THE GREEN TERROR .....................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. THE GREEN TERROR....................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE MAN WHO FAINTED ...........................................................................................7

CHAPTER III. GUN MOB ....................................................................................................................12

CHAPTER IV. THE BLUEBELL GARAGE.......................................................................................18

CHAPTER V. HOT SPOT....................................................................................................................24

CHAPTER VI. THE PEANUT MAN...................................................................................................29

CHAPTER VII. HOUSE OF DEATH ...................................................................................................34

CHAPTER VIII. A CRIMINAL COMPACT.......................................................................................40

CHAPTER IX. DARK DEATH............................................................................................................45

CHAPTER X. FIFTEEN RINGS..........................................................................................................50

CHAPTER XI. THE SECOND RAID ...................................................................................................55

CHAPTER XII. THE CAMERAMAN ..................................................................................................61

CHAPTER XIII. SKY TERROR ...........................................................................................................67

CHAPTER XIV. THE SEALED POOL ................................................................................................72

CHAPTER XV. GUILTY SECRET ......................................................................................................77

THE man who entered the bank was a timid, inoffensivelooking gentleman. He was tall and gaunt, with

graying hair and stooped shoulders. He was carrying a leather suitcase. He looked around uncertainly, then

"I've been sent here by one of the bank's depositors. Which is Mr. Gaylord? I was told to see him."

John Gaylord was one of the bank's vice presidents. He had sandy hair, a blond mustache and a pleasant

"My name is Hilbert, sir. I'm a clerk in the office of Daniel French. Mr. French was too busy to come over

"He needs certain things from his safedeposit box. I have an explanatory letter to you from Mr. French."

He handed over the letter, and Gaylord read it. It was a brief typewritten note on French's letterhead,

explaining that he was too busy to call at the bank in person. The note identified Hilbert as a secretary in

French's employ. It requested that Hilbert be given access to French's safedeposit vault to remove certain

Gaylord nodded as he read it. The sending of an employee by French was not unusual. French was the busy

head of a large insurance firm. He was also one of the bank's most valued customers. A request like this was

Gaylord, however, was cautious enough to examine the signature under the bright circle of his desk lamp. He

was a personal friend of French and familiar with his signature. He found it to be genuine.

But there was something about the manner of the gaunt clerk with the suitcase that made Gaylord hesitate.

The man seemed ill at ease. The hand that rested on the vice president's desk was trembling slightly.

Gaylord said curtly, "Just a moment." He glanced at the letterhead and reached for his telephone. He dialed

"This is Gaylord speaking, from the Coastal Bank," he said. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. French, but there's a

"You mean Hilbert? That's quite all right. Please see that he's given every courtesy. And by the way, how

about a round of golf with me next Saturday? I'd like revenge for the last time you trimmed me."

Gaylord grinned. French was an ideal golf opponent. He played poorly and always insisted on large side bets.

The vice president hung up and scribbled a pass. Hilbert took it and went down the rear marble staircase to

the basement of the bank. When he showed his pass, the guard unlocked the massive barred gate and

Hilbert set his leather suitcase down on the floor and stared timidly about as the vault attendant reached for

the master key that was necessary to complete the unlocking of any of the safedeposit boxes that lined the

There were three or four customers in the vault, but Hilbert seemed more interested in a large mirror that

The customers followed the direction of Hilbert's pointing finger. So did the startled gaze of the vault

attendant. The whole surface of the mirror was a bright pink! As they watched, they saw the pink color

No one noticed that Hilbert was no longer staring toward the mirror. He had bent quickly over the suitcase on

Inside the suitcase was a metal box. It seemed to be made of lead. There was a small button on the top of the

But before that happened, an amazing change occurred in the appearance of Hilbert. One hand had jerked

something from the pocket of his overcoat. It looked like a rubber bathing cap. He slipped it completely over

his head and face. It was a strange combination, like a football player's helmet and a gas mask.

Thick rubber disks covered Hilbert's ears. Goggles of a greenishtinted glass protected his eyes. There was a

His rubberandmetal mask was bathed in a vivid green light that shone from within the open lead box!

The light was thrown in all directions by reflectors inside the box. It came from a series of small bulbs like

the tubes of a radio set. There were loops of wire and a dizzy array of soldered connections. But if it were a

strange, new type of radio set, it contained no loudspeaker. The greenish glare of light bathed the

The ray had no effect whatever on the masked Mr. Hilbert. But its effect on everyone else was incredible.

People froze horribly where they stood. It was as though the light had turned them into clay dummies. Every

muscle in their frozen bodies was tense. Their eyes bulged with unwinking horror in the greenish glow. They

But Hilbert found no trouble in moving. He glided with catlike speed to the side of the attendant. The man

had just taken a master key from his uniform pocket. Hilbert pried it from the terrorstricken fingers.

He raced to a small cupboard where the duplicate keys of box owners hung on tiny numbered hooks. He

selected the key of Daniel French and several others. Then he sprang toward the locked boxes that formed the

It was impossible to see which box Hilbert opened. His hunched back hid the rapid motion of his hands. Nor

was it possible to tell what he stole. A sweep of his left hand transferred something to an inner pocket of his

The hypnotized terror of his victims seemed to amuse him. A faint gurgle of laughter sounded from behind

that monstrous mask. Then Hilbert calmly replaced the master key in the stiffened fingers of the vault

attendant. He gave the man a contemptuous push and the attendant fell down. He lay in a stiff huddle, like an

Hilbert strode toward the locked steel door of the vault. The guard outside was clutching the bars with a force

that whitened his clenched fingers. Hilbert reached through the bars, took a ring of keys from the

Hilbert glanced out. There was no one in sight at the foot of the marble steps that led to the main banking

room upstairs. Again laughter purred behind that monstrous mask. Hilbert raced back to the opened lead box.

The greenish glow died. But the mirror on the wall still held that strange hue of blood. And not a person in

The mask that had protected Hilbert's ears, eyes and throat went back into his overcoat pocket. Once more he

became the timid, inoffensive clerk who had received permission from a vice president of the bank to open

Upstairs, Gaylord glanced up briefly and nodded as Hilbert headed for the street door with his suitcase.

Shouts sounded from the basement. A wild group of men raced upward into view. Foremost was the armed

guard of the vault. His gun was in his hand now. He had lost all the terror that had frozen him to a helpless

He slammed the door of the bank and locked it. His hand jerked at an alarm device. Instantly a siren began to

But it was too late. A daring bank robbery had been successfully accomplished. The guard, having seen no

sign of Hilbert outside, concluded that the meek holdup man was still trapped somewhere within the

It was a wrong guess. Hilbert had made good his escape. He had left the bank during the few minutes that the

But Hilbert had not quite escaped detection. One man in the street sensed what was going on. He was a crook

SLASHER DOYLE didn't need a blueprint to sniff crime. He had a long nose and thin, cruel lips. He thought

it was a little odd when he saw a man dart out of a bank with a heavy suitcase. Slasher thought it was even

Slasher kept an eye on a nearby doorway, where the man with the suitcase had vanished. While Slasher was

doing this, the shouting bank guard peered vainly up and down the street, then jumped back inside and locked

A huge crowd began to gather. A policeman came running down from the corner. From the distance came the

wail of a radio car. Slasher mingled with the crowd of spectators. But he kept an eye on the doorway down

He saw the man with the suitcase reappear and move quietly away from the disturbance. No one paid any

attention to Hilbert or to Slasher, either. Slasher followed his quarry, making certain that he was not noticed

The sag of that suitcase in Hilbert's grasp made Slasher's mouth water. It was a highjack job made to order for

him. Under Slasher's coat was a leather scabbard that contained a longbladed knife. Slasher never used a

He figured that the suitcase of the guy ahead must contain at least five grand in cash. Even on a hurried

robbery, a guy ought to grab that much. The guy with the suitcase must have used a clever gag. Otherwise

Slasher decided that the man had pulled a neat swindle of some sort. It made a highjack even easier!

Swindlers were a class of mugs that Slasher despised. They depended on their wits rather than tough stuff.

The man ahead kept on walking. To Slasher's delight, he headed east toward a frowzy neighborhood of

The sharp point of a knife made an agonized prick in Hilbert's ribs. The point pressed through Hilbert's coat

"Keep your trap shut!" Slasher Doyle growled. "Act like you're an old friend of mine. Walk nice and slow

The alley made a dark cut between the brick walls of two tenements. Hilbert gasped and obeyed. The two

Behind the alley was a dim stone courtyard. A blank wall shielded it on one side. The overhang of a cellar

entrance hid the two men from the sight of anyone who might be looking out a rear window above.

"O.K. You've got me. I pulled a swindle on the paying teller and got away with ten thousand bucks. Gimme a

The cellar entrance was dark. It made a knife job easier. A yell from the sap wouldn't be heard. Slasher

He didn't notice the snouted mask until it slid swiftly from Hilbert's overcoat pocket and snapped over the

bank robber's head. The sight of that ugly covering made Slasher recoil. For an instant he stood instinctively

An instant was all that Hilbert needed. The sides fell away from the lead box. The greenish glow from the

His eyes bulged with blind, unreasoning terror. One arm flung itself over his face. He stood stiffened in that

Hilbert started to wrench the knife from Slasher's fingers. The paralyzed thug held on so tightly that it wasn't

easy to wrench the weapon loose. Hilbert changed his mind. He wasn't interested in murder; all he wanted

With a lithe motion he closed the leaden box. He snapped shut the clasps of the suitcase. He whipped the

A moment later Hilbert vanished through the rear courtyard, leaving Slasher crouched like a stone gargoyle,

HILBERT walked quietly down the street. Part way down the block was the goal he had been heading for

A car was parked at the curb. It was empty. Hilbert walked around the rear to the trunk. The trunk was not

locked. Raising it as calmly as if he owned the car which he didn't Hilbert stowed his deadly suitcase

away. He snapped the lid of the trunk shut, made sure it was tightly locked. Then he walked onward to the

An instant before Hilbert turned southward down the avenue, Slasher Doyle appeared at a tumbling trot from

the tenement alley. The tardy effect of the fear ray had worn off, but the memory of the horror he had

experienced was still vivid in Slasher's bulging eyes. A couple of pedestrians gave him a startled glance, but

He began to hurry in pursuit, one hand resting grimly on the concealed knife scabbard beneath his coat. Fear

Slasher knew now the secret of that amazing suitcase! The thought of loot had vanished from his mind. He

had stumbled on a magnificent crime device, the like of which Slasher had never dreamed of.

He knew now why the guy with the suitcase had turned the bank upside down without being caught. Any

bank in the world would be easy meat for the owner of that hellish green ray. It had turned Slasher's blood to

water. It had changed him into a cringing dummy, unable to move a muscle or to utter a sound.

His quick glance had shown him that Hilbert no longer had the suitcase. But that made no difference. Without

his lead box, the guy was helpless. Slasher's knife would make him talk and talk damned fast!

There was only one thing that the excited Slasher didn't notice. A car parked at the curb had a rather

But Slasher passed the empty car without turning his head. He rounded the corner.

A block down the avenue he saw the gaunt figure of the man he intended to kidnap. Slasher drew a deep

With death in his slitted eyes, Slasher Doyle began to trail his defenseless quarry.

The bank's vice president stroked his blond mustache with a shaking hand. His face was pale.

Inspector Cardona had arrived swiftly on the scene after the first report had been flashed to headquarters. In

the New York police department Cardona was regarded as its ace sleuth. He barked a quick command to the

"Get busy! I want photographs. I want every inch of that vault dusted for fingerprints. Rafferty, phone in a

description of Hilbert to headquarters. I want a teletype alarm sent out to every precinct in the city!"

Through the front window of the bank, Cardona could see an enormous crowd on the sidewalk. It took a

dozen cops to hold them back. In some mysterious way a rumor had seeped to the crowd outside that a

"Radium, hell! Radium doesn't freeze people in their tracks. What were you so frightened about when that

"I don't know, inspector. I'm no coward. I used to be on the force, as you know. There was something hellish

about that green light. It tied me in knots! Made me more scared than I've ever been in my life! I didn't even

Cardona looked unhappy. A ray that paralyzed men, that turned mirrors dull red, was something new in the

way of a bank robbery. And why had Hilbert confined his attention to the safedeposit box? What had he

Cardona wasn't even sure which deposit box had been robbed. The action of the burglar in shielding his

hands with his body at the moment of the actual robbery made it uncertain which of the steel boxes had

actually been opened. Perhaps the forged letter from Daniel French was a blind to hide a raid on the lock box

"It wasn't a forged letter. I'm perfectly familiar with French's signature. It was genuine!"

A moment later two men pushed through the massed crowd outside the bank. One of them was a plainclothes

detective. The other was Daniel French. The detective had been sent hurriedly to fetch the insurance

The typewritten message which Hilbert had used to gain access to the vault downstairs was still lying on

"I knew it!" Cardona growled. "You were mistaken about that signature, Gaylord. It's a forgery!"

"Wait!" French gasped. There was startled wonder in his eyes as he gazed at the paper in his trembling hands.

"If you never heard of Hilbert, why did you vouch for him when Gaylord called you up?"

"I didn't! I phoned French. He said Hilbert was his representative. At any rate, somebody spoke to me over

French took the typewritten sheet from Cardona's fingers. The wonder in his eyes redoubled.

"That's not my telephone number," he said. "The exchange is correct, but the number is wrong."

"Hop into a department car, Rafferty. Take this thing as fast as you can to the crime laboratory at

headquarters. Tell them I want an immediate test made. As soon as you get a report, hop back here."

Rafferty hurried out of the bank. Cardona grabbed up the phone on Gaylord's desk, called the telephone

company and spoke to a high official. His rasping brought quick results. After a few moments the phone bell

rang. Cardona wrote down the address of the location of the phone that Gaylord had called earlier.

A sergeant nodded. Cardona left the bank, shoved his way through the crowd on the sidewalk and sprang into

Cardona's goal turned out to be a shabbylooking fourstory building two blocks away from the ornate

structure that housed Daniel French's big insurance company. Most of the offices were grubby little affairs. A

The office Cardona was interested in was on the top floor. It had been rented by a man named George

Mallory. But there was no sign of Mallory. All that the office contained was a shabby desk and a chair.

The building superintendent couldn't remember clearly what Mallory looked like. Mallory had rented the

room three days earlier. He had paid a month in advance. He had worn a gray suit, was of average build, and

"I... I don't know. He had on his hat. And he was wearing dark glasses. Just like an average sort of guy."

Cardona cursed. But he was stubborn. He spent a long time in the office, hunting for a definite clue to

In the end he had to drive back to the bank. His mouth tautened as he saw that Rafferty had returned from the

"They put the paper under the lights and found out the answer. Take a look at it now, inspector!"

Cardona studied the sheet. An amazing transformation had occurred to the document presented to the bank by

One was the note which Gaylord had read. The other was a routine message from Daniel French to one of his

subordinates. This latter message was between the lines of the first. It was faded and brown, but clearly

"They faded out French's actual memo with some sort of acid," Rafferty explained. "They did the same thing

with the telephone number. Then they retyped the thing, without touching French's signature. That's how

"Just a few routine papers of no particular worth. I can't understand why the theft occurred at all."

"We don't know yet whether French's box was the one raided," Gaylord suggested in a troubled tone. "The

vault attendant says that Hilbert screened his hands with his body when he opened one of the boxes. Perhaps

Hilbert deliberately involved French in this mystery so as to hide his real purpose."

The duplicate keys to all the boxes were still hanging on their rack, including the few which Hilbert had

snatched and returned to their places. Cardona selected French's key and obtained the master key from the

There was an excited craning of necks when the little door swung wide. Inside was a flat tin box. Cardona

"That settles it," Cardona muttered. "It proves that your box was the one robbed, Mr. French. Damned funny

that a thief who went to all that amazing preparation should steal only a few unimportant papers."

"All I had was what I've already told you," French explained. "Things like my birth certificate, a few trinkets

of sentimental value. My dead mother's wedding ring, for instance. Nothing that could be of the slightest

He spoke jerkily. There was a queer catch to his breathing. Cardona stared at him in wonder. A pallor had

GAYLORD ran to his desk, opened a drawer and produced a bottle of whiskey. While Cardona supported the

insurance man's head, Gaylord poured some of the fiery liquor down French's throat.

"I'm sorry to have made such an ass of myself, inspector. This thing has unnerved me."

Cardona didn't believe a word he said. No man toppled over in a faint because of the loss of a few

But French stuck doggedly to his story. He was unwell, he declared. He suffered from low blood pressure.

He asked for, and received, police permission to go to his home. After French had departed. Cardona

scratched his head. Maybe the guy was telling the truth! His behavior was the least screwy part of this whole

And what about that deadly lead box with the greenish ray that paralyzed human beings into statues of terror?

Was this crazy holdup perhaps only in the nature of a criminal tryout? Would there be more attempts on the

Cardona put the problem of French's behavior out of his mind. He concentrated on the problem of the fear

ray. The more Cardona thought about that deadly green ray, the more his head ached.

Not a sound was audible. Not even a current of air moved. A human eye might have stared indefinitely into

that velvet blackness without being able to say positively that the room contained a living being. But a living

Sibilant laughter hissed through the darkness. The laughter died into silence. Then suddenly a blue light

glowed. It was a small light, but very powerful. Its beam was directed downward. It threw an oval of

The hands of The Shadow rested in that pool of brilliance. Part of his face was visible. His hawklike nose

betokened strength and power. Thin lips were curved slightly in a meditative smile. The Shadow had received

The news had been relayed from Clyde Burke. Burke a reporter from the Daily Classic, had gone to the

Coastal Bank shortly after the amazing holdup. He had turned in a report to his paper. Then he had

The tapering fingers of The Shadow moved beyond the spot of brilliance. When they returned they held a

sheet of blank paper. A quill pen of antique design was in The Shadow's right hand. Dipping the pen into an

A mathematical equation appeared on the paper. It was a preliminary equation, one that summed up

It was an indication of the drift of The Shadow's thoughts. Like Inspector Cardona, he didn't believe that

Daniel French had spoken the truth. Something of value had been stolen. Something so important that French

The laughter of The Shadow took on a more ominous note. Immediate investigation of Daniel French was

indicated. As the laughter died, the blue light above the desk suddenly went out. It plunged the sanctum into

A few minutes later a man named Lamont Cranston appeared in the street below. He walked casually to a car

Lamont Cranston was a famous figure in the social and business life of New York. Enormously wealthy, he

went everywhere. He was seen at the swankiest night clubs, welcomed at the most exclusive homes on Park

Avenue. The only part of New York life that seemingly held no interest for him was the criminal side.

He drove to the home of Daniel French. When he entered the grounds that surrounded the house he was

carrying a bulky leather brief case. But by the time he rang the doorbell his hands were empty. The servant

answering the door bowed as he recognized the identity of the wellgroomed caller.

The butler's attitude was deferential. He took Cranston's hat and stick. But The Shadow detected a strange

constraint on the servant's part. The man seemed to be on edge. He couldn't control the faint flutter of his

"Mr. French told me to conduct you at once to his study." He led the way forward. At the foot of the stairs he

But in the brain of The Shadow a grim thought flashed. That stumble of the butler had been deliberate!

In that moment the featherlight hands of the servant had touched Cranston in an effort to detect a hidden

weapon. The Shadow smiled faintly. He had deliberately come unarmed to the home of French. Watching the

DANIEL FRENCH greeted Lamont Cranston as an old friend. The two men not only moved in the same

social circles, but French's insurance company handled some of Cranston's investments. It was for the latter

reason that The Shadow pretended he had called this evening. He wanted French's advice.

"Do you think I ought to remove my valuables from the Coastal Bank?" Cranston said.

"Simple enough," French smiled. "The police already have a dragnet out for Hilbert. His description has been

broadcast. The moment he emerges from hiding with his infernal leaden box, police will nab him.

Furthermore, even if he reached the door of the Coastal Bank or any other bank he'd be apprehended

"Every bank in the city has doubled its guards. An order has been sent out permitting no customer to enter

any bank carrying a suitcase or even a large parcel. Hilbert is smart enough to have probably learned about

that. Therefore I think your valuables are safe at the Coastal Bank. To shift them elsewhere would be a waste

There was a shifty look in French's eyes as he made his last remark. He turned as though avoiding Cranston's

glance. He seemed glad at the sudden interruption caused by the telephone bell. He picked up the instrument.

Cranston couldn't hear what was said from the other end of the wire, but the effect was startling. French's

The blood drained from his cheeks as he listened. He was the picture of cringing terror.

The Shadow sprang suddenly forward and wrenched the phone from French's trembling hand. He clapped the

But all The Shadow heard was the steady hum of the dial tone. The man who had terrified French so badly

"Did this call have anything to do with the theft at the bank?" Cranston demanded.

His tone was imperious. But it was persuasive, too. Cranston's words invited confidence. French was no

He took a bottle from his desk and downed a quick drink. The bite of the whiskey brought a spot of color to

THE papers stolen from his safedeposit box, said French, contained definite proof of the criminal activity of

two men. They were men high in the business and political affairs of New York. Daniel French had come into

They had threatened to have him killed, unless he kept his mouth shut about certain things he had found out.

French pretended to agree. But he immediately got busy to save himself and his business from attack. He

located the proof he needed and locked it in the box in the Coastal Bank. Then he notified his enemies that if

they made a single move against him, the contents of his lock box would be sent to police headquarters.

"I was afraid," French moaned. "My two enemies are powerful men. I thought I was safer if I held my

evidence as a club over their heads. Now the papers are gone and an unknown killer just phoned me that my

"Graft," French whispered. "A citywide net of corruption that yields millions of dollars in profits!" He drew

Flame leaped into the eyes of The Shadow. But the expression faded instantly. French, who was staring in

William Bokin was a powerful machine politician. Big Bill Bokin, he was called. The Shadow had long

known that Bokin was crooked and unscrupulous. Reformers had made several attempts to put Big Bill in

Arthur Crosby was an equally important figure. He was a lawyer, the cleverest in the city. His specialty was

defending criminals when they got into trouble. His boast was that he had never lost a client to the electric

Crosby and Bokin! And linked to them somehow was a furtive man named Hilbert who possessed a leaden

box of ugly potentialities. To The Shadow, the combination was an ominous challenge.

Suddenly he rose from his chair, tiptoed noiselessly toward the study door. With a quick gesture he flung the

A man was disclosed in the hallway outside. It was French's butler. He kept his nerve in the face of

"I don't believe I've ever seen that servant before. Is he your regular butler?"

French shook his head. The man's name was Parker. He had arrived two days earlier to take the place of

Timmins, who had suffered an unfortunate accident. Timmins had fallen in the cellar and broken one of his

"There must be some mistake. Parker was personally recommended to me by Timmins, and Timmins has

been with me twenty years. Besides, Parker comes from the same reliable agency that sent me Timmins. I

Cranston dropped the subject, and a moment or two later took his departure. Parker was waiting downstairs,

his face impassive. But The Shadow caught a gleam in the blinking eyes of the servant. It warned him to be

A piece of lead pipe whirled swiftly aloft in the dim hallway. It struck at the back of Cranston's skull,

PARKER bent over the sprawled body with a grunt of delight. Not a sound had been uttered that would warn

French, upstairs. Rapidly the crooked servant produced stout lengths of cord, bound the wrists and ankles of

He carried him to a hall closet opposite the telephone stand where the assault had taken place.

But Parker didn't realize the truth of what had just happened. The Shadow was far from unconscious! He had

The blow landed partly on Cranston's scalp, partly on his raised shoulder. It had jarred him badly, but it had

In his guilty haste to shove his victim inside the closet, Parker failed to notice that the bound hands of

He locked the closet door on the outside, leaving the key in the lock. Then he darted across the foyer to the

The Shadow was by this time no longer a helpless bundle on the dark floor of the closet. His clenched palm

had opened. In it lay a small knife a knife that was all blade and no handle. The sharp edge sliced through

He rose noiselessly to his feet. As he did so, his freed hand dipped into an inner pocket. From it The Shadow

produced a pointed instrument, like a shoemaker's awl. He pressed the sharp point against the door panel. A

tiny hole appeared in the soft wood. The click of the dialing phone across the narrow foyer covered the sound

Putting his eye to the hole, The Shadow was able to see the hunched figure of Parker. He was also able to

"Hello?" Parker whispered. "O.K. Get right over! There's two of them to be taken care of. A guy named

Cranston butted in here tonight. I think French told him something. Cranston's locked in the hall closet. But

Parker "scrammed" instantly. The Shadow made no move to halt the disloyal servant. Instead, he took

another tool from the inner pocket of his jacket. This one looked like a longhandled clamp or perhaps a

Presently the front door of the house opened. Through his tiny hole in the door The Shadow watched the

furtive entrance of two thugs. They crept upward toward the study of Daniel French.

They had barely vanished aloft when The Shadow's forceps gripped the end of the key inside the lock. The

key turned quietly. Lamont Cranston glided from the closet. He tiptoed along the hall. But he didn't follow

Across the cellar he raced, and forced open a side window. Outside the window lay a bulky brief case. It had

been placed there by Cranston before he had entered the front door of the mansion.

A quick heave jerked the leather case within the cellar. In a moment a startling transformation took place.

Lamont Cranston disappeared. In his place came the robed figure of The Shadow. Gloved fingers tightened

Swiftly The Shadow raced up the cellar stairs. Laying his brief case down on a foyer table, he followed the

trail of the thugs aloft. He was just in time! A piercing scream came from the study.

A VICIOUS tableau greeted The Shadow as he leaped through the study doorway. One of the thugs had

French bent backward over his desk. The hand of the other thug held a gun muzzle against French's temple.

His appearance stupefied the thugs. The man who had been holding French in a torturing grip released his

hold. Whirling, he tried to claw for his gun. The other thug swerved his pistol barrel in line with the

But The Shadow's .45 was booming, too. He fired a split second before the killer. The heavy bullet struck the

crook's gun and wrenched it out of his hand. The thug fell headlong, his hand and arm paralyzed.

He raced for the window, with his startled partner at his heels. But The Shadow had no time for pursuit.

Without warning, another gun cracked viciously from the rear. The door in the rear of the study had opened

The Shadow dropped to the floor. French, gibbering with terror, flattened himself behind his desk.

While this was happening, there came a tremendous crash of glass from the window of the study. The man

with the wounded hand had flung himself headlong through the pane to the yard below. His pal followed him

Bullets dug into the rug all around The Shadow. But the very intensity of his foes' assault was The Shadow's

best protection. They were shooting too fast and too blindly. The black cloak of the avenger of crime had

unnerved them. They had expected to trap Daniel French and had found The Shadow!

The courage of The Shadow completed their dismay. Unmindful of the whine of lead, he flung himself

upward. He crashed forward in a headlong dive. It carried The Shadow under the spitting flame of criminal

His gloved fingers clutched at the nearest thug. He gave a quick pull. It was enough to yank the crook off

balance and send him staggering. He lurched into the line of fire of his pal. It dropped him, mortally

The second man uttered a yelp of terror. He darted backward and slammed the rear study door. A lock

clicked. The Shadow could hear the killer smashing out the glass of the rear window with his gun butt. He

was leaping downward in a quick retreat from a house that had turned so suddenly into a battlefield for

An instant later The Shadow knew doubly why the thug had beat so swift a retreat. From the street outside the

house came the shriek of a police whistle. The sound of gunfire had attracted attention. Police were rushing to

The Shadow raced out of the study to the front staircase. He went down it with reckless speed. But fast as he

The cop stopped short when he saw the blackcloaked figure confronting him at the foot of the stairs. His

gun swung upward for a shot at what he supposed to be the figure of a criminal. But before he could pull the

In a twinkling he stripped off his coat, removed his slouch hat. The disguise and the twin .45s went into the

The Shadow himself went back into the hall closet. A quick twist of his steel pincers from the inside turned

He heard the yell of a second cop who had raced into the house. The cop leaped up the staircase to French's

BUT it was not The Shadow whom the startled cops released. The dapper figure of Lamont Cranston lurched

He wasn't quite so dapper now. His clothing was rumpled. His eyes bulged with simulated fear. In a choked

voice he told how he had been struck down by the faithless servant of his friend, Daniel French. There was a

He was helped upstairs to the study. French was there, livid with terror. The dead thug on the floor lay in a

With tremulous voice, French explained the mystery of the attack. He told the police that he had moved all

"I lost my confidence in banks," he said. "I thought my valuables would be safer here. But I didn't count on

Inspector Cardona, who had arrived in the wake of the first radio cars, looked unhappy. He knew The

Shadow was no crook. Then why had The Shadow struck down a policeman and escaped with the surviving

Cardona abandoned thinking for action. From Daniel French he obtained an accurate description of Parker,

the butler. He called up the employment agency who had sent the servant. He quickly learned facts that made

Parker was an old and trusted friend of Timmins, who had gone to the hospital a couple of days earlier with a

broken leg from a strange accident in French's cellar. But the Parker who arrived at French's mansion was not

The description of the crooked servant proved that. The real Parker had been waylaid on his way to the

French reported that none of his valuables had been stolen. As he spoke he gave Lamont Cranston an

Cranston knew what French meant. French was reminding Cranston that what he had told him about Big Bill

Cranston, having given his word, would respect that confidence. He said nothing when French denied that he

Shortly afterward, Lamont Cranston left the mansion. As he departed, he picked up a brief case that lay on

No one questioned his right to the ownership of that leather case. The only person who could have testified

that Lamont Cranston had entered the house emptyhanded was the fake butler and he was now a hunted

ARTHUR CROSBY was one of the city's most prominent lawyers. But the house which he owned and in

which he had lived for many years was no indication of either wealth or social position.

It was in a shabby East Side neighborhood. There was a cheap delicatessen on one side, a shabby bakery on

The inside of Crosby's home was in sharp contrast to its shabby exterior. There was an expensive Oriental rug

in the foyer. Lamps and furnishing reflected wealth and good taste. The telephone stand was made of

About an hour after The Shadow had left the uptown mansion of Daniel French, the telephone in Crosby's

A servant answered it. He was a rather oddlooking servant. There was a knife scar across his lower cheek.

One of his ears looked as if it had taken punishment in the prize ring. When he answered the telephone, he

"Hello?... No, Mr. Crosby ain't in. He hadda go up to Albany this afternoon on some important business...

The servant's grin was nasty as he hung up. He went up the stairs to the top floor. There he rapped on a closed

"A guy named Clyde Burke. He's a reporter on the Daily Classic. Said he wanted to write up a feature story

"Four. A guy named Lamont Cranston phoned first. Then Daniel French put in a ring. After that there was a

Crosby grinned. He had thin lips and white teeth. When his lips curled he looked like a shark.

"Just keep on answering the phone. Tell anybody else who calls up the same story: I've gone to Albany. You

A closet door opened and Morello appeared. He wore an excellent suit of conservative cut. His hands were

Actually, Morello was a combination of both. He headed the toughest and bestorganized gang in New York

A lot of righteous folks in New York thought that the policy racket no longer existed. It had been dragged

into the open by a fighting district attorney. Big shots had gone to jail. A couple of criminals had been killed.

Arthur Crosby had a lot to do with that. He was Morello's legal adviser. He received a cut from the criminal

profits. It was concerning the size of his financial cut that Crosby was most interested tonight. That was why

"You can't go along without me, Morello. Remember that if you try to pull any fast stuff!"

"I ain't pulling no fast stuff. Receipts ain't been up to par the last week or so. You ain't accusing me of

"Not by me. If you don't believe that, come up to headquarters tonight and sit in on the payoff. You know

Crosby's eyelid's flicked. His chuckle angered Morello, and the policy leader said:

"Slasher has made boasts that one of these days he's going to rub out my gang and take over the policy racket

himself. I'm gonna have to kill that bird pretty soon! And anybody else who happens to be tied in with him!"

"I told you what to do if you're suspicious! Drop in tonight and watch the payoff. Is that fair?"

Crosby nodded. He became more jovial. The two men downed a couple of drinks. When Morello left, the

MORELLO departed by way of the closet into which he had ducked when the servant had climbed the

It wasn't a closet at all, but a small elevator. It was equipped with two push buttons. When Morello pressed

the lower button, the elevator descended down its secret shaft. It stopped at the basement level. Morello

He was still safe from observation. The front of the cellar was walled off from the rear by a thick barrier of

masonry. It was a handy route for crooks who wanted to confer unseen with the sleek criminal lawyer on the

Morello manipulated a panel in the side of the walled enclosure. He passed through to another cellar. Steps

brought him aloft to a door, which he unlocked with a key. He found himself in the back of the bakery shop

No one paid any attention to him. He walked into the bakery, bought a loaf of bread and departed innocently

A man was posted outside in a spot where he could watch without being himself seen. The man was Harry

Vincent. He was an agent of The Shadow! The Shadow was not satisfied that Crosby was out of town, as his

The only customers in the shop had been women. No man had entered for the past halfhour. How could a

Vincent tipped a signal to the driver of a taxicab parked nearby. The driver was Moe Shrevnitz, another agent

of The Shadow. Heading westward, Moe drove his cab around the corner. Vincent went eastward on foot,

Morello turned the same corner that Slasher Doyle had rounded earlier that afternoon on the trail of Hilbert.

At the first ash can he passed he got rid of his loaf of bread. He turned another corner and walked up the

Morello seemed to have plenty of time. He stopped as if admiring a parked car. The car stood empty in front

Vincent crossed the street. His own car was parked nearby. The taxicab of Moe Shrevnitz was halted at the

upper end of the street. There were two tails ready for Morello, in case he pulled a fast automobile sneak.

But Morello did nothing of the kind. He got out of the parked car and continued his slow walk up the block.

To Moe's delight, Morello hesitated, then got in. The cab shot around the corner and headed up town.

Vincent knew he could depend on Moe. He hurried to the car parked outside the tenement. He couldn't figure

out why Morello had changed his mind about using that car. There was nothing suspicions about it except the

He hurried across the street and waited in his own coupe. He had a strong hunch that the car Morello hadn't

Presently Vincent's hunch was justified. A man emerged quickly from the doorway of the tenement. He was

bundled up in a long coat. The brim of his hat shaded his forehead and eyes. But Vincent recognized him

MEANWHILE, Moe Shrevnitz was having his troubles. Morello had given him an address only a few blocks

away. Moe intended to watch where Morello went, then drive back to Harry Vincent and lay plans for their

But Moe found it wasn't easy to get rid of Morello. The mobster ordered the taxi to stop outside a corner

"Wait here," he growled. "I gotta make a few phone calls. After that we're going uptown."

The booths in the drugstore paralleled the side window. Moe could see Morello standing in the middle booth,

clearly visible through the plate glass of the shop window. Morello seemed to be making plenty of calls. He

But he seemed more interested in the street outside then in the calls he was making. His sullen gaze was

Occasionally, he switched his glance suspiciously toward the hunched figure of his waiting taxi driver. But

Moe was innocence itself. He had opened a tabloid newspaper, seemed to be engrossed in the sport page.

Moe couldn't figure out what was going on. He wondered what Harry Vincent was doing.

Harry wasn't doing anything. Impatient, he sat in his coupe, wondering when the sly Arthur Crosby was

going to get under way. Crosby apparently intended to sit idly in his parked car. Vincent couldn't see what the

Crosby had intended to drive away at once. The sharp prick of a pin in his back had changed his plans. The

pin was stuck into the upholstery of the seat. When Crosby leaned back it jabbed into him and brought a

He couldn't figure how the pin had gotten there. He squirmed around. Then he saw a tiny triangle of white at

Crosby drew out a note. A brief glance at it made the lawyer gasp with alarm. He read:

The alarm faded from Crosby's eyes as he read the note. It was replaced by a look of sly triumph.

He put his car in motion, began what seemed an aimless drive. Whenever a traffic light glowed red, Crosby

There was method in this behavior of his. He was trying to spot the car that he knew was following him.

Fifteen minutes after the strange chase began, Arthur Crosby was completely aware of the color and make of

Vincent's car. A chuckle sounded in Crosby's throat. He headed straight for the Bluebell Garage, near the

There were a couple of portable sidewalk gasoline pumps outside. Crosby asked for five gallons. Then he

The effect was immediate. The man went into the garage. He came out with another man. They looked like

ordinary mechanics in their soiled coveralls. But each of them carried a concealed gun.

HARRY didn't sense danger in these developments. He was too busy watching Crosby's car to see where it

would drive next. Crosby had paid his gasoline bill, but he seemed to be dawdling.

The two garage mechanics who had sauntered down the dark street separated. One of them crossed over and

walked toward Vincent's coupe. As he came abreast of it he paused. Then he reached for the handle of a door

He stepped inside with a quick motion. His body shielded the gun in his hand from the sight of anyone in the

street. Vincent was taken utterly by surprise. One look at the gunman's ugly face and he froze. Harry Vincent

The second mechanic had crossed the street from the opposite sidewalk. As Vincent squirmed obediently, the

The car headed for the entrance of the Bluebell Garage. There was nothing suspicious about it. It looked as if

As the coupe vanished inside the garage, the man to whom Arthur Crosby had first talked lowered the

But there was one observer who knew what was going on. From his taxicab, Moe Shrevnitz had seen the grim

pickup. He was unable to do anything about it, because Morello picked that exact moment to emerge from the

There was nothing for Moe to do but obey. He was trembling with eagerness to report Vincent's capture to

Burbank; but a false move now might ruin everything. Besides, Moe was anxious to find out what Morello's

The Hot Spot was one of New York's gaudiest dimeadance joints. Morello didn't look like the kind of guy

Crosby's car was no longer in front of the Bluebell Garage. Moe wished that he were two people at once, so

he could keep tabs on the man who had lured Vincent to his capture. But he had to watch helplessly as

Crosby went east for only a block or two. Then he halted for a brief moment. He unlocked the trunk carrier at

the rear of his car. From it he took a suitcase. He put the suitcase alongside him on the front seat. Then he

THE Hot Spot Dance Hall occupied the second floor of a corner loft building. The rest of the block looked

like a section of Coney Island. There was a chopsuey restaurant, a shooting gallery and a gyp auction

Moe Shrevnitz had trouble making change when Morello slipped him a bill to pay for the taxi ride. He made

"Sorry, mister. I seem to be all out of silver. Can't you pay me the exact fare?"

When Morello went into the dance hall, Moe put his hand into a pocket of his coat, took out a half dollar. It

wasn't the half dollar Morello had given him. Moe kept this particular coin for emergencies. It was a phony.

He headed for the dancehall entrance. He had a hunch that the place upstairs was a criminal hangout. He

wanted to find out what Morello was doing up there and whom he was meeting. That stuff about a date with a

There were two toughlooking guys at the foot of the stairs. They moved in on either side of Moe as he tried

Moe Shrevnitz went quickly into his indignant act. He waved the fake half dollar under the noses of the

"I got gypped! Look at this phony half. A wise guy slipped it over on me when he paid off my cab. I ain't

But Moe continued to howl about the bum coin. People stopped on the sidewalk to watch. There was a cop on

"Let the dope go upstairs," he said in a low voice. "There's no sense in starting an argument over four bits."

The dance hall was a bedlam of noise. Jitterbugs were cavorting. An orchestra was blaring hot music. Girl

But Moe paid no attention to the girls or the orchestra. He saw that Morello was not among the dancers. Nor

Moe began to move about the place, trying to find out what had become of his criminal fare. His hunt was

Finally Moe headed for a curtained corridor that led to the men's room. That was when he was stopped. A

heavy hand dropped on his shoulder. The manager of the dance joint was scowling.

"What's the idea? Hackies ain't welcome up here! What are you moseying around here for?"

Moe went into his act again. He told all about the phony half dollar. His voice rose angrily. People nearby

The manager didn't like that. His face was red with rage, but he controlled his temper. He drew Moe aside,

"O.K.," the manager said soothingly. "You look like an honest guy. I'll take your word. Here's another half

Moe allowed himself to be eased to the exit. He had found out what he wanted. Morello had some secret exit

from this dance hall. He used the place as a front to get somewhere else. The manager's actions proved that.

His gift of a free half dollar showed that he didn't want to draw any outside attention to Morello's vanishing

Moe drove away in a hurry. He had two important disclosures to transmit to The Shadow. The Hot Spot

Dance Hall was a shield for the activities of one of the biggest mob leaders in New York. The Bluebell

But the news about the garage was the most grimly urgent. Harry Vincent had been snatched out of sight in

VINCENT was well aware of his fate the moment the steel barrier of the Bluebell Garage clanged shut. He

"You're a liar! You tailed Crosby from downtown. We got a phone tip all about it. Who are you and who are

There was no mercy in the narrowed eyes that glared at him; nor were his two captors the only thugs in the

locked garage. Other men came hurrying up. They were dressed in the coveralls of garage mechanics, but that

was their only resemblance to honest workmen. They were as nasty a group of killers as Harry had ever seen.

"Take the mug upstairs," a voice snarled. "Give him a good going over. He'll talk!"

A freight elevator bore Harry and three of his captors aloft. The other thugs waited below, confident that the

They went to work on him on the top floor. It looked like a place where stolen cars were repainted and

changed in appearance. There were half a dozen cars on the concrete floor, some of them partly dismantled.

The search was not gentle. It produced an oath of astonishment from his captors when they discovered Harry

Harry took the hint. He tried desperately to talk his way out of his peril. But it did him no good. His captors

They used a match flame. They used the sharp point of a knife. They weren't afraid of interference from the

outside. The front windows of the garage's top floor were made of opaque glass. The rear windows looked

across a narrow court toward the blank brick wall of a warehouse. At this time of the night there was nothing

to fear. But the thugs shoved a gag into Harry's distended jaws just to make sure.

The gag went back into Harry's month before he could scream. He began to writhe on the concrete floor in

They watched his twitching face like wolves. They knew he was close to the breaking point. Flesh and blood

The thugs were so intent on their job that they failed to notice a slight motion of the garage's rear window. It

was a dirtsmeared window that moved sideways on a pivot. Very gently, the window began to swing open.

Outside that window a man hung precariously in the darkness. One outstretched arm anchored him to the

The darkness helped him. So did the dirtencrusted surface of the window. But even without this aid, it

would have been hard to spot The Shadow. He was robed from head to foot in black. A slouch hat shaded his

THE SHADOW had wasted no time from the moment he had received the message from Moe Shrevnitz,

The narrow opening of the window allowed him to glide through to the top floor of the garage. Only a single

light glowed in the ceiling. That was at the far end of the floor, near the shaft of the freight elevator.

To the thugs working on Vincent in the dim corner, The Shadow paid no attention. He crept along the wall

toward the elevator shaft. His gloved hand noiselessly turned the handle of the door on Vincent's captured

He noted that the ignition key was still in its slot. The Shadow waited, his foot close to the pedal of the

Suddenly the gag was ripped from Vincent's agonized jaws. Vincent's twisted face looked mad. He had lost

all sanity under that hellish torture. He was ready to confess. The crooks realized it.

Instantly, the foot of the robed avenger in the car pressed the starting pedal. The engine roared. The Shadow

It sounded like the smash of gunfire. The sound brought the faces of the three thugs twisting around. They

saw the blackcloaked figure leap from the car and throw itself flat on the oilsmeared floor. Harry's cry was

They mistook the significance of Harry's shriek. They thought that, like themselves, Harry had screamed at

the sight of the intruder. The Shadow's delayed disclosure of his presence had concealed the real relationship

As he flung himself to the floor, his twin .45s began to roar. So did the guns of the thugs. Their gunfire

The noise of the engine was another reason why The Shadow had acted as he did. There were more thugs

downstairs. Their reinforcement would add fatally to the numbers opposing The Shadow. A rush aloft in the

But the thugs below were completely fooled. They stayed where they were. They thought that the explosive

roaring of the car aloft was a device on the part of three torturers to cover the sound of Harry's screaming.

The Shadow sent bullets ripping toward his foes. But it was impossible to fire in three different directions at

once. A slug scorched The Shadow's blackrobed arm. Another pierced his hat. He began to crawl toward the

The three crooks thought that The Shadow was planning a desperate slide down the cable to safety. One of

It was exactly what The Shadow wanted! He had stopped firing in order to fake the fact that his guns were

The gloved hands of The Shadow caught him around the waist as the killer swung his muzzle in line with The

Shadow's stomach. A shove sent the man whirling toward the edge of the open freight shaft. As he struggled

It was done just in time. A bullet whizzed through the empty space where The Shadow had stood. It ripped

There was a fierce yell from below. Thugs on the ground floor had started to move toward the elevator at the

sound of the increased uproar from above. They saw the dead body of their pal crash down on the roof of the

THE SHADOW had to move fast, and he knew it. His guns began to speak afresh. One of the two remaining

thugs on the top floor dropped with a slug through his leg. The other retreated. But the elevator, filled with

The Shadow struck a match, tossed it into a dark pool of oil on the smeared floor.

Instantly a bluish flame spouted. The flame spread swiftly. Before the crooks could leap from the rising

Guns spat at The Shadow through the glare of fire and the pall of greasy smoke, but he was like a flitting

wraith. His powerful grip lifted Harry Vincent from the floor. A stern voice hissed a warning.

Harry was badly hurt, but he was not incapacitated. He was able to squeeze through the rear window with the

aid of The Shadow. The flames had built up a hot wall between the fugitives and their pursuers. Bullets

The Shadow ignored the peril. Swiftly he boosted Harry upward to the curving lid of the roof. Harry got his

fingers over the edge. The shove of The Shadow from below sent him toppling to safety over the edge of the

Whistles were shrieking in the streets. The flames had burst through the front window of the garage's top

floor. An alarm had been turned in. As police rushed toward the blazing garage, sirens of fire apparatus were

The Shadow hurried Harry Vincent to the adjoining roof. He had left the scuttle open as a quick aid to retreat.

Vincent stumbled down a rickety ladder, followed by The Shadow. They raced down dark stairs to the street

Avoiding the street entrance, The Shadow headed Vincent for the rear. They crossed a dark courtyard to a

They emerged into the rear street. The Shadow's car was waiting. A couple of dazed pedestrians saw it

vanish, but there was nothing they could do but yell a vain cry for police help.

Harry took the wheel. The stern whisper of the blackcloaked figure in the back of the car ordered him to do

so. Other orders followed as Harry sped westward. He turned north under the black structure of the West Side

A couple of miles to the northward, Harry halted the car at the spot that The Shadow had stated. He turned to

The Shadow had left the car almost as soon as it had turned into the gloom beneath the express highway. On

Harry grabbed it with trembling fingers. It instructed him to return at once to the Hotel Metrolite, where he

Vincent obeyed that order. His work was through. But for The Shadow, peril was only beginning. He had not

for an instant forgotten the double message of Moe Shrevnitz. The Shadow had grim business at the Hot Spot

But he had been dangerously delayed by his rescue of Harry Vincent. Morello had gained a wide margin of

Every person who entered had to pass the shrewd inspection of a couple of loiterers who stood at the foot of

the stairs. They were not the same thugs who had given Moe Shrevnitz the onceover. Apparently these

A car drove slowly past. The man behind the wheel gave the two thugs a covert glance as he went by. The

sight of them brought a nasty chuckle from him. He parked his car farther down the block and made sure it

The man didn't look as if he could afford a car. His clothing was shabby. He had gray hair and a scraggly

He looked like a peddler, of the sort who carry a cheap array of goods from door to door. Pathetic old

salesmen like this were common in the neighborhood. Usually they had no trouble getting into places to sell a

But the graybearded peddler was stopped by the two guards at the foot of the dancehall staircase. One

The peddler leaned close to the nearest of the two thugs. He whispered a queer word.

The effect was instantaneous. The two thugs relaxed. Suspicion faded from their slitted eyes. Their hands

The peddler climbed the stairs, carrying his heavy suitcase. He started to enter the dance hall. Again he was

stopped, this time by the doorman. His whispered password removed all opposition. The doorman, who was

This was the Hot Spot's manager. He was the same shrewdlidded fellow who had hushed Moe Shrevnitz's

loud squawk about a bum half dollar. His voice was husky, as if he suffered from a perpetual cold.

His hand patted the peddler's arm. The few people hanging around the crowded edge of the dance floor who

saw that gesture thought nothing of it. They didn't see the closed fingers of the dancehall manager slide

It was heavy green velvet. It closed off a corridor that led to the men's washroom. There was no exit sign

above the green curtain to explain why a small red electric bulb was lit there. There didn't seem to be any

The graybearded man with the suitcase ducked behind the heavy curtain. He hurried down a long,

windowless corridor toward the door of the washroom. But his real goal was a different one.

On the side of the dim hallway was another door. It led to what looked like a closet for storing pails and

When it opened, the manager on guard outside the curtain that blocked off the corridor knew what was

happening. He didn't have to peer through the curtain to know that. His eyes were staring upward at the tiny

It was no longer glowing. It had gone out the moment the graybearded man had opened the closet door.

Suddenly the red light came on again. The manager knew by that sign that the closet door was now safely

How slick an arrangement the closet was became evident when the man snapped on a light inside. The closet

But it was steel that didn't delay the graybearded man long. His fingers moved around on the surface of the

The peddler uttered a low grunt of triumph. This had been the toughest part of his masquerade. He had been

afraid he might not be able to locate and operate that panel mechanism. He wiped sweat from his forehead.

He followed a dark passage beyond the camouflaged closet. It seemed to lead directly through the rear wall of

the dancehall building, after turning at a right angle. Steps led upward to a higher level. Then suddenly the

This time he knew how to open it. The mechanism was the same as the previous one. The peddler stepped

The gun was in the grip of a thug. The thug had been sitting idly on a chair, reading a tabloid newspaper. But

"Morello's busy right now," he said. "He's figuring up the take on the adding machine. You can go in after a

The peddler bent over his suitcase. He did it to hide the cruel light in his eyes. He knew exactly where he

was. He had penetrated to the secret headquarters of the Morello mob. Morello himself was in the adjoining

The graybearded man knew well what the police only suspected. Morello's mob controlled the policy racket

Behind the back of the thug in the anteroom was a small mirror on the wall. The thug couldn't see the mirror,

but the graybearded man could. The surface of the glass was gradually turning pink!

Suddenly the suitcase on the floor opened. A leaden box was disclosed. At sight of it the eyes of the thug in

But before he could move, the left hand of the highjacker whipped a grotesque rubber mask from his coat

At the same instant the shielding sides of the leaden box dropped flat. A weird greenish light filled the

The thug had bounded to his feet. But the greenish brilliance from cunningly placed reflectors stopped him in

his tracks. He stood hunched and helpless in midstride, his face a mask of blind terror. His mouth hung wide

open. But the cry that bubbled on his lips was never uttered. His throat was paralyzed.

The man in the protecting mask tested his victim with a light push. The thug fell headlong. He rolled on his

back, his arms and legs sticking up stiffly like the limbs of a dead animal. Only his bulging eyes seemed

A longbladed knife appeared in the clenched hand of the highjacker. It looked like the sort of knife Slasher

There was no mercy in the graybearded man. He killed his fear paralyzed victim instantly with a single

thrust to the heart. Callously he wiped off the crimson blade on the clothing of the dead thug.

Then he picked up the opened lead box and threw wide the door to the adjoining room.

THERE were five professional killers in that adjoining room. One of them was working an adding machine.

The others stood around with drawn guns. Morello, too, was there. But their combined resources for murder

Before they could utter a sound or make the slightest motion, the hellish brilliance of the green terror ray had

The bearded man killed them at his leisure. He moved from one to another with the ugly grace of a panther.

Each time he paused, his crimsoned knife plunged into the heart of a victim. It was a hideous sight like a

Only one man was spared. The terrortransfixed face of Morello stared at the bloody knife. He realized he

The grayhaired highjacker produced stout cord from beneath his clothing and tied up Morello. Then his

masked face glared greedily at the mountain of cash piled high on tables in the room.

It looked like a king's ransom. Bills of various denominations were stacked together. There were singles,

fives, tens. No twodollar bills were there, however. Morello was superstitious about twospots. He never

Satchels on the floor were gorged with silver. No bet was too large for the policy gang to accept. No bet was

The rubbermasked highjacker didn't touch any of his loot yet. Picking up his leaden box, he hurried from the

collection room. He left it by a different door from the one he had entered. He found himself in a dark, dusty

hallway. Hurrying down the stairs, the intruder tiptoed to the rear door of the building.

There was a peephole in the panel. By peering through it, he could see the darkness of a rear yard. A man was

on duty in that yard. He was a lookout for the gang, placed there to prevent any intruder from getting into the

His head turned when he heard a gentle tapping sound from inside the back door. It was a signal the lookout

didn't understand. It worried him. It also tensed him for trouble. His gun was a menacing gleam in the

He stood holding the door casing, incapable of sound or motion. The masked killer had to work hard to pry

his victim's hand loose from the door casing. But with a grunt of exertion he accomplished his purpose.

He yanked the paralyzed thug inside the entry and closed the door. The reddened knife, that looked so much

The masked man returned upstairs with his hellish contrivance. He left it on the floor of the treasure room to

keep the helplessly bound Morello from regaining the use of his voice and screaming for help.

The masked highjacker had to make several trips to carry the loot away. But he didn't miss a dime.

Finally he closed the leaden box. The greenish ray vanished. Slowly, the bloodred mirror on the wall began

to fade to a fainter pink. The highjacker removed the rubber mask that had made him look like a snouted

He removed the tight cords from Morello's ankles. He forced the cringing gang leader to totter to his feet.

Morello's wrists were still bound. He was helpless under the menace of the sharp point of his captor's knife,

"How do you like it, monkey? And who do you think is taking you over? I'll give you one guess!"

MORELLO felt terror creep like ice water through his vitals. He could barely see, let alone think. But his

tongue was beginning to loosen in the absence of the green terror ray. He stared at the bloody knife in the

"I'm taking over your racket, Morello. With the aid of this cute little box! A guy named Hilbert proved to me

that it worked like a charm when he stuck up a bank this afternoon. But you're not dealing with Hilbert now.

He got rid of the box right after the bank job in a place where I told him to. Now I've got it!"

"We're driving some place where you can do some talking. I want to know every detail about your racket and

The captured racket leader stumbled slowly down the staircase to the rear exit from the house. The two men

walked together to the back fence, and a door in the fence swung open. A dark alley communicated with the

At the curb, an automobile was parked. Its engine was idling with a soft murmur.

No one paid any attention to the two men who got into the car. Morello's bound hands were hidden by the

In that car was every penny of tribute collected by the Morello gang. The leather suitcase that contained the

BARELY a few minutes after the car containing the kidnaped Morello had sped away, another automobile

He had raced swiftly there after his rescue of Harry Vincent. But there was no haste in the manner in which

It would have been impossible for anyone to suspect his real identity. His keen eyes were shaded by the brim

of his hat. There was no sign of the black cloak that was the hallmark of The Shadow. His twin .45s were not

On the rear seat of the car was a bulky paper parcel that looked like a package of soiled laundry.

The Shadow didn't take the parcel with him when he alighted from his car. Crossing the street, he slouched

Moe Shrevnitz's report had made many things clear to The Shadow. Morello had entered the dance hall and

had promptly disappeared. It was obvious that he had used the Hot Spot as a camouflaged entrance to a goal

Scrutinizing the building next door to the dance hall, The Shadow noticed that it contained a shooting gallery

The alleyway separated the dance hall from the shooting gallery. An iron gate closed it off from the sidewalk,

but the gate was not locked. It didn't seem to lead anywhere. At its inner end was a wooden fence.

As he retraced his steps to the corner and turned down the side street, The Shadow's smile was grim.

He was interested in the building that adjoined the dance hall on this side street. It was dilapidated and old.

There was a dingy "For Sale" sign plastered on its front door. The sign looked as if it had been there for a

It was The Shadow's suspicion that this dilapidated old building explained the magical disappearance of

Morello. An alley separated it from the building farther down the street. But on the side where it bordered the

corner dance hall there was no alley. The two buildings had a party wall. If Morello had used a secret exit

The Shadow went back to his parked car, picked up the bulky paper parcel. His goal was the alleyway with

No one saw him enter. He closed the gate quietly behind him. In a moment he had reached the wooden fence

He found that a small door had been cut into the fence. It opened easily. The Shadow stepped into the yard of

The setup had all the earmarks of a trap. But if trap it was, The Shadow intended to enter it nevertheless.

The house at which The Shadow stared from the darkness of the back yard was undoubtedly Morello's

Patiently The Shadow worked at the rear door with a shining steel implement. The tool was devised for just

The Shadow himself seemed part of the darkness. His slouch hat shielded the upper part of his face. The

black cloak he wore protected his mouth and chin and left only a small blur of his face visible. Black gloves

Presently the lock on the door gave way. The steel tool vanished from sight. It was replaced by the dull gleam

Gently The Shadow opened the door. Its welloiled hinges made not the slightest squeak. A moment later

A TINY pencil of light glowed in The Shadow's hand. It focused on the body on the floor. A faint indrawn

breath was the only physical reaction on the part of The Shadow to the ugly sight of murder.

A knife had plunged into the dead man's heart. The knife had been yanked out and taken away by the

murderer. The dead man's clothing showed that the killer had calmly wiped his blade clean before he had

With every muscle rigid, The Shadow listened in that dark lower hall. The house was like a tomb. The

He found a horrible sight on the top floor. The victim on the ground floor was only the prelude to a mass

murder. Five mobsters, all of them gorillas of Morello lay in a bloody shambles on the floor. All of them had

Suddenly a faint hue of color on the wall caught The Shadow's eye. A mirror was hanging there a mirror

that was tinged a faint pinkish color. The pink was fading fast. As The Shadow watched it, the glass became

There was only one reason for that faint pink in the mirror: The fear ray! The strange greenish glow that had

paralyzed the employees at the Coastal Bank. It had been used again this time to wipe out an entire gang of

The Shadow saw how thorough the massacre had been when he stepped into a small, windowless room that

adjoined the slaughter chamber. Here he found another corpse stabbed to the heart. The dead man was

The Shadow guessed the ugly answer. The leaden box with the fear ray had locked the victim's lips. It had

turned him into a terrified statue easy meat for the long knife of Slasher Doyle.

Noting the direction of the dead guard's eyes, The Shadow stepped over the rigid body and approached the

opposite wall. It was painted an even buff color. It seemed to be ordinary plaster. But by careful rapping

It took considerable time to locate the concealed mechanism, but finally the panel swung noiselessly open. A

It vanished through the wall in the direction of the adjoining dancehall building.

The passage explained how Morello had reached this house from the dance hall. But why hadn't Morello been

That was the only possible answer. The murderer had taken away with him the kingpin of the policy racket.

Torture was undoubtedly in store for Morello. He would be forced to spill everything he knew about the inner

Slasher Doyle faded from The Shadow's calculations. Slasher could never have sneaked in through the dance

hall. He was too well known to Morello's mob. Tough as he was, he wouldn't dare risk his life in so reckless

an assault. And there must have been a password. How could Slasher Doyle have known it?

The mysterious figure of Hilbert began to assume more important proportions. Morello had hurried to the

dance hall after a secret conference at the home of Arthur Crosby, the lawyer. Was Crosby in league with

THE SHADOW didn't attempt to enter the tunnel. There was no need for that. He closed the wall panel and

It was swept clear of money, but The Shadow knew that greed had been the motive for the robbery. The

adding machine on one of the tables showed an amazing total. The killer had escaped with a rich haul, in

Suddenly The Shadow stiffened. There no sign of danger in that corpsestrewn room, but a sixth sense

He tiptoed to the shuttered window. Raising the shade slightly, he peered down into the side street on which

the house fronted. In a moment he became aware of the nature of the peril he faced.

He could see three or four men lounging on the sidewalk across from the front of the house. They were

A quick dart through the darkened house to a rear window showed The Shadow that his rear escape was cut

off, too. More detectives were quietly entering the back yard through the door cut in the alley fence.

Someone had tipped off the police that there was something badly wrong inside the house.

The Shadow whirled and retreated. He took the only course left to him. He headed for the roof. A rickety

He wasn't much better off when he found himself under the black sky. The gap that divided the house from

its neighbor on the side street was a wide one. It would take desperate recklessness to bridge that gap, even

Like a dark blot in the gloom, The Shadow tiptoed toward the corner building that housed the dance hall. The

dancehall floor was below the level of the roof where The Shadow stood. But the corner building towered

The Shadow prepared to climb a vent pipe to the nearest of those dark sills. But he had hardly grasped the

pipe to haul himself upward when a window shade above his head lifted. A face was disclosed. The face of a

As the cop saw the blackrobed figure on the roof he yelled a savage warning to his comrades in the street.

He was unable to leap downward to the roof to attack The Shadow because his window was protected by iron

Flame split the darkness. Slugs whizzed dangerously close to The Shadow. But he took his chances on death

from the rear. He didn't attempt to duck or to zigzag. Only one course was left to him.

He raced at headlong speed toward the gap that separated Morello's house from the adjoining one. It was

An ordinary man would have instinctively slackened his pace as he approached that dreadful gulf. But The

Shadow ran even faster. He forgot about the depth and thought only of the width.

He struck at the edge of the opposite roof with a jarring crash. One knee landed solidly, the other slipped off

into space. The Shadow's hands clutched fiercely as he began to topple backward.

The impetus of his forward leap added to the power of his clutching hands. Before the tug of gravity could

whip him loose and smash him to bloody paste on the pavement below, The Shadow flung his teetering body

He staggered to his feet. In an instant he was racing toward the square outline of a roof scuttle. The lid was

padlocked, but the hasp that held the lock was old and rusted. The Shadow seized it with both hands and

The Shadow raced down a ladder into a closet similar to the one in Morello's house.

THIS was a rooming house. People were already beginning to peer outdoors, roused by the sound of Police

Most of the roomers ducked back with yells of fright as they saw the blackrobed figure racing down the

stairs with giant leaps. But one man was made of sterner stuff. He had time to grab for a gun. He leaped in

The Shadow ducked toward the stair rail. Then he was up again like a rebounding football player. His fist

struck the armed man in the jaw. The man's gun flew from his hand as he toppled, unconscious.

The Shadow leaped over the slumped figure at the head of the stairs. He fled downward.

A door on the ground floor slammed. A screaming woman vanished into her room as The Shadow sprinted

toward the rear door. The interruption was exactly what he wanted. A faint thump inside the room told The

Shadow that the terrified woman had fainted. When she recovered she'd tell the police that the fugitive had

The Shadow whirled silently. He left without haste by the front door of the rooming house.

But not as The Shadow. Gone was his black robe and the bulletpierced slouch hat.

The street was in a tremendous uproar. Police had attacked the building next door at the first sound of shots

from the roof. They were battering down the metal barrier to Morello's stronghold. All eyes were on the

The Shadow faded into the crowd of spectators. Rounding the corner, he slipped into his parked car. A

TWO hours later, newsboys in the midtown district were shouting strident extras. The news was sensational:

Morello's body had been found. Small boys playing in a vacant lot in Brooklyn had stumbled upon the mob

A man emerging from Grand Central Station heard the newsboys. He bought a paper and scanned the

Crosby had just arrived on a train from Albany. It was not a through express, but one that stopped at many

intermediate stations. Crosby had commented on its slowness as he stopped for a moment at the information

He took pains to let the attendant know that he was Arthur Crosby, a famous lawyer whose time was

He was about to enter his front door after the departure of the cab when something happened that Arthur

Crosby had not figured on. A shabbily dressed man stepped out of the doorway. He attacked the lawyer with

a hard punch that sent him sprawling. Then he grabbed Crosby's suitcase and fled.

The lawyer staggered to his feet. A small pistol jerked from his pocket. He fired at the fleeing thief. But his

aim was hasty, and the thief had obtained too good a start. The fugitive vanished into a waiting taxicab near

Crosby had no chance to pursue. But he uttered a strange sound for a man who had been robbed. He laughed!

He was still chuckling when a policeman arrived, drawn by the sound of Crosby's fruitless gunfire. The cop

touched his cap respectfully as he recognized the lawyer. He asked what had happened.

Crosby minimized the loss of his suitcase. Again he mentioned his trip from Albany. He gave the cop a cigar

and told him to forget about the suitcase theft. It didn't amount to a row of pins, he declared.

Meanwhile, a mile or two away from the scene of the robbery, a shabby man with trembling hands was

opening the straps of the suitcase. He was still in the taxi in which he had escaped. The driver was Moe

Clyde opened the heavy suitcase with a beating heart. Then his jaw dropped. All that was inside the leather

THE home of William Bokin was in many respects a counterpart of the brownstone house where Arthur

It was in a shabby downtown neighborhood. The people who lived in this area were mostly tenement

But Big Bill Bokin had been born in this neighborhood, and he was smart enough not to move away. His

business was machine politics. And machine politics depends on votes. So, although Big Bill was rumored

now to be almost a millionaire, he continued to live in this squalid district where his boast was that he knew

Tonight Clyde Burke was watching Bokin's home from behind a shadedrawn window across the street.

Clyde was there on orders from The Shadow. He had been substituted for Harry Vincent, who was now out of

Not for an instant had The Shadow forgotten the terrified disclosure which Daniel French had made to him.

French had named Bill Bokin and Arthur Crosby as the two men who were probably behind the vault theft at

The Shadow wasn't taking any chances of a fresh move by either of these suspects. The homes of both Bokin

Presently Clyde Burke stiffened behind the pinpoint hole he had punched in the drawn shade of his

It was impossible to tell who the man was. His hat brim was pulled low over his forehead. The collar of his

coat was turned up. He gave a glance to left and right, then he rang Bokin's front doorbell.

Clyde didn't delay, either. He backed swiftly away from his post behind the drawn shade, reached for the

For ten seconds the room was bathed in electric light. Then the light clicked out again. The signal was

The Shadow had no idea who had entered Bokin's home. From where he stood he was unable to see the

sidewalk in front of the main entrance. But he had a good view of the hideaway where Clyde Burke was on

He was in a concretepaved service alley used by tradesmen in making deliveries. His black cloak made him

seem part of the darkness. Having retreated to a spot near the kitchen door of Bokin's home, he waited

Clyde's cooperation was necessary for The Shadow to gain an entrance into the politician's house. There

were steel bars on all the side and rear windows of the lower floor. In addition to this, the house was

protected by a burglaralarm system. The slightest tampering with any of the upper windows would bring

The Shadow waited, protected by darkness. In his blackgloved hands was a small bunch of highly efficient

A moment later Clyde Burke crossed the street. He passed a parked car, its engine running. Walking quickly

to Bokin's front door, he rang the bell. Then he raced back to the car at the curb. In a moment the car was

The ring of the doorbell was heard by a servant in the rear pantry of Bokin's house. Scowling, he moved to

answer it. His scowl didn't improve his looks. Actually, he was an exconvict; had done a short stretch at

Sing Sing. But it suited Bokin's purposes to keep a man like this as his servant.

When he found no one at the front door, the servant cursed. He stepped outside and peered up and down the

street. He decided that some little rat of a kid had pulled the trick. Fake doorbell ringing by kids was a

THE SHADOW profited by this simple stratagem. Before the scowling servant could return to the pantry,

one of The Shadow's special keys had turned the lock of the back door. The Shadow was hidden in a shallow

As soon as the man was out of sight, The Shadow glided ahead. His luck was bad. One of the floor boards

creaked faintly. Tiny as the sound was, it was heard by the servant. He whirled and whipped out a gun.

But he was suspicious enough to move through the entire lower floor of the house. Standing in the doorway

He went back to the kitchen. Presently The Shadow could hear the faint clink of a glass and a bottle.

The Shadow was still in the dining room. He had doubled himself up in the lower compartment of a linen

closet. The servant's decision that he was "getting jumpy" had come before he had time to make a complete

When The Shadow's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, almost immediately he made a most

interesting discovery. There was a square space on the papered wall that looked slightly lighter than the rest

The mental answer of The Shadow to that question was no. His scrutiny of the room showed him that

something else was missing. A mirror had been removed from the top of a massive sideboard. It was a fair

assumption that the object that had been removed from the wall was a mirror, also.

Gliding across the hall, The Shadow ascended the stairs. The house was in darkness except for a faint glow of

light from the top floor. Taking advantage of the darkness, The Shadow examined every one of the

secondfloor rooms. His search didn't take much time. He was looking for mirrors.

The whisper of The Shadow's mirth made a tiny sibilant sound. Mirrors were the only clue that could testify

to the hidden presence of the leaden box that had been used by Hilbert in his raid on the Coastal Bank. The

Shadow knew that the mere presence of the box caused a strange chemical change in the quicksilver with

Silently The Shadow continued toward the top floor. Bokin's mysterious visitor tonight might be Hilbert

The Shadow could hear a faint hum of voices from the front room. Two men were talking in low voices. The

Shadow, however, didn't tiptoe along the upper hall to listen at that closed door. It was too risky. Besides, the

open door of a rear room suggested a better possibility. The mumble that The Shadow could hear indicated

He entered the rear chamber and found it was Bokin's bedroom. As The Shadow had divined, a passage

connected it with the sitting room in front. A heavy velvet curtain closed off the entrance to the front room.

Moving with infinite stealth, The Shadow took up a position behind the heavy drape.

There was a spot near the floor where the curtain gapped slightly. The Shadow found that he was able to see

He received a stunning surprise when he realized the identity of Bokin's guest. It was not Hilbert, as The

THERE was a vicious scowl on Slasher's face. One of his hands was idly playing with something he had

"Cut out the gabbing!" Slasher snarled. "I didn't come here to talk. You sent for me. What do you want,"

Bokin laughed. He was a big man, but his girth wasn't all fat. There was plenty of bone and sinew in him.

"Put your rat skewer away, Slasher," he growled. "You can't scare me a dime's worth!"

"Why did you bump off the policy mob and kidnap Morello? Why did you stab Morello to death later on and

It was a quiet question, softly uttered. But the effect on Slasher was startling. With an oath, he leaped to his

"You're a blasted liar! I didn't raid that joint back of the dance hall. I didn't even know it was there. What the

"Sit down," Bokin muttered. "I brought you here to talk business. Big business!"

"I happen to know that you ran into a lucky break the other day. You were outside the Coastal Bank at the

time Hilbert stuck it up with the green fear ray of his. You trailed Hilbert on his getaway and kidnaped him.

So you must have the box! And you must be the guy who used it on Morello and his policy gang!"

"You find out things, don't you? Sure, I picked up Hilbert! But I didn't get hold of the lead box. He ditched

the thing somewhere before I grabbed him. I haven't been able to make him tell where."

"Yeah?" Slasher's voice was shrill. "Here's something else that's phony. I notice there's no mirrors in this

"Why did you get rid of 'em? Afraid they might turn bloodred and give you away?"

"The mirrors were stolen yesterday. Somebody got into the house while Terry and myself were away. He

"The guy must have had a key. Terry said he found scratches on the lock of the back door."

Bokin's voice didn't carry much conviction, but Slasher let the argument pass. He came back to his original

"I want you to team up with me," Bokin said. "I don't have to tell you that I did business with Morello good

business. Now Morello's gone. You're ambitious, Slasher. You always hated Morello's guts. You've schemed

"Smart enough to make Hilbert spill everything he knows about the whereabouts of that lead box. You admit

you got him a prisoner somewhere and that you went to work on him. Why didn't he talk?"

"I went to work on him too hard," Slasher admitted. "He confessed that he had designed the box and its

contents, but he claimed the fear ray was an accident. The thing was supposed to be a portable television set.

"Hilbert doesn't know what error he made that produced the green ray. He swears the invention is a mystery

to him. He doesn't know how to duplicate it. It has something to do with quicksilver mercury, he called it."

"HILBERT said he took the box to some guy for financial backing. He thought it might be a honey of a

device to use in modern warfare. Knock whole armies cockeyed with terror, then disarm and capture them.

But the guy he went to had other ideas. He saw crime possibilities! He persuaded Hilbert he was a sucker not

"So Hilbert tried it out at the Coastal Bank. He picked French's safedeposit box for the tryout, because the

guy he made the deal with told Hilbert he was interested in something that French had in that box."

"Who is the guy?" Bokin growled. "Why didn't you make Hilbert squeal?" "I tried to," Slasher growled. "It

didn't do no good. Hilbert was more scared of his boss than he was of my torture. I gave him plenty! He got

me so damned mad I overdid it. The mug passed out. When I revived him, Hilbert was delirious. He's still out

of his mind. And I still don't know who his boss is the guy who has that lead box right now."

Big Bill Bokin sighed. His eyes lost some of their tension at the news that Hilbert's secret was still locked in a

"You can't do anything without dough, Slasher," Bokin said. "Why not team up with me? I can make you the

most powerful gorilla in town and take care of the political and police end, too. All we need is the name of

"It's a deal. You and me. We'll run this damned town like it's never been run before! We'll work on this mug

Slasher named a spot on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. It was a rotting and abandoned pier on

some waterfront property that had once been a brickyard. Slasher knew all about it because he owned it. He

had used it before to get rid of bodies that were still listed in the police files as missing.

The Shadow, crouched rigidly behind the curtain, didn't miss a word of that important information. He began

He fished out the bottle from a drawer in his desk. His hands were trembling as he poured out two drinks. But

his voice was like cold steel. A suspicion of a triumphant sneer twisted his heavy lips.

"Here's to you and me, Slasher! Two pals who can see millions of bucks around the corner. All we have to do

is to find out the name of Hilbert's boss." His smile deepened. "It all depends on Hilbert. It would be tough if

They drained their drinks. Bokin pushed aside the heavy velvet drapes and entered his bedroom. He told

He took the gun out of a bureau drawer. But that wasn't all he took. A knife went into one of Big Bill Bokin's

pockets. It was protected by a leather covering. It didn't make any bulge in the shape of the pocket.

He had made a silent fadeout down the carpeted stairs. Boldly he left the house by the front door. But not as

a blackrobed intruder. The few people in the street who saw him emerge didn't give him a second glance.

There was a strained, urgent look on The Shadow's face. He had to race to New Jersey in a lightning hurry.

IT was pitch dark along the New Jersey shore. The road that ran close to the edge of the Hudson River was a

lonely one. Most traffic whizzed smoothly along on the excellent paved highway on the heights above the

The Shadow parked his car behind a screen of scraggly bushes. Across the Hudson he could see the twinkling

lights of Manhattan. But the shore line of New Jersey at this point was desolate.

A few empty wharfs jutted out into the black current. All of them had lapsed into decay. The Shadow eyed

those wharfs with grim interest. Three of them were nothing more than narrow jetties, their sagging planks

It was the fourth pier that The Shadow approached. A faded sign showed that it had once been a part of a

brick works. Years ago, river barges had carried building material to many a construction project. But fire

It was an ideal spot for a crook like Slasher Doyle to bring victims whom he was anxious to put out of the

The Shadow was certain that Hilbert was a prisoner inside this dark pier. He had listened carefully to the

directions Slasher had given Big Bill Bokin at their criminal conference in the politician's home. The Shadow

A glance at the locked door at the shore entrance of the pier confirmed The Shadow's suspicion. The ground

in front of that door was sifted an even white. It was impossible to get close enough to touch the knob of the

door without stepping on that powdery white material and leaving a telltale footprint.

The Shadow's electric torch played briefly on the knob. A thin dusting of powder covered the knob, too.

Someone, anxious to make sure that no intruder could get in unnoticed, had smeared the knob with a paste of

Moving away in the darkness The Shadow headed riverward, toward the side of the pier.

The ground sloped sharply from the edge of the road to a muddy tide flat. The river current had piled

driftwood into this forgotten little cove. Crates and boxes were mired, waiting for the morning tide to float

them off again. Two or three logs had grounded. The Shadow pried the biggest log free.

Sitting astride the halfsubmerged log, he paddled his unwieldy craft out into the black river. His goal was a

window out near the end of the covered structure. No light came front that window. There was no glass in it.

The window was fairly high above the river's surface. The log bobbed uneasily as The Shadow rose gingerly

He hung by his fingertips from the high sill, while the log spun away under the impetus of his kick. Then The

Shadow chinned himself. He got one forearm braced on the sill. A sharp knife appeared from beneath his

His torch was taped over the lens so that only a tiny ray cut the gloom. But the light, feeble as it was, showed

A cot stood in a dark, cobwebbed corner of the covered pier. On the cot lay a man. He was writhing feebly,

moaning in pain. His struggles did him no good. He was tied securely to the cot, bound hand and foot. A gag

was stuck in his jaws, but he had managed to chew part of it away. That was why his faint moaning was

HILBERT was in terrible shape. His cheeks were sunken and starvedlooking. His eyes were shiny with

delirium. On his bared feet and chest were the marks of vicious torture. Flame had been used.

Semidelirious as Hilbert was, the memory of that torture was still a horrible reality in his brain. He cringed

"Slasher... please! Don't hurt me any more! I don't know where the box is. I put it where I was told in the

The Shadow's eyes were soft with pity as he stared down at this tortured human wreckage. Gently he cut the

From an inner pocket of his robe he took a small bluetinted bottle. When he uncorked it, an odor like

camphor filled the musty air inside the covered pier. The Shadow held the bottle to the lips of the moaning

The effect was magical. The shiny light faded from the glaring eyes. Madness was replaced by a look of

Quickly, The Shadow began to talk. Every syllable he uttered carried power and conviction. He repeated his

words over and over. He told Hilbert that he had come to save him. There was no mistaking his sincerity.

Painracked as Hilbert was, he began slowly to realize that no more torture was in store for him.

"Mercury vapor that's what it was. But how? I don't know. It turns mirrors red. That's because of their

"I tried... to experiment. No use. I can't do it again. Don't know how. Went to man... financial backing... Told

me crime was easier. Promised... money. Millions! Oh, please stop... Slasher! Don't!"

The staring eyes filmed. Hilbert began to rave. Patiently The Shadow pierced the man's madness with the

Hilbert hesitated. He knew that The Shadow was not an enemy, but a friend. But terror made his clenched

The final word was blurred in a sudden shriek. With a wild leap, Hilbert sat erect on the cot. He was staring at

The Shadow whirled. He faced the window through which he had entered the pier a few minutes earlier.

It was like a pale blur. The Shadow had only a split second's glimpse of it. Then it vanished. In its place came

Hilbert was directly in line with that murderously flung weapon. He was too terrified to move.

The Shadow had no time to think. His action was purely automatic. His black cloak flung outward as the

thrown knife turned over in midair. He held the cloak like a shield in front of Hilbert.

So close did the knife strike to The Shadow's ribs that he felt a searing pain. But the handle of the knife was

heavy. And the material of the cloak was strong. The handle didn't follow the sharp blade through the rip in

A swift glance showed The Shadow that Hilbert was unhurt. Terror had caused him to faint.

The pier window was now vacant. The Shadow raced toward it. In an instant he was astride the sill, staring

down into the murky darkness of the river. In a boat, the killer was shoving fiercely shoreward with a single

oar which he poled furiously against the muddy bottom. His face was hidden by his straining shoulders. He

The Shadow could have killed him with a single wellaimed shot. But no flame spat through the darkness.

The Shadow didn't want to kill the man who had tried to seal Hilbert's lips. He wanted that man alive!

Into the black river dived The Shadow. He swam in a straight line toward the shore. The fugitive had already

leaped from the bow of his boat as it grounded on the shelving mud. He fled into the gloom of the steep bank

An instant later The Shadow was floundering through the mud. His feet slid and skidded. But although it

The marks of the killer's feet led directly to a round, yawning hole. It was an enormous pipe a sewer pipe.

ONLY a tiny trickle of water came from the blackness within the pipe. Evidently it had long since been

The Shadow flung himself flat as bullets roared from the interior of the pipe. He returned the fire. The fact

that the killer had taken refuge in the pipe was proof that he expected to escape. The Shadow's only hope now

was to wound the man before he vanished like a scuttling rat through the bowels of the earth.

The gun duel didn't last very long. A yell of pan came from the interior of the sewer pipe. It was followed by

However, The Shadow was too old a hand at the pursuit of criminals to take things at their face value. He was

certain his foe was Slasher, from the brief glimpse he had received of the face at the pier window. Slasher's

Noiselessly, The Shadow crawled forward on his stomach. His black cloak made him part of the darkness

within the hollow pipe. He could see nothing. All he could hear was the faint trickle of muddy water. The

His outstretched hand felt cautiously for the solid obstruction of a man's legs. He touched nothing human.

His questing fingers had touched another upright piece of wood. A smaller horizontal piece joined to them.

It brought The Shadow quickly to his feet. A click of his electric torch filled the pipe with light. The ladder

was at the very end of the tunnel. Beyond it, farther progress was impossible. A huge rock blocked the pipe.

Climbing the ladder, The Shadow thrust against the metal cover. It was not locked. It fell away at his

The robed avenger of crime wriggled through the opening into the fresh air above.

He was standing amid a patch of weeds and bushes on the cliff side of the river road. Nearby was a small

clearing where a car had been hidden. Tire marks showed it had been swiftly driven away. Slasher had made

The Shadow raced to the place where he had hidden his own car. It was in a similar spot, protected by a

All four of the tires were flat on the ground. A knife had slashed the rubber to ribbons.

The Shadow returned to where Slasher had fled. His first hasty observation of the ground had shown him

something that he wished to verify. A quick glance under the glow of his torch confirmed his knowledge.

Slasher wasn't the only fugitive who had escaped! The footprints of two men were visible in the soft earth.

The thought of Bokin's presence filled The Shadow with sudden fear for someone else. He darted across the

road to the locked front door of the covered pier. The white powder on the doorknob was smeared!

The Shadow seized the knob and twisted it. The door was unlocked. The Shadow ran to the cot where he had

A knife had been driven into his heart. The weapon had been jerked loose and taken away by the killer. A

The Shadow remembered the sly look on Bokin's face when he had eavesdropped through the velvet curtain

in the politician's home. Bokin had shown dismay at Slasher's eagerness to discover the identity of the secret

If Bokin had the leaden box in his possession, it would be logical for him to shut Hilbert's mouth. Slasher

Bokin could play with Slasher as a cat plays with a mouse. He could doublecross him and kill him at will.

The Shadow's eyes were grim as he stared down at the bloody corpse of the inventor whose lips were now

THE SHADOW was in his sanctum. He sat at a desk outlined in a blue glow from an overhead light. His eyes

But The Shadow was neither hypnotized nor asleep. His brain was concentrated on one of the most baffling

crimes in his career. Apparently he hadn't advanced an inch since the first appearance of the fearray

But The Shadow had found out many things concerning the men whose activities revolved around that leaden

Some could already be eliminated. Hilbert was dead. So was Morello. Slasher Doyle had been propositioned

by Big Bill Bokin as the logical choice to succeed to the leadership of Morello's mob.

The Shadow dismissed Slasher from consideration. He was a ruthless killer, but no supercriminal. The

Shadow knew positively that Slasher did not possess the leaden box. Slasher had gone to Bokin's home

Bokin had talked Slasher out of that idea. The two had teamed up. The death of Hilbert had followed as soon

Other facts pointed to the cunning politician. The absence of mirrors in Bokin's home was odd. His story, that

they had been stolen during his absence, sounded as weak to The Shadow as it had to Slasher. But The

Shadow's mental processes went a step farther than the slow thinking of Slasher Doyle.

The very weakness of Bokin's explanation was a point in his favor. A guilty man would have thought up a

more reasonable story. Perhaps Bokin had actually spoken the truth about the strange disappearance of the

Arthur Crosby's conduct, too, was subject to varying interpretations. Cosby and Morello had been in close

contact. Crosby had betrayed Vincent to the thugs at the Bluebell Garage. It was entirely possible that Arthur

Crosby was the disguised highjacker who had made the treacherous raid on the headquarters of Morello's

On the other hand, Crosby's leather suitcase had not contained the fearray machine. True, Crosby had lied

about his trip to Albany. He had boarded a train at some wayside stop to build up an alibi that he had been out

of town. But the suitcase crammed with personal belongings was a strong point in his favor.

Suddenly the closed eyes of The Shadow opened. A light on the wall was blinking. It was a signal for which

The Shadow had been waiting. His tapering fingers plucked a set of earphones from beneath the wall light.

"Agent, Harry Vincent. Subject, Arthur Crosby. Crosby left home two minutes ago. Carried heavy brief case.

"Not known. Crosby drove away in car. Car contains no rearvision mirror. Clyde Burke assigned to follow.

The Shadow hung up. Another report would come soon. While he waited, The Shadow resumed his mental

Gaylord seemed an innocent figure, but he formed a part of the intrigue. He was one of Daniel French's best

friends, a frequent visitor at his office. The stunt Hilbert had used to get into the bank vault might have been

treacherously arranged beforehand by Gaylord. To get hold of one of French's letterheads would have been

Daniel French, too, was not far from The Shadow's calculations. French had been in peril once. He might be

attacked again. An agent of The Shadow was now guarding French's home. Other agents were watching the

Presently The Shadow again answered the blinking wall light. Burbank's voice relayed a message from Clyde

"Crosby drove to Metropolis Jewelry Co. on Madison Avenue. Went inside, carrying bulging brief case.

The Shadow's laughter was ominous as he hung up. It seemed impossible that a leaden box of the size and

weight used at the Coastal Bank could be crammed into a brief case. Perhaps that was why The Shadow

The light above his desk vanished. Darkness blotted out the sanctum. Protected by that darkness, The Shadow

CLYDE BURKE was nervous. He stood in a doorway on Madison Avenue, watching the ornate entrance of

Nothing startling had happened after the disappearance of Arthur Crosby inside. The uniformed doorman had

nodded respectfully to the famous lawyer. Then he had taken his place on the sidewalk to watch for the

Clyde was under strict orders to keep out of the shop until the arrival of The Shadow. He wondered if Crosby

Presently he saw the doorman hurry to the curb. A car was coming to a halt. To Clyde's disgust, a woman

emerged. The attendant escorted her politely across the sidewalk. Then a startling change came over his face.

It was an ornately arranged show window. Rings and precious stones were displayed in shallow trays. But it

The attendant flung open the shop door. He didn't utter a sound, but a dreadful spasm of terror twisted his

Clyde had to push him violently aside to peer into the shop. The Shadow's agent had drawn a gun. He took a

His eyes were glued helplessly on an open leaden box that stood on one of the counters inside the store.

Concealed reflectors threw out an eerie greenish glow. It bathed every part of the interior of the store with

Everyone inside the shop was in the same predicament as Clyde. Clerks leaned stiffly at their counters.

He was wearing a snouted mask that made him look like a visitor from Mars. It fitted over his head like a

Rubber circlets protected his ears. Goggles shielded his eyes behind tinted brownish glass. His mouth and

nose, too, were protected. Evidently the ray affected all human senses ears, eyes, nose, throat.

The masked man was able to move without trouble. He raced like an arrow to the rear of the shop. There was

a small room there, a reception room built for the comfort of customers who preferred to examine gems in

The masked man peered into the room. But he made no attack. A sound bubbled from beneath his mask. It

He raced back toward his leaden box. On the way he paused at another counter. A tray of rings was on

display there. The masked man's back was turned. It was impossible to tell whether he took the rings or not.

By this time the street outside the jewelry shop was in an uproar. A policeman had darted into the front

entrance, gun in hand. But the masked man paid no attention. He didn't have to. The cop was as frozen by the

The masked man snapped shut the leaden box. He vanished toward the rear door of the shop.

FOR a few moments nothing happened. The aftereffects of that sinister green ray were potent. Then slowly

Clyde felt his stiffened body returning to normal. The crazy and inexplicable terror faded from his brain. He

He fell to the floor. At his side he heard a shout. The cop, too, was coming out from the influence of the

There were two figures. The first was already in headlong flight out the back door. The second turned his face

He was carrying a stuffed leather brief case. It was the same one he had carried into the shop earlier. He had

drawn a gun. It flamed viciously at the pursuing cop, pitching him headlong with a bullet through his leg.

A moment later Crosby was out of sight. He darted through a back courtyard and emerged in the side street

and flung himself into a parked car whose engine was purring. He drove the car speeding away.

Police, boiling around the corner, were unable to halt him. Crosby headed westward at a mad pace.

The Shadow had suddenly appeared from nowhere like a wraith of blackness. No one knew where he had

come from. Pedestrians scattered in panic as the cloaked figure darted across the sidewalk and raced out into

The Shadow sprang in front of a car. Dazed, the driver instinctively halted. A quick clutch hauled the man

He was in the commandeered car when Arthur Crosby fled from the rear of the jewelry shop and started to

race away. The Shadow swung the wheel. He turned the car in a swift semicircle. It brought the vehicle

Then The Shadow leaped clear. He escaped just in the nick of time. There was a grinding roar as the two

automobiles crashed together. They bounced up on the sidewalk in a tangled mass. The wreckage collided

Crosby crawled out of the wreckage. He limped badly, but there was no surrender in him. He was still

holding his gun. He aimed it toward the police who rushed to make him a prisoner. The street echoed with

Crosby's fire was returned. He backed up, snarling. He tried to take refuge in a doorway, but his battle was

hopeless. Police surrounded him. One cop had been shot to death, another badly wounded.

The remaining bluecoats took no chances. Crosby was riddled with bullets. His body crumpled to the

During all this deadly gunplay no one remembered about The Shadow. His blackrobed figure had vanished.

Voices shrilled a warning to the dazed policemen. Fingers pointed. Some pointed one way, some another.

THE news of the fearray attack on the jewelry shop, followed by the desperate flight and death of Arthur

Crosby, was flashed swiftly to police headquarters. It brought Inspector Joe Cardona and a squad of

Cops pushed back a huge crowd from the doorway of the Madison Avenue jewelry shop. Inside the shop,

Cardona's face was puzzled. He had made some startling discoveries when he had examined the smashed

Cardona began to talk to the dazed clerks and customers in the shop. Among the customers was the dapper

"Do you think Crosby was the masked man with the leaden box?" Cranston murmured.

"I don't see how he could be," Cardona answered. "And yet everything points to his guilt. He was seen

running from the shop. He tried to flee. But that damned fearray box was not in his car!"

"What about The Shadow?" Cranston asked quietly. "I understand it was The Shadow who halted Crosby's

"That's another thing I can't figure. The Shadow is no crook. He's helped me too many times in the past for

me to believe that. Crosby must be a criminal. But why in Heaven's name did he steal those silly rings?"

Fifteen rings had been found in Crosby's car. They had evidently been stolen from the tray at which the

masked man had paused, because the tray was now empty. But they had no real value. They were cheap

novelty rings, worth less than a dollar apiece. Yet Crosby had gambled his life to steal them. Why?

An even more amazing fact made Cardona's head ache. The bulging brief case which witnesses had seen

Crosby bring into the shop with him had also been found intact in his car. Cardona had eagerly opened it,

"That isn't the only thing," Cardona grunted. "Every time that fearray box appears, Daniel French seems to

get in trouble! I don't know what this attempted jewel raid has to do with it but there's a warrant out for

Cardona explained. Bokin was a small stockholder in an insurance company headed by French. He accused

French of fraud. His charge seemed so flimsy to Commissioner Weston that he had refused to take action.

The refusal had enraged Bokin. He went to one of his handpicked judges. A warrant was issued.

"There's a cop on his way to French's home right now to pick him up," Cardona said bitterly. "I think it's a

dirty frameup, but there was nothing I could do. What do you suppose Bokin is up to?"

Lamont Cranston shrugged. He reminded Cardona that he wasn't an expert on criminal matters. Quietly he

"That's still another queer coincidence. The shop is owned by Gaylord, the vice president of the Coastal

Bank, where the first fearray attack took place. Gaylord runs this jewelry shop on the side. Isn't that a funny

Lamont Cranston didn't reply. His mind was busy digesting the news Cardona had given him. He was still

"French is under arrest," he said. "He was picked up at his home on a bench warrant. How much bail do you

It was a staggering amount. Evidently Bokin and his handpicked judge were determined to keep French in

THE SHADOW had heard all he wanted to know. He yawned and made an excuse to leave. That sudden

move by Bokin against French was disturbing. But it was about the problem of Arthur Crosby that The

The paperstuffed brief case made a lot more sense to The Shadow than it did to the puzzled Cardona. Why

should a man stuff a brief case with worthless paper? Obviously because he had expected to substitute

something more valuable in the bag on the way out. Crosby had not wanted to draw attention to himself by

The Shadow had plenty to think about. He decided that a call at police headquarters would not be amiss.

"MY arrest is nothing but a frameup," Daniel French said. "It's an absolute perversion of justice."

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Mr. French," Commissioner Weston said. "But our hands are tied. There's

The insurance executive looked pale and angry. He had been brought under police guard from his jail to the

office of the commissioner. Cardona was there, too. So was Lamont Cranston. He was present as a friend and

On the desk of Commissioner Weston lay a copy of the warrant under which French had been arrested. There

was also a copy of the formal complaint which Big Bill Bokin had signed. It was an extremely vague charge

on which to deprive a man of his liberty under an unusually high bail. French was charged with "corruption"

The high bail had been set as a result of Bokin's affidavit. Bokin had sworn that he had reason to believe

French was about to leave the State in an attempt to escape the jurisdiction of the court.

The judge who had fixed the bail was a henchman of Bokin's political machine. He was on the bench now

only because Bokin had put him there. In the face of this situation, the police were powerless.

Lamont Cranston listened quietly as these facts were brought out. He waited until there was silence. Then he

"I think we're wasting time," he said. "There's a definite criminal reason behind this framedup arrest of Mr.

French. It's a reason that's directly connected with the first fearray attack on the Coastal Bank. It explains

why Hilbert raided French's safedeposit box in the bank vault and paid no attention to anything else."

"Don't you think it's high time you told the truth about your lock box in the interests of justice and the law?"

"Do you know the truth about that bank raid, Cranston?" Commissioner Weston demanded.

"Because I'm not at liberty to speak. Mr. French disclosed certain facts to me in confidence. He has not seen

fit to release me from that confidence. Therefore, he is the only one who can tell you the truth about that

"You lied to me!" Cardona accused. "You told me that nothing of value had been stolen. You swore you had

FRENCH repeated his story. He told of accidentally coming into conflict with the machine politician and the

criminal lawyer by reason of an investigation he had made in the normal course of his insurance business. He

Afraid to go to the police, French had continued his private investigation. He had gotten hold of certain

damaging pieces of evidence criminal documents that would send both Crosby and Bokin to prison for long

terms. He had placed this evidence in his box at the Coastal Bank. He had notified his two powerful enemies

Then the robbery at the bank took place. With the aid of his sinister fearray machine, Hilbert had stolen

"Criminal leadership of the New York underworld," French said faintly. "They were the power behind

Morello's policyracket mob. Crosby provided the legal protection. Bokin attended to the political end. Their

support gave Morello's mob complete immunity from the law. The profits ran into millions. It was split three

"Now I know why I've been hearing stoolpigeon rumors about Slasher Doyle! The underworld is buzzing

with whispers about him. The talk is that Slasher is being groomed for gang leadership by a big shot. Slasher

is due to take Morello's place. And his backer in crime can't be anyone else but Big Bill Bokin!"

"But why should Bokin frame up a charge to put me in jail?" French asked wonderingly.

"He's probably ready to pull some important crime. He wants you out of the way. It's also a plain tip to you of

his power. He's letting you know that there are still worse things he can do if you force him to."

"There's only one way to checkmate Bokin under these circumstances," Lamont Cranston said quietly. "That's

"No!" The insurance executive gasped quickly. "I'm safe while I'm in police custody. I don't want to be

"It's necessary, I'm afraid. With you freed, Bokin will be forced out into the open. He'll have to make some

Commissioner Weston agreed. So did Joe Cardona. They promised French every protection from the police.

They pointed out that it was his duty as a publicspirited citizen to help end the menace of protected crime.

In the end, French agreed. But he looked like a man who had just been sentenced to death.

Lamont Cranston telephoned the office of the district attorney. He announced his willingness to put up every

The district attorney was sympathetic. Like the police commissioner and Inspector Cardona, he didn't believe

in French's guilt. But he was extremely guarded in his comments about the judge who had set the unusually

"I'll get in touch with the judge," he said over the wire, "and call you back. The judge will have to set the time

The grimfaced men in Commissioner Weston's office waited. Presently the telephone rang. Cranston picked

But it wasn't the district attorney. It was a voice as harsh as a buzz saw. It was impossible to identify that

metallic snarl on the wire. There was menace in every syllable of the swiftly spoken warning.

"Listen, Cranston! Keep your nose out of something that doesn't concern you! Here's a smart tip. If you're

There was a click. The line went dead. The unknown crook on the other end of the wire had hung up.

CRANSTON'S eyes gleamed. He repeated the challenging message to Commissioner Weston. In an instant,

Weston sprang to another phone. Orders crackled to a subordinate. An immediate tracer was put on the call.

It didn't do a bit of good. The call had been made on a dial telephone. The swift attempt to trace it ended in

"You see?" Daniel French groaned. "The minute the district attorney telephoned the judge that Mr. Cranston

was ready to provide bail, the judge got in touch with Bokin. The threat followed. It's proof that the judge set

that high bail purposely. Bokin doesn't want me free. He's tied in with the killers."

Lamont Cranston spoke soothingly to the terrified man. His determination to provide the bail was only

Before he could utter a word, the telephone rang again. This time Cardona answered it. Before he had listened

for more than a few seconds, Cardona uttered an enraged cry that made everyone else in the commissioner's

He waved away Commissioner Weston, who crowded close. Cardona's eyes were bleak. Rage was in them,

and wonder, too. He didn't say another word into the mouthpiece. He was listening with a hard, vengeful

concentration. When he hung up, Cardona almost broke the instrument with his violence.

"The fear ray it's been used again! By a disguised criminal. He just made a stickup and got away."

"I'm not sure yet. Mostly cash, I think. The crook with the lead box was disguised, but from the description of

Lamont Cranston's eyes gleamed, but his face remained impassive. He said nothing. Commissioner Weston

"Quick!" Weston ordered. "Rush to the record room; bring me some photos of Slasher Doyle."

In a few moments the photographs arrived. Weston shoved them in his pocket. Inspector Cardona and

Lamont Cranston were already on their feet. The terrified Daniel French was turned over to the guards who

had brought him from his cell. They were given strict orders to redouble their watch over him.

Cranston followed Weston and Cardona downstairs. At the curb was the swift, chauffeurdriven car of the

It was a thrilling ride. Traffic lights meant nothing. The car's siren sent traffic ducking prudently out of the

way. In a miraculously short time the official automobile of the police commissioner braked to a screaming

The three men shoved through an enormous crowd outside the bank door. Their progress was aided by the

muscular shoulders of half a dozen policemen. They found the bank in a state of mad confusion. It was

almost a duplicate of the scene after Hilbert had made his first raid on the lock box of Daniel French.

But this raid had been different. No attempt had been made to get to the vault downstairs. The criminal in the

rubber mask had merely paralyzed everyone with terror under the reflected brilliance of his eerie green ray

then he had scooped up all the cash in sight at the teller's window and had fled.

He held out the police photographs of Slasher Doyle. The man to whom he showed the pictures stared at

"That's him! He had fixed up his face different. But I'm positive this was the guy!"

SLASHER had used a smart stunt to get into the bank. This time the leaden fearray box had not been

Slasher had arrived at the bank carrying a large, newspapersize camera. He announced himself as a staff

photographer from the Daily Classic. He said his paper was running a Sunday feature article about the strange

robbery of Daniel French's lock box several days earlier. The newspaper wanted some flashlight photos of the

Cardona fixed an unpleasantly grim gaze on the man who had identified Slasher from the police pictures. The

man was the uniformed attendant whose duty it was to stand guard at the bank's front door.

"You know the rules. Every bank in the city received a copy of them after that first robbery with the fearray

machine. You were under strict orders not to admit any depositor to the bank who carried a suitcase, a box, or

a parcel of any kind larger than six inches square. Why did you break that rule?"

He looked flustered and unhappy. It was obvious that he was eager to defend his conduct, and yet afraid to

"I stopped the guy the moment he came through the door. I told him he couldn't enter the bank with his

Gaylord, the vice president of the bank, had overheard the conversation between Cardona and the worried

doorman. He spoke with an embarrassed smile. At least, he tried to make it look embarrassed.

"The man insisted on coming in to take flashlight photographs. The guard referred the matter to me. I was

completely deceived. Naturally, the bank likes to enjoy good press relations. I didn't want to offend the editor

"So I gave orders that the man could set up his camera and take whatever pictures he wanted. Very foolishly,

"No one in the bank was more surprised than I when the fellow whipped a rubber mask over his bead. He

paralyzed everyone in the bank with that hellish green ray of his. There was nothing we could do."

"I don't see how Mr. Gaylord is at blame, inspector. I myself would have probably been fooled just as badly

"Very little, considering the opportunity he had. He merely darted to the teller's cage, shoved in his arm and

scooped up all the loose money in sight. I've had a careful check made. I'm pretty positive about the amount

stolen. The man took eleven hundred dollars. The loss is covered, of course by insurance."

LAMONT CRANSTON waited to hear Cardona mention the fact that Gaylord owned the jewelry shop where

the second fearray outrage had occurred. But Cardona didn't bring up the subject. He was very friendly in

It meant that Cardona suspected Gaylord of being deeper in this crime tangle than appeared on the surface.

Normally, these were good tactics. But The Shadow's mental processes were way ahead of Cardona. He

wanted to find out certain other things about Gaylord. He spoke about an entirely different subject.

He mentioned the arrest of Daniel French on the charge that had been brought up by Big Bill Bokin. He

Gaylord turned swiftly to face Lamont Cranston. For an instant the banker's glance tried to read the thoughts

"I agree with you. I heard the news about French's arrest this morning. It seems ridiculous. And yet I don't

Cranston smiled. He had made a perfect opening to say something he wanted Gaylord to hear.

"I'm going to provide bail to release French from jail," Cranston said. "It's excessively high, but I'm

convinced of French's innocence. I've made arrangements through the district attorney's office with the judge

who set the bail. There's going to be a hearing today. You'll be glad to know that Daniel French will be

released from custody in an hour or so. He'll return home as a free man, until his trial later on."

He veiled the light that flared briefly in his eyes. He shook hands with Cranston when the latter left the bank

a short time later. Turning politely to Cardona, Gaylord announced his willingness to cooperate with the

inspector in every possible way. He was glib in his answers to all the questions that Cardona shot at him.

But finally a change came over him. Gaylord sat down at his desk and wiped his forehead with a

handkerchief. His hand trembled visibly. He poured a glass of water from a container on his desk and gulped

"I don't feel well. This second raid on the bank has unnerved me. If you have no further questions to ask, I'd

Cardona saw no reason to withhold consent. He granted his permission. Gaylord put on his hat and coat and

It was barely ten minutes since Lamont Cranston had departed after letting Gaylord know that he was

But Cardona saw no connection between Cranston's remarks and Gaylord's sudden illness!

It wasn't much of a room to look at. The furniture was sparse and shabby. The walls hadn't been painted in

years. But it was an ideal spot for Slasher. The place was a thieves' hangout. Slasher had gone there

His grin widened as he glanced at the cracked mirror over his bureau. The mirror was bloodred!

On a table nearby stood the big camera which had helped him to get into the bank in his role of a newspaper

photographer. The camera was now an empty shell. The whole front of it had been removed.

The leaden box stood on the floor beneath the table. The fearray machine was tightly closed, but the

emanation from within that leaden box was strong enough, nevertheless, to turn the mirror red. Slasher didn't

He swung around toward his bed. Piles of money were neatly arranged there. Slasher had just finished sorting

It wasn't a fortune, but it wasn't hay, either. Besides, it would be only a starter. Slasher felt like a king. When

he went out after the bank job quieted down to rake in some more hay, no one could stop him. Not with the

He walked across to his telephone and dialed a number. It was a number that Slasher didn't have to get from a

"I got the box," Slasher boasted. "Right here! I can see it from where I'm standing. My mirror is as red as the

"Take it easy," the voice whispered. "You're talking too damned loud. How did you get it?"

"A cinch! I was hanging around that jewelry shop, like you ordered me to. I didn't stay out front on the

avenue. I played foxy and ducked around the corner to the side street. It worked like a charm!"

"While the cops were chasing Crosby, I followed the right guy. He was very smart. He dusted out of sight

without anyone noticing him. But I kept my eye on him. And he didn't know I was tailing him, either. That's

"I guess the guy was afraid he might turn a couple of sidewalk mirrors red and give himself away. Anyhow,

the first chance he got he ditched the box in what he thought was a safe spot. Then he took it on the lam. He

"But the joke's on him! When he comes back to get the box, he'll pick up a big hunk of nothing!"

Slasher thought that was a very humorous remark. But his mirth was cut short by a blast of nervous profanity

"And then you stuck up the Coastal Bank, like a damned numbskull!" the voice snarled. "Didn't you have

brains enough to lie low until I could see you and map out my scheme for big dough?"

"Bah! Chicken feed! Chewinggum money. I ought to break your neck for pulling that stupid bank raid."

"Listen, pal! Cut that kind of gab! I went after the dough at the bank because I'm broke; see, I like to eat. And

"You disobeyed orders. I don't like people who do that. Things are apt to happen to gorillas who think they're

"So I'm a gorilla! No brains, eh?" Slasher's rage mounted. "You're forgetting one little thing, pal. I got the

box! I don't need you no more. You need me! With that little greenray business, I can run the underworld

any time I like. The police ain't gonna stop me. Or you, either, if you get too many funny ideas in your nut

THERE was a sudden pause in the strange conversation over the wire. The voice at the other end seemed to

choke slightly. When Slasher heard it again there was no challenge in it. It had changed magically. There was

"You got me wrong, Slasher. I was a little bit upset by your raiding that bank without notifying me in

"And you're wrong about something else. You said you don't need me. You do! I've got a lead on something

that's a lot more important than eleven hundred dollars. How would you be interested in a million bucks? Not

"No. The money's in a place where we won't have to worry about the general public, or the police, either. It

was hidden there by a smart crook who didn't trust other smart crooks. All we have to do is to take it away

"Now you're talking sense. I'll be over to see you in a little while. We'll map out the thing carefully together.

Slasher told him. He also gave him a signal that was necessary for a stranger to get in.

"Don't forget the proper door knock, pal. A little mistake might get you a hot slug in the belly."

He hung up. The grin faded from Slasher's lips. They became thin, murderous. Slasher would be waiting for a

man who knew where a million dollars in cold cash was lying around! Slasher walked over to the bed where

he had stacked his bank loot. A furious gesture sent the stacked bills fluttering to the floor.

Slasher's ideas had changed. He was out for a million now. And he didn't intend to split it, either!

The guy who was coming to see him was cunning. Ordinarily it would be an impossible job to capture a bird

like that and force him to talk. But not with the lead box! As long as he had the fearray machine, Slasher

The doublecross idea seemed sweeter to Slasher the more he thought about it. The green ray would paralyze

his visitor before he knew what was going on. He'd fall an easy victim. After that it was just a matter of tying

the guy up, gagging him. A little expert torture would force him to spill his guts.

Slasher was a master at torture. He had gone a little too far when he had tackled Hilbert. But he wouldn't

With a lithe bound, Slasher darted to the closet in his room and took a rubber mask from the pocket of his

coat. He fitted the thing over his head. The snouted covering made him look like a weird twolegged animal

from another world. With his eyes, ears, mouth and throat protected, Slasher opened the lead box.

Greenish light bathed every nook and cranny of the room. But Slasher was not affected by the paralyzing

power of the unshielded ray. He moved closer to the locked door of his room. Standing there rigidly, he

Presently he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the topfloor hallway outside. There was a long silence

after that, as if the man outside might be listening with an ear pressed close to the panel.

Then there was a cautious series of knocks. Behind his mask, Slasher's lips twisted into a mirthless grin. The

signal was the one he had given to his boss over the telephone wire a short time earlier. The guy had

swallowed the bait. He had obligingly identified himself so that Slasher would make no mistake.

As he did so, his hand grabbed his victim. A quick heave yanked the visitor over the doorsill into the

greenhued room. The man fell headlong on his face. Slasher slammed the door. He whirled toward his prone

Nothing of the sort happened. The man rolled swiftly to his knees. In an instant he was on his feet. The

moment Slasher got a clear look at his foe's face he uttered a bubbling yell of astonishment under the rubber

The same ugly rubber covering that Slasher wore protected the visitor's skull and face. His snouted nosepiece

There was a gun in the man's hand. He swung the muzzle swiftly in line with Slasher's stomach.

BUT Slasher, although surprised, was not idle. All his crooked life he had depended for safety on his quick

With Slasher, selfdefense was automatic. In an instant he had jerked a knife from concealment. He threw it

The other man had recoiled merely to give his body free play. He saw Slasher draw the knife with that

incredibly fast motion. He leaped aside in the split second before Slasher's cupped palm had flung the

He fired three times, completely indifferent to the explosive sound the gun made. Each of those bullets found

its mark. Each hit in a vital spot. Slasher was dead before his toppling body struck the floor.

The masked man approached his fallen victim. There was rage in the thick words that bubbled from beneath

Deliberately he emptied the rest of his slugs into the dead body of Slasher. He could hear outside the room

the oncoming thud of racing feet. Ugly laughter showed that the thought of a fresh attack amused him.

The unlocked door flung open. A man was disclosed. He had a murderous face and a big gun. He was

evidently the owner of the thieves' rooming house where Slasher had holed up. But his toughness didn't help

him in the face of that horrible greenish illumination that streamed out the open doorway and bathed his face

The gun dropped from his grasp. He seemed to shrivel in the glow of that baleful light. He stood on the

doorsill like a man twisted horribly by some strange muscular disease. In his bulging eyes was mortal terror.

Quickly the masked man pulled him inside the room. He toppled to the floor, still in that rigid pose. He lay

Slasher's killer ignored the new victim. He picked up Slasher's cash that had fallen from the bed to the floor

and stuffed it into his pockets. On the way out of the room he took time to remove the rubber mask from

He also took the opened lead box and the fake camera. Greenish light bathed the staircase as the masked man

He left behind him half a dozen thuggish enemies, who had started to rush through their partly open doors to

attack him. All of them were armed, but none fired a shot. They stood frozen in the glow of the fear ray with

Even after the greenish glow had descended to the street floor of the building, not one of those killers on the

upper floors moved from their horrible stillness. The effect of the exposed ray took several minutes to wear

In the front hallway of the thieves' rooming house, the stranger closed the lead box. He shoved it inside

His face was unexpectedly mild. He looked like a gentle old man. He had sparse gray hair and a grizzled gray

He was the same "peddler" who had raided the uptown headquarters of the Morello gang. His was the hand

that had stabbed Morello to death after kidnaping him. Afterward he had dumped Morello's bleeding body

But his faint chuckle indicated that the police held no worries for him. He was confident that no one in the

street had heard the sound of gunfire from that topfloor room in the rear of a thieves' boarding house. A

TWO men in the street outside the rooming house were well aware that they were close to the deadly

presence of the fearray machine. They sat in a taxicab which stood at the curb, its engine running.

Moe Shrevnitz was at the taxi's wheel. The man in the rear seat was Cliff Marsland.

Marsland was an agent of The Shadow. He was The Shadow's most important contact with the underworld.

To Cliff had gone urgent orders to get on the trail of Slasher Doyle and find out where he was holed up.

Cliff Marsland had obeyed those orders efficiently. A glance here, a whisper there, had put him on the scent.

Cliff pieced hints and whispers together. The result had led him to the rooming house where Slasher was

It was easy for Cliff to do a job like this. Crooks thought he was one of them. Marsland had served time in

jail for earlier mistakes. But he had long since reformed and joined the forces of The Shadow.

Sitting on the rear seat of the taxi, Cliff held a small hand mirror. Cliff had been watching it patiently for a

long time. Now he saw a startling change come over the hue of the glass. It had turned a dark red!

Instantly Moe Shrevnitz put the taxicab into motion. He didn't drive fast. On the contrary, Moe acted as if his

cab was slowing up after having just arrived in the neighborhood. Fifty feet down the street he pulled in close

to the curb outside the entrance to another house. He leaned backward and flung open the taxi door. Marsland

The whole stunt was done just as the grayhaired man with the big black camera emerged from Slasher's

Cliff kept his back toward the grayhaired man. He shoved Moe a crumpled dollar bill and shouted curtly,

"Keep the change!" He hurried into the entry of the house and slammed the vestibule door.

The grayhaired man was completely fooled. He fell for the fake buildup exactly as Moe and Cliff had

hoped he would. He thought that Cliff had just arrived in the cab. Instead of walking away and taking a

dangerous chance, fate was giving him an opportunity to ride away in comfort before the alarm was given

He hurried to the taxi, lugging his heavy black camera. Moe helped him in. The cab drove away.

Cliff Marsland saw all this from his post inside the dark house vestibule. Cliff hadn't picked that particular

Marsland let himself in with a key the minute he was certain that Moe had picked up the grayhaired man.

The key was rightfully his. Marsland had rented a room in this house a halfhour earlier, as soon as he had

Cliff darted to the box and dropped in a nickel. The click of the closing front door had brought the landlady

into view from a side room. Recognizing her new roomer, she nodded and withdrew. Marsland, who had

Marsland reported swiftly in a low tone. He mentioned a street a half mile to the north. He spoke about the

It seemed like sketchy information. But there was no need to add more to that report. A wellthoughtout

He knew that the grayhaired fare who sat so quietly in the rear seat of his cab was a ruthless murderer. The

camera on the old man's lap contained the most deadly criminal weapon ever devised. But Moe kept his voice

"Triboro Bridge. I want to go to Queens. I've got to deliver this camera to a pilot at La Guardia Field."

Moe had found out what he wanted. His next task was to get rid of his fare as soon as possible. Moe knew

exactly how to pull the trick. But he had to be careful not to put his unsuspecting passenger on guard.

He cut down on his speed as he headed north. His hand played with the spark lever, advancing and retarding

it. The taxi's engine alternately raced and dawdled with a banging uproar. Moe Shrevnitz cursed.

But it wasn't. The trouble seemed to continue. Moe turned a corner and headed east. It was a logical turn to

make on the route to the Triboro Bridge. But this particular side street which Moe elected was doubly a

It was the same street Cliff Marsland had mentioned in his hasty report to Burbank. Midway down this street

was a huge vacant lot. A number of small brownstone houses had been demolished to make way for the

It was here that Moe's ailing taxicab finally halted. He hopped out, hurried around to the front of the cab and

lifted the hood. Over his shoulder he yelled a reassuring word to his passenger.

He kept his hands screened from the inquisitive eyes of the grayhaired man as he pretended to tinker with an

ailing engine. There was not a thing wrong with that engine. But a moment later there was.

Moe Shrevnitz's deft fingers unscrewed a nut. He removed a small but vital part of the engine. The gadget

disappeared into his pocket as Moe pretended to wipe his hands on a chunk of cotton waste.

But when he got back behind his wheel, the engine didn't stir. The starter whirled and throbbed without a sign

"She's gone dead on me. Looks like you're gonna have to take another cab, mister."

His fare growled an oath. Picking up his camera, he scrambled out of the stalled taxi. He didn't even pay Moe

But Moe didn't mind that. He grinned as he watched the grayhaired man hurry toward the corner and hail a

passing cab. Moe gave his horn button three quick toots. Then he darted to the front of his cab. In a moment

Sliding quickly back behind the wheel, Moe waited for the blackcloaked figure of The Shadow to vault over

It was an ideal spot for such a vitally important pickup. The street was dark. The fence threw a long patch of

blackness along the sidewalk. Moe's beady eyes watched the fence. But, to his dismay, nothing happened.

He was beginning to wonder if Cliff Marsland had failed to perform his part of the task efficiently when his

THE SHADOW was already inside the taxicab. He had entered unseen while Moe was repairing the trifling

damage to the engine. Except for the pale blur of part of his face, The Shadow merged with the blackness of

His hat brim shaded his forehead. The cloak he wore was drawn upward across his chin. All that was visible

Moe repeated the facts he had learned. The Shadow became aware that the man with the fearray machine

was heading for La Guardia Airport. The news didn't seem to surprise him. Sibilant laughter issued briefly.

A stern order put the taxicab into quick motion. Moe headed uptown toward the 125th Street approach of the

Triboro Bridge. He knew that speed was essential. But he didn't break any traffic laws. Whenever a red light

was about to appear in front, Moe swung east and took another avenue. By these weaving tactics he managed

He halted at the toll booth apprehensively. He was afraid that the uniformed attendant might notice his

blackgarbed passenger. Moe had a quarter all ready. He leaned out swiftly in order to hand it over and get

He was surprised to find that The Shadow himself was leaning calmly out to pay the toll. Moe gasped as he

saw the passenger who now occupied the rear seat of the taxi. But Moe's astonishment was nothing compared

The cop took one look at the smiling man who paid the toll. His hand lifted quickly to his cap in a respectful

"Good evening, Mr. Allard. I didn't know you were in New York. Going out to the airport?"

Moe obeyed still dazed by the swift transition of his passenger from The Shadow to Kent Allard. Ahead of

Moe's cab, the motorcycle cop led the way at a fast clip. The blare of his police siren pushed all other traffic

There was no mystery about this prompt police courtesy to Kent Allard, for Allard was the foremost aviation

But there was one fact about Kent Allard that the eager motorcycle cop was unaware of. Kent Allard was The

MORE courtesy was extended to Kent Allard when he arrived at La Guardia Field. He repeated his story that

he had just arrived from Washington. He was anxious to take off at once in a chartered plane for Boston.

It took a little time to find the fast ship he needed for his purpose. The field superintendent was apologetic.

There had been an unusual demand for chartered ships tonight, he declared. Three gentlemen had made

"No. There's a Mr. Mortimer, a gentleman named Dawkins, and Harold Pender, whom, of course, you know."

Allard nodded. Pender was a rich industrialist who transacted much of his business by making swift air

journeys between the principal cities. But Mortimer and Dawkins were unknown to The Shadow. One of

The Shadow showed no further interest in the subject. When his plane was wheeled onto the field, he climbed

into it. It was a swift little oneseater job, ideal for an ace airman like Allard.

He sent it climbing into the black sky, heading in the direction of Boston. But as soon as he had taken the

ship beyond the glare of the field's light, he began to nose higher. When he circled back toward the airport he

Invisible in the windy blackness, he watched, through binoculars, the arrival and departure of planes from the

Presently laughter hissed briefly from The Shadow's lips. A small ship was winging upward from the smooth

expanse of the airport. It was not a transport plane starting out on a scheduled flight. This one looked like a

It leveled off at five thousand feet and streaked away through the darkness. The Shadow sped after it. He had

to open up his throttle to do so. He used his altitude to help him get closer to that fleeing plane.

The Shadow dived. Leveling off at five thousand feet, he crowded on speed. He began to creep closer toward

In another moment his hunch that the plane ahead contained a criminal was justified. Strapped to The

Shadow's left wrist was a tiny mirror. The mirror was slowly changing to bloodred!

The Shadow increased his speed. He intended to force that ship ahead of him to the ground. But he knew that

he faced a dreadful risk. The pair in the machine ahead were aware of pursuit. The pilot had increased his

speed. Both ships raced through the black sky at a prodigious rate. But The Shadow was gaining.

The criminal's last resource was his green fear ray. Undoubtedly he and his pilot were wearing the rubber

protective masks that screened the ray's terror potentialities. The Shadow had no such protection.

He tightened his body in anticipation. Every atom of The Shadow's will went into the effort of keeping his

But the power of the unleashed ray hit him like the blow of a giant fist! It streamed backward from the plane

Terror possessed him. Blind terror such as he had never known in his entire life! He couldn't think. He could

hardly breathe. His body froze at the controls as he fought desperately to move his locked muscles.

He managed to tilt the nose of his plane before he became a rigid figure of stone. His ship was slightly higher

than the one ahead of him. The Shadow's plane shrieked downward toward the plane below.

The criminal's hired pilot realized his danger. He tried to avert the collision and almost succeeded, but not

quite. The Shadow s ship ripped a section of the tail loose as the two planes seemed to touch briefly in the

Paralyzed by the effects of the ray, he was unable to maneuver his ship. His wing had locked briefly with the

tail of the other machine. With eyes bulging and heart pounding with hypnotic terror, The Shadow saw his

The other ship was falling, too. But it was not so badly damaged. It fluttered earthward like a wounded bird.

The Shadow had prepared for disaster in the face of that hellish green ray. He had left the door of his tiny

He was wearing a parachute pack. Feebly his clenched fingers reached for the release ring. It brought sweat

to his face before he was able to give a feeble tug at the ring. But his will power was magnificent. The chute

opened. The Shadow didn't realize it until he felt a terrific jerk at his armpits and legs.

He drifted downward through the darkness under a white, swaying mushroom. It was not a long fall. The

Shadow had barely opened his chute in time. The ground rushed up to meet him. It was a dark, plowed field.

No longer was the fear ray affecting his senses. The passenger in the rapidly descending plane ahead had

The Shadow's impact with the ground was a hard one. Even with a chute drop from normal height the impact

But he managed to avoid broken limbs by the cunning learned from years of aerial skill. He lay still for a few

minutes, the breath driven from his lungs. Then he recovered and lurched to his feet.

The fugitive plane had made a good landing in spite of its damaged tail. It had dropped about half a mile from

It was tough going. A deep and icycold brook intervened. The Shadow plunged in and swam fiercely across.

The plane had landed only a few yards from the pale ribbon of a motor highway. A motorist had seen the

descent. His headlights came to a halt. He got out and ran to the aid of what he supposed was a lawabiding

Already the motorist was at the side of the grounded ship. He was leaning over a man who had crumpled to

Suddenly there was a distant roar of gunfire. The motorist fell with a bullet in his body. A crouched figure

A figure fled from the plane toward the parked automobile. The Shadow tried to close the gap. But it was an

unequal race. Long before The Shadow was in gun range, the man with the leaden box had reached the

Its headlights raced away in the direction of New York. The faint red glow of its tail light vanished.

A double killer! The Shadow realized it when he turned his attention to the bodies lying alongside the

abandoned plane. One was the motorist whose car had been stolen. The other was the hired pilot of the plane.

The pilot was still wearing the snouted rubber mask which he had donned to counteract the paralyzing force

of the green terror ray. But there was no sign of the leaden box which contained the ray. That had vanished in

Other cars were stopping. Men leaped over the roadside fence and rushed toward the disabled plane in the

field. The Shadow couldn't afford to be found alongside two murdered victims. Swiftly he ripped the

protective mask from the head of the dead pilot. Then he faded like a black wraith in the darkness.

Apparently his aerial pursuit of an unknown supercriminal had brought only disaster.

But the sibilant laughter of The Shadow under the black sky was proof that things were not as desperate as

they seemed. He had made an important find. The snouted rubber mask which the crooked pilot had worn

was now in his possession. A way was now open to fight a ruthless killer on something like even terms.

It was not too difficult a problem for The Shadow's genius. He had done certain preliminary work before he

had vaulted over the wooden fence of a vacant lot in Manhattan to enter the taxicab of Moe Shrevnitz.

The inability of a human being to exist in two places at once provided the only true answer to an amazing

The Shadow knew the true identity of the unknown criminal who had escaped with the leaden box!

He was ready to make his final move. That move would take The Shadow to the jewelry shop owned and

THE jewelry shop on Madison Avenue was wrapped in silence. The hour was long after midnight. Curtains

had been drawn across the plate glass of the show window. The sidewalk outside was so quiet that the

footfalls of a policeman sounded loudly as he paused to try the handle of the locked door.

His inspection satisfied him that all was well within. The sound of his footsteps faded down the deserted

The Shadow didn't move. He had been inside the jewelry shop for some time. It had not been a difficult task

for him to force an entry from the rear. Unusual precautions had been taken by someone else to make sure

Every burglary device that protected the jewelry shop owned by Gaylord had been rendered harmless.

The Shadow expected more than one other visitor tonight. He was confident that at least two men would

From the spot where he waited in the darkness, a small section of a glasstopped counter was visible. It was

near the rear of the store. The Shadow had deliberately selected his position so that he would be able to watch

The rings were of no particular value. There were fifteen of them, arranged in three rows of five each. The

top row were rubies. The middle row were emeralds. The bottom row were sapphires. The gems were all

They were the loot that had been recovered from the automobile of Arthur Crosby, after the flight of the

Not one of those fifteen rings were more than a dollar apiece. It was strange they should be on display in a

shop that specialized in costly gems. They had been returned to their usual place, on the counter near the rear

The Shadow's careful examination of these cheap rings had told him nothing. Whatever their real purpose

Presently he heard the faint sound for which his keen ears had been waiting. The rear door of the shop was

A slowly moving patch of blackness in the shop was the only sign of the intruder's presence. He headed

cautiously toward a small door on the left of the shop. It was a door that led to a room which The Shadow had

This was the reception room where patrons sat when they wished to examine gems in privacy. It had yielded

Aware that more than one man intended to invade this darkened shop tonight, The Shadow did not permit his

He rose like a catapult from the crouched position where he had been hiding. A yell of startled rage rose to

That yell was never uttered. Black gloved hands fastened around the man's throat. The Shadow began to

It was not an easy struggle. The unknown man had the fury of a wild beast. He fought viciously, his hand

clutching at his pocket in an attempt to draw a weapon. The two antagonists staggered up and down the dark

A single misstep would send one of those glass cases toppling to the floor in a crash of jangling glass. But

The Shadow avoided that danger, even in the heat of his struggle with a furious enemy. He tripped his foe

The maneuver happened so quickly that the unseen thug crashed on his back before he could withdraw his

clutching hand from his gun pocket. His hand and arm were bent tightly under his body.

The Shadow's weight kept him that way. He continued to squeeze his foe's throat.

Soon the pressure of muscular fingers against the man's windpipe brought the inevitable result which The

The man relaxed in a limp huddle. He seemed dead. But The Shadow was no killer. A quick test of pulse and

heartbeat showed that his enemy was merely unconscious. The Shadow had put him mercifully out of action.

THE SHADOW took good care to make sure his foe would remain out of action. Stout cords from beneath

the black cloak of The Shadow were looped tightly about wrists and ankles. A gag was shoved into the

Then The Shadow leaned closer toward the stilled face. He didn't press the button of his tiny flashlight

because he didn't want to betray himself to a second arrival who might be lurking outside the rear of the

But no light was needed to determine the prisoner's identity. The sensitive fingers of The Shadow touched

broad, fleshy cheeks, thick lips, a bull neck. The sense of touch told him what his eyes were unable to

The man was Big Bill Bokin, the most powerful and crooked politician in New York.

The Shadow hid Bokin in a spot where he would not be easily found. Through the darkness, The Shadow

glided back to his hiding place near the counter where a tray of cheap rings were on display.

This time The Shadow changed his tactics. He made no effort to attack his foe. Shrouded in darkness, he

The man moved silently toward the counter where the tray of rings were displayed. The darkness made it

impossible to see the man's fingers as he scooped up the rings. But the clink of the jewelry indicated that the

He headed for the closed door of the reception room at the rear of the shop. For an instant a ray of light

gleamed like a bright pencil. Then it vanished. The second burglar tiptoed into the reception room.

The Shadow knew who the man was. His reckless use of light had disclosed his identity to The Shadow.

Minute passed after minute. Nothing happened to indicate that a human being was in that adjoining room.

Then there was a slight click. It was followed instantly by another noise. A queer clatter sounded, as if small

The Shadow divined the truth. Gaylord had either dropped or thrown away all those fifteen rings he had been

It didn't make sense. But The Shadow knew that there was grim purpose behind those stealthy movements of

the vice president of the Coastal Bank. He crowded noiselessly across the threshold of the dark reception

He covered every inch of the floor, his hands feeling cautiously out in front of him. When he finally rose to

A quick spurt of light from the tiny lens of The Shadow's flashlight proved this. The reception room was

empty. But Gaylord had left a strange clue behind him to testify that he had actually entered the room.

On the floor, scattered aimlessly where they had fallen and rolled apart, were fifteen cheap rings.

The Shadow picked them up. It was a tough problem to solve, even for The Shadow. Where had Gaylord

gone? How had his action of tossing the rings to the floor aided him in that swift vanishing act?

Logic assisted The Shadow in his answer. Most of the rings had fallen in one spot. Only a few that had

bounced and rolled away were far from the room's wall. The wall was paneled. Obviously the fifteen rings

must be a combined key of some sort to move a panel in that reception room wall.

THE rings themselves interested The Shadow. There were three different types of imitation stones. Five

The Shadow brought the ray of his torch close to the panel below which most of the rings had fallen to floor.

It was difficult to see any difference between this panel and the ones adjoining.

Every panel in the wall was intricately decorated with carvings and tiny wooden studs. The studs interested

The Shadow more than the carvings. He tested one and discovered that a ring fitted very easily over it. Then

his gaze studied more closely the pegs on the panel, which he suspected masked the entrance to a secret

He noticed a series of tiny dots. They were colored. Their colors made a significant series. They marked

fifteen of the tiny wooden pegs that decorated the panel in three rows of five colors each.

The Shadow hung his fifteen rings over the appropriate colors. When the last ring hung in place he waited

expectantly. He didn't have long to wait. Almost instantly the panel swung open on a hinged mechanism

The Shadow didn't move an inch. Watching quietly, he saw the hidden mechanism reverse itself. The panel

As it closed, an amazing thing happened. Each of those colored pegs on which The Shadow had hung a ring

There was no longer any indication of how the panel worked in case someone should enter the room during

the absence of Gaylord. Evidently the panel could be opened from the inside without further use of the rings.

He picked up the fallen rings and repeated his first maneuver. Again the panel swung wide. This time The

The ray of his torchshowed him that he was in a narrow wall passage that paralleled the reception room. The

passage ended in a circular hole. A steep ladder led downward. The Shadow counted eighteen rungs as he

descended. He knew he was well below the level of the cellar under the jewelry shop.

Another passage, at right angles to the upper one, led deeper into the bowels of the earth. Again a circular

hole was disclosed. Again a ladder led downward. But this time the ladder was shorter. There were no more

There was no sign of where Gaylord had gone. But a metal plate in the floor indicated his probable route. The

plate looked like a flat manhole cover. There was no lever nearby, no tool of any kind to indicate how

But laughter hissed from The Shadow's taut lips as he leaned closer. The manhole cover was studded with

tiny metal pegs similar to the pegs on the panel of the room in the jewelry shop above. There were colored

Before The Shadow could examine them further he stiffened. He had heard a startling sound from below. It

was muffled and barely audible. But to The Shadow's tense ears there could be no mistaking the source or the

THE sound galvanized The Shadow to quick action. Bending swiftly over the steel plate in the floor, he

began to manipulate those three rows of colored pegs. He found, after a quick try, that they pushed

When all fifteen had been pushed, a strange whirring sounded below the circular steel plate. It lifted

It was impossible to see clearly through that strange subterranean pool. The water was dark and murky. But a

ladder led downward from the circular opening. Gaylord had gone down there. How had he done it? And who

Grim laughter testified to The Shadow's complete understanding of this final question. He noticed that the

level of the water was beginning to drop. Unseen pumps were working. The flooded chamber beneath The

Shadow's feet was rapidly emptying itself into an exit pipe that undoubtedly connected with a trunk sewer.

The Shadow followed the descending level of the water down the ladder. It was pitchdark below. He was

His flash glowed. He was completely enclosed in metal walls that formed the sides of the tank. A

wiremeshed hole in the floor showed where the water had so swiftly drained away.

The man's face was twisted into an expression of stark terror. The eyes bulged. The legs and arms were

stiffened crookedly, like the limbs of a paralytic. This man had faced the fear ray before he had been killed.

His death was not the strangest part of the mystery. Only a few moments earlier, water had filled this

subterranean tank to capacity. The floor was still dripping wet. But no water had touched the corpse on the

The Shadow had barely time to identify the victim when a clanging sound above made his face whip upward.

The circular steel plate in the ceiling had dropped shut. The Shadow was a prisoner!

It foamed and roared under the pressure of a powerful pump. Its terrific onslaught knocked The Shadow from

his feet. He fell headlong and rolled over and over. It was like trying to dodge the battering stream from the

The Shadow had no chance to reach the ladder. Nor would it have been useful, even if he could have

maintained a footing under the roaring assault of that flooding water. The steel lid in the ceiling above was

closed and locked. To try to locate the opening mechanism from below would take too much time. The

In the meantime, he was floating swiftly toward the blank ceiling of the death chamber on the surface of the

flood that was swiftly filling the vault. As the torrent rose, so did The Shadow.

He made no effort to struggle, contenting himself with keeping afloat and regulating his breathing. He kept

calm, so as not to increase the beat of his heart, which in turn would lower his capacity for slow, deep

Only two feet remained now between The Shadow's bobbing head and the solid ceiling of the chamber

overhead. The air space rapidly diminished. In another moment the air pocket would be completely forced

The Shadow took a deep breath an instant before the water covered his mouth and nose. There was a roaring

THE SHADOW'S position was desperate. But he had a cool brain and welldisciplined muscles. He used

His body twisted upside down under water. The soles of his feet pressed hard against the ceiling of the

submerged room. A tremendous kick of both feet sent him diving downward. The powerful sweep of his arms

helped his progress. He dove straight toward the bottom of that murky flood of water.

When he reached it, he swam close to the floor with the skill of a pearl diver. His goal was the wiremeshed

outlet of the exit pipe. It seemed a queer object for a doomed man to search for under water, with eyes

bulging and lips tightly compressed. But to The Shadow, that screened opening was more valuable than

He had observed that mechanism in the few precious seconds that had intervened between his discovery of

Gaylord's body and the thundering inrush of water. The valve operated electrically from an inner room

beyond the waterfilled chamber. But its principle was simple. A lever controlled a pinion. The pinion, in

The Shadow's body hovered over the wiremeshed pipe in the submerged floor. He anchored himself by one

hand to prevent his distended lungs from popping him upward to the ceiling where no more air was

obtainable. But it was not an easy struggle as The Shadow used his free hand to reach the pinion under the

His eyes bulged. The roaring in his ears was like thunder. His body ached with the agonized effort to keep

Suddenly The Shadow's questing fingers found the tiny piece of metal they were seeking. He touched the

pinion, released it from the cog. Muscular power took the place of an electrical impulse from the hidden

The Shadow's desperate jerk had started the compressedair mechanism working. The valve was open! The

louder throb was the sound of a pump aiding the swift flow of tons of water down that exit pipe.

The suction was terrific. It brought a new peril to The Shadow. Unless he could tear himself loose, he would

be glued there like a bug under water, drowned long before the descending level of the water in the vault

The Shadow, however, had been well aware of this added peril. He wiggled backward the moment he heard

It was like swimming through glue to escape the terrific force of the suction. But The Shadow fought clear.

With eyes blinded and lungs aching with agony, he rose arrowlike to the surface.

His head struck the ceiling of the submerged room. But already the flood pouring through the exit pipe below

was beginning to lower the level of the water. An inch or two of air existed between the surface and the steel

Twisting his head sideways, The Shadow was able to gulp fresh air into his almost bursting lungs.

More air was taking the place of the water. It roared up from below in churning bubbles. There was a

twelveinch space now between the surface and the ceiling. The space increased rapidly.

Floating like a cork, The Shadow allowed his body to sink with the descending level. Presently his feet

touched the floor. The last gurgling torrent of that manmade flood vanished down the exit pipe.

He drew no weapon. His purpose was trickery. The Shadow had discovered many things since the first

criminal raid had been made at the Coastal Bank. But there were one or two facts concerning which The

To complete his case, The Shadow was deliberately faking helplessness. A moment later a section of the rear

wall of the water chamber slid aside. An opening was revealed. Through that opening came a masked man.

The mask was familiar to The Shadow. It covered the man's skull and protected his face. A snoutlike

In one hand he held a gun. In the other was the leaden box that imprisoned the green terror ray.

The Shadow cried out hoarsely. Both arms lifted in token of surrender. The armed man in the mask laughed.

With a sudden swoop he placed his leaden box on the floor and dropped the sides.

Greenish brilliance filled the chamber. The Shadow writhed as the ray struck his face. His hands and arms

It was a familiar scene to the masked criminal. But it was a picture that he failed to understand. The terror of

The Shadow was faked. His genius had discovered a way to shield himself from the hellish power of that

Chuckling under his rubber mask, the criminal closed the leaden box. He was certain he had The Shadow in

his power. He waited until the effects of the ray began to lessen. Then he spoke, his gun aimed at his

"You're the last obstacle in my way," the masked man sneered. "I am now ready to make myself the supreme

dictator of the underworld. I've already seized a million dollars in cash. Before I'm through I'll own a hundred

million! But to keep my real identity a secret, it is necessary for you to die!"

The Shadow made no move to defend himself. But his voice was crystal clear as he said:

THE effect was startling. The masked man recoiled. But he recovered swiftly from dismay. Jeering laughter

The Shadow's accusation was true. The man was Daniel French, ostensible victim of a criminal conspiracy

The Shadow talked, very calmly. He disclosed his knowledge of the fact that the first robbery at the Coastal

Bank had been a faked one. There had been nothing at all in that safedeposit box rented by French. His tale

"Correct," French sneered. "But that's only a small detail of the cleverest criminal campaign ever attempted in

The Shadow knew a lot more than French realized. But he pretended to be completely in the dark.

French began to talk. It was an amazing story of the greed of four vicious men. Four men who had masked

French was one. A second was Crosby, the lawyer. A third was Big Bill Bokin, the politician. A fourth was

Gaylord, the banker. Morello was the crime syndicate's gunman. He headed a mob of paid killers.

The syndicate's racket was insurance. Insurance of crime! French had organized the racket under cover of his

own legitimate business. Whenever crooks attempted a big haul, French insured them against arrest or loss of

A huge premium for this service was charged, but crooks found it worth while. Crosby defended them in

court. Bokin took care of the fixing of judges and juries. Gaylord, the banker, had charge of the cash reserve.

But not at the Coastal Bank. Gaylord had constructed a secret treasure vault underneath his jewelry shop.

Such was the situation when Morello pulled out of the insurance combination. He saw a chance to make more

money than the greedy syndicate would pay him. So he knocked off the leader of the policy racket and took

over. He told French he was through with him. French saw himself facing ruin. With Morello's gang no

longer preventing the highjacking of criminal clients, the insurance combine met heavy losses. They were

losses which French believed were being deliberately caused by Morello with the aid of his, French's,

treacherous partners in an effort to break French and force him out of the syndicate.

The Shadow uttered grim, sibilant laughter. To French's amazement, he began to talk himself. He told the

Hilbert had come to French with his amazing invention. He wanted financial backing to develop the ray as a

war invention. French persuaded Hilbert to turn the ray to crime. The raid on the Coastal Bank was merely a

tryout. French's safedeposit box was empty. His story about the missing papers was a lie to make him seem

But French ran into trouble. Hilbert was kidnaped by Slasher Doyle soon after he had hidden the precious

lead box in French's car. French was afraid Hilbert would squeal. He had to move quickly against both

Bokin, Gaylord and Crosby suspected the truth. They banded together for selfprotection. Learning that

Slasher had Hilbert in custody, Bokin took the ambitious mobster into the combine. Bokin's feeble

explanation for the disappearance of all the mirrors from his home was the truth! French had stolen those

mirrors in another effort to make Bokin seem to be the guilty owner of the fearray box.

French killed Hilbert to shut his mouth on the same night that Bokin and Slasher had gone to New Jersey to

The raid on the jewelry shop was another of French's cunning moves. Gaylord alone knew where the

insurance syndicate's million dollars in cash reserve was kept. None of the others knew the secret entrance to

So French sent a fake message from Gaylord to the others, promising that the money was about to be divided

up. He intended to break in with his fear ray and steal the entire million after Gaylord opened the entrance to

But French failed. Gaylord, suspecting a trick, had failed to open the panel. All that happened to help French

French's arrest on a trumpedup charge of Bokin's was designed to get him out of the way while the others

grabbed the syndicate's cash. But it gave French a final marvelous alibi! For Slasher had gotten hold of the

French was in jail when Slasher held up the Coastal Bank for a second time. It made him seem completely

As soon as he was released on bail, French located Slasher and murdered him. The cards were now all in his

hands. He had the box, and he had managed to find out the secret of the fifteen rings.

The intervention of The Shadow was the only factor which French hadn't counted on!

Suddenly he made a lightning move with the hand that held the rubber mask. It snapped over his head and

face. Bending, he opened the lead box. Greenish light glared into the eyes of The Shadow.

But The Shadow's forward rush was not halted by the power of that paralyzing ray. He struck the amazed

criminal like a thunderbolt. His hand wrenched French's gun loose before it could spit flame. A terrible battle

It was a battle quickly won by The Shadow. He knew he was fighting a dangerous criminal, one with a keen

and resourceful brain. The Shadow gave him no chance to use either brain or muscle.

In less than two minutes, Daniel French lay groaning on the floor, unable to move. He sensed doom in the

The Shadow closed the lead box. As soon as the aftereffect of the ray had passed, The Shadow divested

From his eyes he removed two thin wafers of glass contact lenses made of the same tinted glass in the mask

which French had worn. Out of his ears came similar disks, that had rested against The Shadow's eardrums.

The Shadow had guarded his senses well against the terrible power of the ray. The mask he had seized from

the dead body of the hired aviator whom French had shot had yielded up the nature of its secret in the

laboratory at The Shadow's sanctum. A master intelligence had thwarted the will of a master criminal.

Daniel French was trapped and helpless. But his pale lips managed to utter a jeering challenge. He asserted

that The Shadow would be unable to prove his guilt. The police would never believe so bizarre a story.

The Shadow's answer was overwhelming. From the jewelry shop above the vault he carried down the

boundandgagged body of Big Bill Bokin. He laid the politician alongside the bound and helpless figure of

Bokin's eyes glared into the terrified countenance of his treacherous expartner. Revenge and selfinterest

made it clear what Bokin should do as soon as the police arrived. To save his own skin and lighten his

Daniel French would go to the chair for the murders of Morello and Slasher, of Hilbert and Gaylord. The

The Shadow darted through the opening in the wall of the water chamber to the treasure vault where French

had penetrated earlier. Stacked on shelves was a king's ransom. Bank notes, neatly arranged in numbered

piles. Money that had been cached there in order to make good the losses of crooks who had availed

The Shadow didn't touch it. That was a matter for the police. All The Shadow wanted was the leaden box that

imprisoned the deadly green ray which had been accidentally invented by the now dead Hilbert.

A complete written statement was left by The Shadow. When Commissioner Weston and a grim cordon of

police entered the Madison Avenue jewelry shop later, they descended through the open panel in the wall.

Completed was The Shadow's work. Shrouded by darkness, he was returning swiftly to his sanctum. There

The fear ray would be turned over to the army of the United States. Instead of crime, it would be put to the

use of national defense. With such a weapon, no nation on earth would ever dare attack America.

The Shadow's sibilant laughter faded. It would not be heard again until fresh crime brought him back from