve was nullified by the lead. The slowing train could not block the crossing ahead of the fleeing car.

AS the headlight of the locomotive blazed its way through trackfringing trees, The Shadow's hand left the

brake lever. It gripped the throttle and pulled it wide. The big engine gave a leap.

Unknown to the fleeing crooks, The Shadow had changed his tactics. The locomotive was hitting the curve

toward the grade crossing. Its pounding wheels seemed to stagger on the rails. No whistle sounded the

Bearing heavily on the increasing curve, the locomotive seemed to hang on two wheels. Roaring forward, its

Blazing light showed an opening amid the trees. The locomotive gobbled up the space. With new fury, the

Then into the path of light came the hurtling touring car. With the Mogul thundering down upon it, the

automobile seemed a frail and trivial toy. A swallowing monster, the locomotive hit the grade at ninety miles

The locomotive seemed to spring upon its prey. The giant mass of metal wobbled as its front crashed against

the side of the automobile. Twisting as it hurtled upward, the touring car was instantly transformed into a

The locomotive roared upon the trestle. The Shadow's hand was already on the brake. The trestle trembled.

The locomotive rose, then steadied. Full speed would have wrecked the engine and its cars; quick application

But The Shadow's hand was steady. He eased the speed with master skill. Wheels seemed to regain their rails

as the steel steed steadied midway of the trestle. A slackening, while Norton Granger staggered in the left

From his window, Norton saw the twisted touring car go lurching from the pilot. With its falling occupants

dropping like toy soldiers, the automobile plunged far off the trestle and turned over and over as it went to the

The brakes were tightening as the locomotive passed the trestle. The tender served as bulwark against the cars

Half a mile down the track, the locomotive came to a jolting stop. Norton Granger caught himself as he shot

The young lawyer was dazed from the hectic ride. The hurtling trip along the rails; the jolt at the grade

crossing; the sight of that spinning car as it whirled into the ravine all these were chaotic recollections.

Murderers had gone to their doom. All four had been party to the death of Norton's father and to the slaying

Fleeing from the law, they had dared The Shadow's might. They had failed. Townsend Rowling, Rutherford

Blogg, Hiram Marker and their underling, Eric Griffel, had met swift death which they deserved.

Beneath the very trestle where Ferris Legrand had hidden the green box, these men of crime were lying dead.

The Shadow, risking his own life, had stopped their sure flight to evade the penalty of the law. His deed had

The big locomotive was panting like a weary runner. Norton Granger rose unsteadily and crossed the cab. He

As Norton Granger listened, he heard a distant sound that came above the panting of the engine. It was a

token that he had heard before; but here, in the night air; its weirdness had a new and ghostly sound.

A strange peal of outlandish laughter; sardonic mockery that rose to strident crescendo; then faded while