HILLS OF DEATH .............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. JERSEY MURDER ...........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. CLUES IN THE NIGHT ..................................................................................................6

CHAPTER III. BROKEN STRATEGY ..................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. THE LAW'S SEARCH................................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. THE HIDDEN STRONGHOLD...................................................................................17

CHAPTER VI. CLYDE GAINS NEWS...............................................................................................22

CHAPTER VII. THE LOWER DUNGEON .........................................................................................26

CHAPTER VIII. THREADS FROM THE PAST.................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. FORCED FLIGHT.......................................................................................................33

CHAPTER X. DOUBLED PURSUIT ...................................................................................................37

CHAPTER XI. CHANCE MEETING ...................................................................................................40

CHAPTER XII. CLYDE'S CONTACT .................................................................................................45

CHAPTER XIII. THE RETRACED ROUTE.......................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIV. CLYDE REPORTS...................................................................................................54

CHAPTER XV. DANGER BELOW .....................................................................................................57

CHAPTER XVI. AT THE CROSSROAD............................................................................................61

CHAPTER XVII. SILENT STRATEGY..............................................................................................66

CHAPTER XVIII. ALARM BELOW ...................................................................................................69

CHAPTER XIX. TWISTED TRAPS....................................................................................................74

THE lights of the filling station were dimmed amid the drizzle, as the small coupe nosed toward them. It

wasn't until the driver identified the round, dull glow of a gasoline standard that he was sure the place was

The discovery brought him satisfaction. Picking a way among the back roads on a hazy night was bad

enough; it was worse when the needle of the gasoline gauge had wangled almost to the empty mark.

Pulling in between the gasoline standard and the shack that served as service station, the driver of the coupe

honked his horn; then settled back to light a cigarette. The dim lights showed a wise face; eyes that were

Though young, the man at the wheel of the coupe had an oddish poise. His experienced air caused many

persons to class him as a newspaper reporter, which, in fact, he was. This traveler along the back roads of

Clyde was eyeing the service station as he lighted his cigarette. It looked like a oneman establishment; and

the poorlypainted sign above the door testified to that effect. It bore the name: "FRED'S SERVICE

STATION," and the man who came from the little building was evidently Fred, himself.

He was the sort of service station proprietor that Clyde expected to see in a remote location like this. Fred

was tall and lanky; he wore puttees, khaki trousers and an old sweater, topped by a black poncho. His face

was dreary, weatherbeaten; that of a man who had taken up his present occupation as a last resort.

There was something else, though, that Clyde noted instantly. There was a worried look on Fred's face as the

fellow saw the coupe. He seemed to be expecting some one that he didn't want to see. His lips grimaced

momentarily; then their expression changed. Clyde's car wasn't the one that Fred thought it was. That was

Clyde's brisk order brought a nod from Fred. Clyde's appearance added to the man's relief. That made the

While Fred was busy at the gasoline standard, Clyde alighted from the coupe and strolled over to open

Fred looked up suspiciously. He noted that Clyde was light of build, although wiry. He didn't seem the sort

"Yeah," he returned, gruffly. "I got a telephone. Only it ain't a pay station. People don't use it, generally "

"I want to call New York." Clyde produced his reporter's card. "The operator will give us the charges. I'll pay

Fred saw the reporter's card by the glow of the taillight. His expression showed a sudden eagerness. He

wanted to talk to some one, and Clyde seemed eligible. Fred thumbed toward the service station.

"Will you wait inside, sir?" he questioned. "I'll pull your car around in back."

Clyde nodded, Fred's request told him exactly what he wanted to know. Fred was awaiting the arrival of

Obligingly, Clyde went inside. He was seated in a chair by a battered desk when Fred joined him.

"TELL me something." Fred wasn't wasting any time. "Are you out here looking for a story?"

"In a way yes." Clyde spoke frankly. "We picked up a tip, down at the newspaper office, that some New

York mobbies were heading out this way. Just where they were going, and why, we don't know. So far, they

Clyde was outspoken, because he was confident that Fred was no crook. What he didn't tell Fred was that the

Classic knew nothing about the tip in question. Though Clyde was actually a newspaper reporter, he also

filled another job. Clyde Burke was an agent of The Shadow, the superfoe to all men of crime.

It was The Shadow who had learned of gangcar trips across the Jersey meadows. For the past four days, The

Shadow had been watching a crew of hoodlums that he expected would start forth. Meanwhile, he had sent

Clyde and other agents on tours of investigation, hoping that they might learn the probable destination of the

Clyde was thinking of those facts as he watched Fred. The man's eyes were staring out through the door, with

a faraway gaze. He was nodding over what Clyde had told him. Suddenly, Fred voiced, in awed tones:

Clyde awaited an explanation of the statement. For a few moments, Fred hesitated; then broke loose.

"Listen, Mr. Burke" Fred remembered Clyde's name from the reporter's card "every Wednesday night he

comes here, see? A fellow in a coupe; only it's bigger than your car. With Jersey license plates, instead of

New York. He never says nothing just holds up his hand, spread like this, meaning he wants five gallons of

"I've seen him close enough to guess what he is. He's a Turk, that's what! With a round face, yellowlike and

a mustache, like this." Fred drew his forefinger straight across his upper lip. "And he never smiles. Keeps his

Fred sat down. He watched Clyde, saw that the reporter was intent. That was because Clyde knew there must

be more to the story. Filling station men didn't worry about steady customers having a foreign appearance and

refusing to open conversation. Fred's next spell of hesitancy wasn't a long one.

"Here's what happens, every time." Fred leaned forward in his chair. "The guy don't pull out right away, see?

He smokes a cigarette sometimes two or three. They smell like pure Turkish; I whiffed the smoke once,

"Then, all of a sudden, a car goes by from the opposite direction. A sedan; but I never got its license number.

That's what the Turk's waiting for, though he don't show it. Maybe he finishes his cigarette; sometimes he

lights another, to bluff me. But he pulls out, circles back, after he's seen that car pass. And when he gets to

Fred arose and paced the cramped floor, nodding wisely. He had told his story, and he considered it airtight.

The tale impressed Clyde, too. Cars were infrequent along this lonely road. The fact that the Turk always

waited until one had passed was sufficient proof that the mystery man was awaiting that machine.

"I shoulda called the State police." Fred glanced ruefully at the telephone. "It's too late, though. The Turk's

"I have an idea." Clyde arose. "Don't call the State police at all; not until we know more about the case.

A splashing sound interrupted. A car was wallowing in from the rainsoaked road. Fred pointed quickly to a

CLYDE was off before Fred completed the hint. Once outside, he sneaked to the front corner of the little

building. From his vantage point, Clyde saw Fred going out to a large coupe that had parked beside the

The mystery car had arrived. Events repeated themselves exactly as Fred had described them. Clyde glimpsed

a darkish face that moved back into the car as Fred approached. A hand showed at the window to gesture for

five gallons. While Fred was putting gas into the tank, the man in the car lighted a cigarette.

Fred received his money and came back into the shack. The man in the car had finished one smoke. Clyde

could see the tiny flare of a match, as he lighted another. Hurrying to the side door, Clyde opened it and

"I'm going down to the bend," whispered Clyde. "If I don't come back, call this number. Tell the person who

The written telephone number that Clyde slipped to Fred was an unlisted one, important to The Shadow's

agents. The man who would answer a call there was Burbank, The Shadow's contact man.

Clyde shook his head. He told Fred not to worry about it; just to call the number. Fred agreed; but made

"Don't do that," interrupted Clyde. "If you've got to get in touch with the police, call Joe Cardona, the New

Leaving Fred, Clyde rounded the back of the shack and picked his way through the underbrush. His route was

silent; for the ground was heavily soaked. Soon out of earshot from the Turk's coupe, Clyde found a sudden

urge for speed. From down the road, he could hear the rapid rhythm of an approaching motor.

A sedan whizzed past, too swiftly for Clyde to do more than glimpse it from the bushes. It went by the

service station; and by the time Clyde was near the bend, he could hear the coupe pulling away from Fred's.

Just off the edge of the road, Clyde waited while the coupe pulled up. It stopped some thirty feet beyond him.

Clyde watched the driver get out and use a flashlight. He was looking for something just off the paving.

Stealing out to the roadway, Clyde saw the flashlight glimmer on a muddy satchel. The man picked it up and

That was when Clyde performed an impulsive move. Behind the coupe, he was out of sight. There wasn't

time to accost the mystery man; moreover, Clyde doubted the wisdom of seeking an encounter. He had time

for something else: the right trick in this pinch. Tiptoeing along through the drizzle, Clyde reached the back

With a long grab, Clyde clutched the handle of the rumble seat and shoved one foot upon a bumperette. He

gained another hold while the car was gathering speed. Clinging, flattened, the reporter was off on a trip that

BACK at the service station, Fred was listening to the last sounds of the coupe's departure. By the light of the

gasoline standard, he studied the slip of paper that Clyde had given him. Memorizing the phone number, the

Fred was thinking that perhaps Clyde had joined the man in the coupe. Maybe the reporter's visit was a trick

With an ugly mutter, the lanky man went into the shack and picked up the telephone. He was about to call the

State police, when he remembered something that Clyde had said, about calling Joe Cardona.

Just part of Clyde's bluff, thought Fred. All right, he would call that bluff. A chat with Joe would fix it.

Lifting the receiver, Fred told the operator to connect him with New York police headquarters. Fred grinned,

Fred's sudden mistrust was to prove his misfortune. He had trouble getting connected with Cardona; his call

took longer than if he had telephoned direct to Burbank. That delay was to prove fatal, for Fred's own actions

"Hello!" Fred was shouting at some one on the other end of the wire. "I want to talk to Inspector

Fred couldn't hear what was happening outside. A long touring car had slithered up to the front of the service

station; men, peering from its interior, could see Fred at the telephone. A pair of huskies slid out from the car;

"Hello, inspector!" Fred was talking again, while the watchers drew revolvers from their coat pockets. "I'm a

guy that's got a filling station, over in Jersey. I want to tell you about a car that stopped here... What's that?...

Fred turned, holding the telephone. He was muttering angrily, because of the wrong connection. His words

were audible, until his eyes happened to gaze through the doorway. Then, Fred's lips kept moving, but they

Goggleeyed, the lanky man was staring into the muzzles of revolvers. He saw the intruders step through the

doorway, their merciless eyes beady as they watched him. Fred clamped the telephone receiver to his ear; the

horror on his face was proof that he could hear no one on the other end of the line.

The invaders didn't wait for Fred to get his connection. What they had heard was enough to settle their policy.

This temporary interval was their opportunity. Before Fred had a chance to plead for life, the pair acted in

concert. Stubby fingers pressed revolver triggers. Each weapon stabbed a single shot at sixfoot range.

Fred's lanky body doubled. The telephone clattered from his hand and bounded on the floor. One second

later, Fred's sprawling body thumped beside it. Ugly eyes watched the man's last squirm. Leering lips gave

Killers had finished a man who knew too much. It had been easy to deliver coldblooded death at this remote

spot. This was one crime, they thought, that would never be traced. Their guess was a good one, so far as the

law was concerned. But those killers were not considering another factor in the case.

Murderers were to pay for their deed, much sooner than they would have deemed possible. Speedy vengeance

was due in this isolated place where men of crime had gained an evil triumph over a helpless victim.

THE sharp shots from Fred's shack were like a signal to other mobsters who waited in the touring car. One

thug craned from behind the wheel, while two more sprang from the rear of the car. Reaching the door of the

"We croaked the lug," growled a killer. "He was piping through a call to Joe Cardona! We'll listen to hear if

Joe gets it. You guys take a gander in back of the shack. See if there's a buggy there."

The pair circled the shack. The killer in the doorway started in to join his companion, when he heard a

warning "Psst!" from the driver of the touring car. The killer beckoned to his pal, who was listening at the

The warning words came from the touring car. The killers stared toward the roadway. They heard nothing,

saw nothing. The dripdrip of the rain smothered the sounds that might have reached them. Hazy night added

A huge roadster was edging in from the roadway, coasting along with its motor stilled. The big car halted just

short of being seen. From it emerged a shape that was lost in the darkness. Shrouded in night's blanket, an

From his point of observation, that visitant spied the little side doorway near the rear corner of the shack.

Clyde had left the door slightly ajar. Light gleamed through. Using that glow as an objective, a silent stalker

One murderer was back at the telephone; the other was searching Fred's body when the door inched inward.

A killer heard a slight creak; he whipped his revolver in the right direction as he stared instinctively toward

On the threshold stood a shape of blackness a cloaked figure that had materialized from night. Burning eyes

peered along the line of a leveled automatic. That sight brought a hoarse shout of recognition from the killer's

HAVING rapped two killers on the actual scene of murder, The Shadow intended to hold them for the law.

The telephone offered prompt communication with the authorities; and while the police were on the way, The

He could learn from his prisoners why they had come to this remote spot. The Shadow had a way of making

The murderers knew it. They recognized that The Shadow must have trailed them from New York. Only the

foggish thickness of the drizzle had given them chance to lose The Shadow for short intervals. They were

These thugs had some reason why they didn't want to talk. That was why they acted with sudden desperation.

One killer was crazed enough to open fire at The Shadow; a futile attempt, because the crook had no time for

accurate aim. The other murderer chose a course that was equally unwise. He made a mad dive for the open

doorway at the front of the shack, forgetful of the fact that The Shadow could easily drop him as he fled.

Luck favored the killers, where sense failed them. Without knowing it, the man who opened fire blocked The

Shadow's aim for the rogue who was attempting flight. Rather than let one crook get away without

Instead of dropping the first crook with a pointblank shot, The Shadow wheeled out through the side door

and cut for the front corner of the shack. The firing crook stopped short, gaping at the incorrect thought that

For a moment, the killer was ready to follow; then he changed his mind. He ducked out through the front

Both killers were to learn their mistake, with promptness. The driver of the touring car saw them dashing

toward him; he glimpsed The Shadow at the corner of the shack and gave a shout of warning. The murderers

The Shadow's .45 spoke its own message. Two gun stabs were all that he required to stagger the fugitives.

The first shot sprawled one thug on the running board of the touring car, where the crook clutched a wounded

shoulder. The second bullet found the next man's gun arm. The killer dropped his revolver; he howled as he

The man behind the wheel had dropped low into the seat. He was sliding the car into gear, ready for flight,

The fierce laugh that shivered from his lips was an urge for the scared driver to hurry away and leave the

actual murderers behind. That one fugitive could serve, later, to open a new trail to the bigshot who had sent

THE SHADOW'S policy was proof that he had made a miscalculation. He had not had a chance previously to

Arriving late, he had seen nothing of the pair that had gone to the back of the service station. They, in their

turn, had not guessed that The Shadow was responsible for the firing that they had heard.

The pair had discovered Clyde's car. Starting the coupe, they came speeding around the corner of the shack

just as The Shadow shifted off into the darkness. The glare of the headlights showed his cloaked form

With raucous shouts, the thugs tried to take advantage of their lucky opportunity. The crook at the wheel tried

to run The Shadow down, while the other leaned out with a revolver, to fire if The Shadow leaped away.

With splitsecond speed, The Shadow dodged the double menace. From his position, the gunmen expected

him to dive to the right. The man in the driver's seat yanked the wheel in that direction, while his companion

With a long bound, The Shadow went straight across the front of the oncoming car. He couldn't quite clear it

with that spring; but the thump that he took from the left fender was a glancing one. Instead of rolling beneath

Flattening in the mud, The Shadow rolled over, in case his foemen had seen his landing spot. He came to

hands and knees, still clutching his automatic. It would have gone badly with both crooks, had they stopped

All that The Shadow saw of the coupe was the final twinkle of the taillight as it twisted past trees that lined

the open road. He didn't even have time to recognize the car as Clyde's coupe. Coupled to that was another

The coupe had cut across the touring car's path; in so doing, it delayed the touring car long enough for the

When The Shadow fired at the touring car, it was also on its way, blotted from sight in the haze. Both cars

The Shadow remembered the telephone in Fred's shack. By a simple call, he could have the killers bottled.

That would leave him free to investigate these surroundings, where valuable evidence might be found.

The telephone, itself, could be a clue, for The Shadow had noticed that the receiver was off the hook. There

was still a chance to find out who Fred had been calling at the time when he was slain.

THE SHADOW hurried into the shack. He could hear clicks from the receiver before he reached it. Once the

receiver was against The Shadow's ear, he recognized the excited voice that was coming across the wire. Joe

Cardona had heard the shots over the telephone. The inspector was clamoring to know what had happened.

The tone that Cardona heard must have awed him, for Joe's babble ceased the moment that The Shadow

spoke. In calm, whispered words, The Shadow announced his identity; then told Cardona exactly what had

occurred. There was a short silence; after that, Cardona broke loose with a gruffvoiced thanks.

The New York inspector told The Shadow that he would promptly notify the New Jersey State police

regarding the murderers. He added that the New York police would be on the watch, in case the thugs tried to

Hanging up the telephone receiver, The Shadow stooped beside Fred's body and began a search. He found

nothing in the way of a clue. Unfortunately, Fred had torn up the paper that Clyde had given him. Those

scattered fragments, lost outside, would have told The Shadow much of the entire story.

The call to Cardona was evidence that Fred had uncovered something that he thought the New York inspector

would like to know. Whatever it was, it probably concerned some person unknown who had made a stop at

That deduction was the reason why The Shadow went out to the gasoline standard and began examining tire

The Shadow saw marks that represented the touring car and the small coupe that he had not identified as

Clyde's. Beside them were other tracks, that indicated a middlesize car. The Shadow traced them;

discovered that a car had pulled in from one direction and circled back the same way.

Entering his own car, The Shadow started along the road. He was using a yellowish foglight, tilted toward

the hard surface. Rain had washed away the traces that The Shadow wanted, until he neared the bend. There,

on the muddy shoulder of the road, were the same tracks that he had seen before.

Alighting, The Shadow discovered footprints. He recognized that the driver of the mystery car had stepped to

the ground to look for something. The Shadow lost no more time. He drove along the road, his hawkish eyes

THE trail was a blank one for nearly two miles. At that point, The Shadow saw a road that led to the left. It

was a dirt road, muddied by rain despite the overhanging trees. Tire tracks showed in the mud.

On the ground, The Shadow examined the marks of the tire treads and made a careful measurement. They

The mystery car had gone along the dirt road. A map showed that the journey might prove a long one, for the

road was poor and had intersections within the next five miles. There was a chance that the car might have

stopped somewhere along this obscure road. It was also possible that if the car, had continued through, The

The Shadow was at the wheel. Gears meshed silently; the big roadster took smoothly to the dirt. The car

gained speed along the lonely road. The Shadow was off on the quest that Clyde Burke had taken, a

The Shadow's keen brain recognized that his trail might prove important; there was evidence to make it so.

But The Shadow had gained no inkling that his agent was already involved. He was to learn of Clyde's part,

Finding an agent active on a trail was usually of advantage to The Shadow. This time, such a discovery was

CLYDE BURKE had expected difficulty in clinging to the slippery back of the coupe. Instead, he had

experienced no trouble. There had been a swift ride to the dirt road; after that, the car had rolled along at a

The car had covered scarcely more than three miles in its quarter hour of travel, and Clyde was benefiting by

the driver's care. He felt entirely secure on his perch; and with the gait no more than fifteen miles an hour, he

resolved to break the monotony. There was a chance, Clyde decided, to learn more about the driver.

Gaining a good grip, the reporter pulled himself up to the rear window and looked into the interior of the car.

Through the glass, Clyde could see the driver's wide shoulders and thick neck, but he couldn't get a good look

As he shifted his position for that purpose, Clyde happened to glance downward. What he saw, gripped his

The dashlight was a bright one. It showed the seat beside the driver. There lay the satchel that the man had

picked up from the highway. The bag was a fairsize one; it bulged so much that the clamp must have broken

when it was pitched from the sedan that Clyde had seen go by the bend. The bag was wide open, its contents

Clyde saw bundles of checks, that he recognized as the sort used in international exchange; bundles of

currency, in American notes and bills of other countries. The bag was literally stuffed with wealth; but from

Nevertheless, the sight held Clyde's eyes glued. That was why he failed to notice another pair of eyes, that

peered suddenly toward him from the mirror above the windshield. Dark eyes, set in a flat, yellowish face;

their sudden glint told that they had spotted the unwanted passenger on the back of the coupe.

Had Clyde looked at the mirror, he would have recognized that the driver of the car was actually a Turk, as

Fred had said. But Clyde's opportunity went before he had a chance to take it. The Turk turned slightly so that

his face could not be seen in the mirror. He was careful to give no inkling that he knew Clyde was on the

From that moment, the Turk began a cool campaign to lull Clyde into a false belief of security. He kept the

car at its easyrolling speed, picking the best spots of the road. When Clyde shifted back from the rear

window, the Turk did not even notice it. He was confident that sight of the open bag would keep Clyde right

That was all the Turk wanted. It was the buildup for a coming stroke of strategy.

AT the end of a half mile, wheel tracks ran from the left of the road. They marked the entrance of a private

byway that led through the woods. The Turk swung deliberately into the wheel tracks; brought the car to a

stop in front of bars that lay between two fence posts. He opened the door beside him and stepped from the

This time, Clyde saw the Turk plainly; for the man made no effort to obscure himself as he walked into the

path of the headlights. He took down the fence bars; carried them, one by one, to the darkness beside the rutty

Each time he lugged a rail, he paused to stack it before he returned. Those intervals the first two were the

Drawn high on the back of the coupe, Clyde watched through the window, expecting the Turk to come back

into the light. Clyde allowed a half minute, because of the other delays. The thirty seconds had passed before

Clyde suddenly suspected that something different had occurred. On a quick impulse, he shifted downward

There was a splash, five feet away, just as Clyde's feet hit the ground. The reporter swung about, to see the

Turk spring from a puddly spot. The yellowish face looked ruddy, demonish, in the glare of the red taillight.

Quick punches were Clyde's method. The Turk's big arms warded them off. The grab that he made for Clyde

was the quick clutch of a wrestler's. Clyde tried to dodge, but he was backed against the car.

He stabbed a hard punch; it landed beside the Turk's jaw, but it lacked the weight to stop the fellow. A second

The reporter didn't succumb as easily as the Turk expected. Clyde was wiry, and proved it when his husky

foe started to drag him from the bumperettes. A hard twist; Clyde was free enough to engage in a furious

He heard the Turk's breath hiss harshly, as though the fellow relished such a fight. Clyde found out why,

Every clutch resulted in a fall for Clyde. The Turk threw him around the muddy road, off into the underbrush,

with heaves that would have been knockouts on a wrestling floor. The soft turf was Clyde's salvation. Each

The finish came when the Turk finally missed a throw. The husky slipped on a patch of skiddy moss; went

plopping backwards, hanging on to Clyde. Instead of wrenching away, Clyde saw a chance he thought would

win the combat. He threw his own weight on the Turk, caught the man's neck and flattened the fellow's big

There wasn't any referee to give Clyde the verdict; so it didn't count. Instead, the Turk's big hands smacked

Clyde twisted, writhing in a torturing clamp that would have done credit to a python. He felt himself roll

over, to land on his back with a hard thwack. This time, he had no chance to get away before the Turk's full

THE Turk grunted; picked up his prisoner and carried him over one shoulder to the coupe. With his free

hand, the man put the opened satchel on the floor and sprawled Clyde in the front seat. He turned on the

From a deep pocket, the Turk produced a small hypodermic syringe. He jabbed the needle into Clyde's arm.

He watched the reporter for a few minutes; decided that the dope was taking effect. Turning out the

domelight, the Turk started his car ahead. He did not stop to replace the fence rails.

Despite the rain, the Turk had the window open beside him. He was listening intently as he drove slowly

along. At one place, the thickness of the overhanging boughs produced a hush despite the heavy rain. It was

The Turk had gained the sudden impression that another car had stolen into the woods behind him.

Somewhere along this narrow, twisted road, a clever pursuer had doused his own lights, to creep up behind

That, whether or not the Turk knew it, was a piece of strategy often used by The Shadow. Clyde's battle had

given his chief a chance to close in on the trail. It was seldom that any one detected The Shadow's ruse; but

Just as he had trapped Clyde, so did the Turk prepare a snare for the unseen follower in the car behind him.

The coupe came to the end of the private road. It was simply a twisted crosscut through the woods, that

The Turk stopped; opened the door beside him. As he alighted, he drew Clyde over to the driver's seat. The

Leaving the door ajar, the Turk stepped forward. He took the fence rails one by one and pitched them from

the road. The procedure was swift; the Turk was back to the car in less than a minute. As he arrived there, he

The trick was neat. Apparently, the driver had returned to his car. A few seconds more, the coupe would be

on its way. This was the one chance to halt it. The Turk expected a challenge, and it came.

A tall figure suddenly blurred the window beside the wheel. A whispered voice spoke, as a gloved hand

thrust inward with an automatic. An instant later, The Shadow's eyes saw the hunched position of the man at

With an upward move of his wrist, The Shadow tilted Clyde's head backward. In the glow of the dashlight,

he gained a startling sight. The Shadow was staring at the face of his own agent, gaining his first knowledge

A BACKLASH was The Shadow's next move. He recoiled from the side of the car so suddenly that he was

The Shadow had no time to aim. He was still twisting at the moment of the Turk's arrival. As big hands shot

toward him, The Shadow let his automatic drop. His clamping fists hooked the Turk's forearms; halted them

The Turk had toyed with Clyde, during that earlier struggle, trying throws as the quickest method toward

victory. With The Shadow he used headlocks, exerting a strength that had bonecrushing power.

The Shadow displayed the same tactics, meeting his opponent's efforts with equal skill. They wallowed

There, The Shadow took a deliberate sprawl, falling away from the Turk's hard lunges. Instantly, the Turk

hurled himself upon his flattened adversary. Arms first, his hands going for The Shadow's shoulders, the Turk

made an accurate plunge in the darkness. So accurate, that it served the very purpose that The Shadow had

Hands, thrust upward, landed like steel clamps upon the Turk's descending arms. The Shadow's right leg,

doubled upward, struck like a lever against his opponent's chest. An overhead kick gave impetus to the Turk's

There was a rolling clatter in the darkness. That stilled as The Shadow came to his feet and started to find his

adversary. The Turk was sprawled beside a tree; close to him was a large rock, projecting from steep, slippery

The Turk was groggy; but he rallied as The Shadow gripped him. He was ready for one last defiant effort.

The Shadow had another jujutsu trick to take care of that. He twisted the Turk sideways; faded away to spill

the fellow with a clipping scissors throw. All that The Shadow needed was a brace; he shoved his shoulders

The Turk lunged. The Shadow's legs clipped; his foe did a sideways tumble that ended in a helpless sprawl.

But with it, the Turk was due for unexpected victory. All The Shadow's weight was against the big rock. That

The rock overhung a gully. Its foundations loosened by the rain, the big stone was ready for a topple. It

ripped from the mossy soil, went crashing downward like a Juggernaut, clearing a swath through the saplings

The Shadow went with it. The hole that the rock left was a large one; it swallowed him before he could clutch

firm ground. The depths of the gully were like a vortex, that sucked its victim downward. The path that the

THE groggy Turk heard the echoes from below; the clatter of the rock as it bashed the bottom of the gully.

He came to his feet and crept to the brink, where he felt the sudden slant of the ground past the edge.

Echoes had stilled from the depths; but the Turk did not listen long to the patter of the rain.

Instead, he groped his way to the spot where his car stood. Pushing Clyde away from the wheel, the Turk

took the driver's seat. He started the coupe out through the open fence. Once in the clear, he did not pause to

Again, the mystery driver was carrying Clyde Burke as a helpless prisoner, along with a satchel of wealth.

A DOZEN minutes after the coupe's departure, there was a stir in the depths of the gully. A tiny flashlight

flicked from close to the ground. On one elbow, The Shadow dully studied the rocky bed that had been his

The Shadow's fall had been a slanted one, a distance of some thirty feet. He had handled the spill with the

skill of a professional tumbler; but a jolt against a hidden stone had stunned him at the finish.

He couldn't gauge how long he had lain there; but the steady sweep of the rain had certainly helped to revive

The main move was to get back to the roadway above the gully. The Shadow picked a path where small trees

offered hold. He swayed dizzily at times, during the upward climb; but he was steady when he reached the

The big roadster was intact. The Turk hadn't wasted time to put the car out of commission. Chances were

slight that The Shadow could overtake him. Nevertheless, with Clyde a prisoner, that was The Shadow's only

Discarding his cloak and slouch hat, The Shadow picked a raincoat from the rumble seat and slipped it over

his watersoaked shoulders. He drove the roadster through the gate, came upon a dirt road like the one that

he had formerly traveled. His foglight showed the coupe's tire tracks. The Shadow followed them.

Half a mile produced a narrow hardsurfaced highway. The Shadow saw tracks that told the coupe's

direction. Those marks were to prove the finish of the trail. Within a half mile, The Shadow came to a

crossroad, with a fork beyond it. There wasn't a mark on the macadam to tell which way the coupe had gone.

Consulting a road map, The Shadow made a choice and took that road. He came to another crossing; while he

Before he could start, he heard a shrill whistle. The car halted beside The Shadow's roadster and a pair of

One of the officers used a flashlight; it showed The Shadow's face. The police saw a thin, hawklike visage

beneath a felt hat; below, the collar and tie of a tuxedo collar that projected from the raincoat. They were

impressed by the appearance of the roadster's driver; particularly, the quiet manner of his gaze. They asked

The Shadow produced it. The State trooper stared when he saw the name on the New York card. He looked at

The Shadow's face, recognized it as one that he had seen in newspaper photographs.

"Kent Allard!" exclaimed the officer. "Say you're the famous aviator, aren't you? The fellow who was down

in Central America all those years?" (Note: See "The Shadow Unmasks," Vol. XXII, No. 5.)

"Sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Allard." The trooper returned the license card. "If there's anything we can do

The State cop grinned. This was a good one: Kent Allard, the famous aviator, lost in the maze of New Jersey

"We'll show you the way, Mr. Allard," said the trooper. "Better keep along with us, so other patrols won't

THE officer explained. There had been a murder at a filling station. The victim had been calling New York

police headquarters when he was slain. A New York inspector Joe Cardona had learned that Manhattan

"We've got those fellows bottled," declared the trooper. "Every main road covered. We're searching every

Kent Allard became thoughtful. He remembered a coupe that he had seen a short while ago. One with a New

Jersey license plate; he recalled the number in uncertain fashion, not quite sure of it.

The news impressed the troopers. They decided to report it, particularly when Allard said that the car had cut

The Shadow had named the license number of the Turk's coupe; and his uncertainty was merely a pose. He

Following the patrol car to the main highway, The Shadow decided that he had taken the only feasible

method to aid Clyde, for the present. A search of his own would be impossible, with patrol cars all about. It

They were hunting for thugs, but they would certainly halt the Turk's coupe if they saw it. The fact that the

number had been reported would force a questioning of the driver and whoever happened to be with him.

LESS than two hours later, Kent Allard strolled into the exclusive Cobalt Club, in Manhattan. He was dressed

An attendant approached, to inform him that Police Commissioner Weston was in the grillroom.

Going down a flight of steps, Allard saw Weston seated at a corner table with Joe Cardona. Both the

"Hoped you'd be here, Allard," announced Weston, briskly. Then, with a smile: "We've just learned that your

Weston nodded; turned to Cardona, with the comment: "Tell Mr. Allard the details, inspector."

Cardona gave them, in methodical fashion. The Jersey police had finally caught up with two cars on a main

highway. They had wrecked the first one, a touring car, with bullets, when the occupants had opened fire. The

three men in it had been killed. They proved to be New York gunmen; but they had given a surprisingly poor

Allard made no comment at that point, but he could have explained a detail that Joe hadn't heard in The

Shadow's telephone call. The murderers had been more effectively crippled than Cardona supposed. The

There was another car, Cardona added; it was a coupe that had made a getaway, heading for the Jersey

"Too bad," remarked Allard. "It may have been the suspicious car that I sighted on the back road. I reported

"We know," nodded Cardona, "but this wasn't the car. From what the State police did see of the license, they

"And it hasn't been seen. The State highway department checked on the number. Your guess wasn't right, Mr.

Allard. The number you gave them belongs to a car from Atlantic City. It's owned by a real estate man; he's

Allard chuckled at his own supposed error. He saw a road map on the table and began to study it. Cardona

had marked it with a pencil. He explained that the marks represented spots where the Jersey police had

"They're still looking for a coupe," reminded Cardona, "and they may pick up the one you saw. Only, the tag

ONE hour later, Allard left the Cobalt Club, after Commissioner Weston had received another report from

New Jersey. Nothing had been seen of either coupe. Allard had received that news in an indifferent fashion,

Soon, a light came on in a darkened room. Ghostly, bluish rays provided a strange light upon a polished table.

Hands crept beneath that glow, longfingered hands that moved like creatures with a will of their own. From

The Shadow was in his hidden sanctum. Above the light was the burn of keen eyes; the air was tinged with

the strange whisper of an inimitable laugh. The hands spread a map upon the table.

Fingers gripped a pencil, to mark the network of New Jersey roads with barriers identical to those that Joe

The Shadow was considering the mystery of the vanished coupes. One car was easily explained. It was

Clyde's car, with a New York license; the machine that thugs had stolen from in back of the service station.

When that car had fled, The Shadow had logically supposed that it belonged to Fred, the service station man;

for The Shadow had not had a chance to spot the New York tags. From Cardona's report, The Shadow had

later learned that Fred, living alone at the service station, was unprovided with an automobile.

The riddle involving the Turk's coupe required another answer. The news from Atlantic City gave it. The

Turk was driving a car that had counterfeit license plates. That fact was most important, for it enabled The

Any one driving a car with false license tags would be due for trouble, if he encountered police at any time.

Though The Shadow had not seen the satchel on the floor of the Turk's car, he knew that the man must have

been bound on some important errand; he also surmised that the trip had not been the first that the Turk had

The risk of a meeting with the law told two things about the mystery car's journey. First, it could not have

That accounted for the car's later disappearance. The Turk had been lucky enough to reach his destination

before patrollers met him. That left a limited area where the fellow's hideaway could be. Chances were that

the Turk had taken Clyde to the same place, within the cordon that the New Jersey police had so promptly

The Shadow studied the map, looking for loopholes. There were none. With the point where he had fought

the Turk as a central spot, The Shadow found that all side roads had been barricaded where they met main

It formed an irregular area, shaped roughly like a long diamond. The nearest point, a crossing of two main

arteries, was only twenty miles from New York. But the far point at the diamond, another highway junction,

was more than twenty miles west of the first one. From north to south, the space measured about twelve miles

Roads were numerous in that area, and the State police had confined their search to those byways. A more

extensive search was necessary one that must be undertaken by picked men, working in systematic fashion.

It might require a week for an undercover crew to complete the scouring of that district; but there was a

chance that some member of the search party would happen upon the objective soon after the hunt began.

The Shadow's hand marked sections on the map, as he spoke orders to the contact man. The Shadow was

sending word to all his agents, through Burbank, assigning each man a section of territory to be covered.

With those orders, The Shadow added details regarding contact between the searchers. All reports were to be

The map looked like a patchwork design, when The Shadow had finished his instructions. Gaping from the

exact center of the marked area was the largest block of the lot: a diamond that formed a core of the entire

territory. That space was significant. It was the ground that The Shadow had chosen to search in person.

The bluish light went out. Deep stillness existed in the thick blackness of the sanctum. The room seemed

empty, until a sibilant tone told that a presence remained there. That tone was a sinister laugh, mirthless in its

That laugh left shuddering echoes. When those reverberations had faded, the sanctum was actually deserted.

The Shadow had departed to resume his quest, aided by a full quota of trusted agents. Efforts would be

WHEN Clyde Burke awakened, he found himself in surroundings that seemed singularly pleasant. That was

due to the dreams that he had experienced. His brain teemed with a medley of fantastic images, produced by

Clyde was stretched on a divan, in a room that was lavish with rare furniture and expensive Oriental rugs.

Soft light glowed from an ornamental wallbracket. Clyde saw a large door that looked formidable; he

That accounted for a constant coolness that filled the place. Clyde realized that the room was airconditioned,

and in that state, it was entirely cut off from the world. He was in a veritable prison cell, despite its de luxe

A chaos of bewildering nightmares still troubled Clyde. He could picture hideous, fanciful creatures that had

surrounded him. They seemed to people this very room, as if ready to spring forth and begin new torment.

He sprang for the door, to stumble before he reached it. Regaining his feet, Clyde rattled the doorknob. The

The spasm of horror passed; Clyde collected his scattered impressions and managed to reach a chair. He

noted his attire; it was real enough. Clyde was wearing his own clothes, except for shoes, coat and vest.

Clyde's first act was to search his own pockets, to see what they contained. They proved empty; some one

had rifled them of their entire contents. That didn't worry Clyde; he couldn't think of anything he carried that

Tracing the past, Clyde assembled sensible thoughts from his confusion. He remembered the drizzly drive

along the New Jersey roads; the stop at Fred's filling station. He recalled the trip on the back of the coupe,

All during those recollections, Clyde fought to discard thoughts of nightmarish faces that kept cropping up

from his dreams. Sometimes, those impressions gripped him so strongly that he could scarcely resist them.

Clyde remembered the sinister mustached Turk who had battled him; he identified the fellow among the faces

from the nightmare. The whole room seemed to cloud; Clyde shut his eyes as he gripped the arms of his

With his eyes shut, the room seemed whirling. Faces tormented him; dancing figures gestured and pointed.

Clyde could fancy the babble of jeering tongues. Tilted in his chair, he lost his balance; he felt himself

falling, as he actually was. But that short drop to the floor was like a plunge into a limitless abyss.

Clyde felt his final thud. He was surprised that it was such a light one. The jolt cleared his thoughts; the

vicious faces faded. Then came hands, that raised him. Strong arms, but easy in their lift. Clyde felt himself

THE stare that Clyde gave was as fixed as a hypnotic gaze. He was looking squarely at a face that he

remembered from that last chaos of thoughts the one face of the lot that actually existed. The man who had

raised him from the floor was the flatfaced Turk who had conquered him in last night's battle.

Oddly, sight of the man in the flesh was something that steadied Clyde's broken nerves. If any of the other

faces had proved real, Clyde would have gone berserk. But this one, actual and alive, drove away impressions

of the others. It brought back Clyde's sane thoughts. His lips smiled relief as he settled back in his chair.

The Turk spoke placidly, in English, but with a slow, choppy accent. His query was a careful one, tinged with

The last sentence sounded like a question; but Clyde realized that it was probably an order. Finding his voice,

The Turk's tone was firmer. Clyde decided it best to visit the master mentioned by Yakbar. He started to get

up from his chair; he would have tumbled but for Yakbar. The fellow caught Clyde and guided him to the

There was a trip through a short passage; a turn into another, with doors along the way. At last, they reached

A deep voice gave command to enter. Yakbar opened the door and urged Clyde through.

Clyde saw a room much larger than his own; but it, also, was windowless. It was furnished like an office;

behind a big desk, Clyde saw a man of impressive appearance. He was elderly; his tightskinned face

But there was power in the long, scrawny hands that lay upon the desk; persuasion in the challenging,

As Clyde stared, the whitehaired man arose; he extended a hand for a shake across the desk. Clyde felt a

powerful grip; he heard the boom of heavytoned words, that were repressed with a peculiar effort of the old

"Good afternoon, Mr. Burke! I am Doctor Nicholas Borth. It pleases me to welcome you as my guest. Be

CLYDE took a chair that Yakbar offered him. All the while, the reporter retained his stare toward Borth.

Clyde had met men of many nationalities, and thought himself an expert at placing any foreigners; but

Nicholas Borth baffled him. Either Borth was a man who had no country, or he was one who was at home in

Doctor Borth seemed to relish Clyde's bewilderment, for his smile was an indulgent one. There was

"From these." Borth produced an envelope and slid Clyde's belongings to the desk. "You may reclaim them,

Mr. Burke, for they are your property. But wait" Borth raised a restraining hand "I have not yet finished

Borth gestured to his right. Clyde looked, to see a girl step from beside a filing cabinet. Her eyes met Clyde's;

The girl's face had a loveliness, along with a frank expression. Her eyes had a sympathy, that was shown also

by her lips. She was a blonde, and Clyde was positive that she was either English or American.

"This is Miss Delban," introduced Borth; then, as Clyde came to his feet: "Be seated, Mr. Burke. Miss Delban

is my secretary. She has much to do here. For the present, however" Borth's smile was a dry one "she will

With that, Borth turned to the girl and indicated a chair. He added the comment:

Diane Delban. Clyde intended to remember that name, as well as the girl to whom it belonged. Diane's

manner, the open look that she gave were meant to tell Clyde that he had one friend in these strange

Clyde was prompt to catch that expression. With it, he sensed a warning that was easy to understand.

It would be best for Clyde to comply with any request that Doctor Borth might make. The piercing eyes that

shone from Borth's withery face were the sort that could harden if they found occasion. Clyde felt sure that

Borth was capable of dealing harshly with any person that he considered an enemy.

As for Yakbar, Clyde had already encountered the Turk's methods. The bonecrushing wrestler might prove

Clyde's speculations ended as Borth purred a question. The restrained rumble was a demand for information.

"You are a reporter, Mr. Burke," declared Borth. "Tell me, just how did you happen to embark on your

"I was lost in the back roads," replied Clyde. "I happened to stop at a filling station. I was there when

"Yakbar waited. I wondered why. I saw his face; I wondered why a Turk was in New Jersey. Just on a crazy

Clyde's story was a partial statement of fact. He was intimating that his purpose was to obtain a newspaper

story. Just how far Borth believed it, Clyde could not tell. The wisefaced doctor eyed Clyde steadily, but

"I shall give you a story, Mr. Burke," announced Borth, "and it will be a very good one. Provided that you do

not make it public until a future date that I shall specify. Is that agreeable?"

Clyde decided that it was. Borth leaned across the desk; resting his chin in his hand, he spoke emphatically.

"The location of this headquarters must remain a secret!" declared Borth "for a very simple reason. I am the

representative of certain wealthy Europeans who were forced to flee from their homelands, because they were

persecuted by tyrannical governments. They found refuge in England, bringing fortunes in jewels.

"Even there, they feared spies. They decided to convert their wealth into money, by sending the gems to

America. They entrusted me with the task of selling the gems for which I receive a nominal commission,

"In order to protect myself, I have operated from this hidden stronghold; and that policy has proved wise.

Criminals in this country have learned of my possessions, and are seeking to acquire them."

The story sounded plausible; Borth's convincing tone gave it a true touch. There was one point, however, that

didn't click with Clyde. Borth must have guessed it, for he promptly covered the detail.

"Last night," he stated, "Yakbar made a regularly scheduled trip to pick up funds that were due from the sale

of jewels. While I employ many selling agents, none know the location of this headquarters. Trusted persons

bring checks and cash at stated intervals; but they always drop them at a place where Yakbar finds them."

That explained the matter of the satchel. Cannily, Doctor Borth had taken it for granted that Clyde had seen

"I have told you the whole story, Mr. Burke. If you wish, I shall have Miss Delban support my testimony."

For a moment, Clyde saw the girl hesitate. She looked toward Clyde; then turned her eyes in Borth's

THERE was a pause, while Borth stroked his tightskinned chin. He was thinking about Clyde's presence

"Yakbar feared that you might be an enemy," Borth told the reporter. "That is why he brought you here. I am

quite willing to release you, with the proviso that Yakbar take you, blindfolded, to a place some distance from

here. Afterward, you will be free to relate your adventure here, for I shall soon leave this headquarters and

"Unfortunately, my plans are still uncertain. I might find it impossible to communicate with you at later date.

Therefore, I suggest that you remain here for a few days. If you do" Borth's tone was like a promise "I

Clyde caught a nod from Diane. It indicated that there was actually but one choice: that was to accept Borth's

"A guest," assured Borth. "Your room will be unlocked. I must specify, however, that if you come from your

Clyde was about to ask what penalty would follow if he failed to abide by the terms. He decided to omit that

"Should you take unfair advantage of my hospitality," the doctor added, "your status will become that of a

Doctor Borth bowed when he heard Clyde's reply. Rising, the doctor again indicated the objects that belonged

to Clyde. While the reporter was pocketing them, Borth ended the interview with the abrupt declaration:

"Yakbar will conduct you back to your room. We shall dine in half an hour, Mr. Burke."

As Yakbar held the door open for Clyde's departure, the reporter looked back toward Doctor Borth. Past the

elderly man, Clyde saw Diane. She was holding the notebook in which she had copied shorthand notes of

everything that Clyde and Borth had said. For the first time, the girl was entirely clear of observation by

Diane's lips framed words that she could not utter aloud. Clyde was unable to catch their import, but Diane's

expression told him much. Her face was eager; tinged with anxiety. She was beseeching Clyde to be careful;

at the same time, she was making it plain that he must somehow manage to talk with her alone.

That, Clyde decided, was something that he would accomplish at the first opportunity. No matter how

hazardous the quest might be, it might produce facts that Doctor Nicholas Borth had craftily refrained from

When Clyde finally left this hidden abode, he would carry more news than Doctor Borth expected. Clyde

ONCE back in his room, Clyde began to examine the articles that Doctor Borth had returned to him. Such an

item as his New York reporter's card had served him in good stead. Whatever enemies Borth avoided,

After pocketing his belongings, Clyde noted his watch. It showed the time as half past six; Clyde thought the

watch was stopped, until he saw the second hand moving steadily. That made him remember Borth's greeting.

The doctor had welcomed Clyde with the words "Good afternoon"; and, later, he had mentioned dinner.

This wasn't Thursday morning, as Clyde had first supposed. It was Thursday evening. Clyde had slept all

through the day. No wonder he had awakened dopey! Yakbar must have given him an oversized injection.

While Clyde was thinking about Yakbar, there was a rap at the door. It was the Turk, himself, announcing

Clyde took that news eagerly, for he foresaw another meeting with Diane. He was disappointed. Yakbar led

him to a dining room opposite the office, and there Clyde found Doctor Borth alone.

The dryfaced doctor gave no explanation for Diane's absence. He simply chatted with Clyde on other

Borth mentioned a point that he had forgotten. He thought it best that Clyde's office have some explanation

for the reporter's absence. Clyde agreed with that; when Borth supplied him with a telegraph blank, Clyde

He didn't have a chance to code anything into the wire; he simply stated that he was seeking a special story

That apparently satisfied Borth. The doctor said that he would have Yakbar send the telegram from a nearby

city. That left Clyde completely in the dark. Judging from the hours that he had slept, Clyde believed that he

With Borth chatting about everything except the subject of his guarded gems, Clyde began to feel the

aftereffects of the dope. He was almost asleep, sitting up, when they had finished dinner.

Borth suggested that his guest take another rest. Clyde went back to his room, alone; once there, he stretched

Whether or not Clyde had used good judgment in letting Borth send the telegram, was something that only

the future could tell. As he slipped into his drowse, Clyde decided that the doctor could have sent one

Somehow, this hidden lair, with its lavish furnishings, constant coolness and unchanging light, was a place

IN fact, Clyde had gained the feeling that time stood still in the abode of Doctor Borth. It wasn't the dope that

caused that peculiar sensation, for Clyde experienced it again when he awoke, this time without the

Fishing his watch from his vest pocket, Clyde noted the time. The timepiece said quarter of twelve.

Was it still Thursday evening; or did the watch signify the close approach of Friday noon?

Puzzling over that question, Clyde realized why he had gained the odd impressions about the passage of time.

Daylight never penetrated to these windowless rooms. In such a cavernous dwelling, even a watch could not

There was another problem, Clyde had a distinct idea that something had awakened him. He groped for a

recollection of a noise that he must have heard. While he was trying to place it, the sound came again a

The knocks ended, as though frightened away. When they did not recur, Clyde decided to investigate.

He found the door unlocked as Doctor Borth had promised. The corridor was lighted, but empty and

profoundly silent. Clyde closed his door behind him; he stole along the corridors, the tufted carpeting stilling

He was puzzled about the doors, until he reached the one that opened into Borth's office. Clyde tried that

The office was empty. Once inside, Clyde decided that he had not violated Borth's terms. The whitehaired

doctor had simply specified that Clyde remain on this particular floor. That proviso itself was a puzzler.

Picturing this as an underground abode, Clyde wondered how other floors came into it.

Looking around the office, Clyde gingerly tried the drawers of filing cabinets; he found them locked. The

same was true of the desk drawers. Clyde's only discovery of any interest was a clock on the desk, its dial

Clyde knew that such clocks were sometimes used in Europe; and evidently Borth had brought this one with

him. It was most useful in a place like this; and it had a space below the dial that showed the date.

From it, Clyde learned that his recent sleep had been a short one. It was still Thursday evening, although

There was a door in a corner alcove. Clyde tried it, found it unlocked. He saw a circular stairway, leading

farther underground. That explained Borth's warning regarding the limits to which Clyde could go. The

Dim light glowed from the bottom of the staircase; those metal steps invited Clyde's descent. With no one

CAREFULLY, Clyde went to the bottom of the steps; built solidly, the staircase gave no clangs. Below were

Stealing along stone floors, between closehemmed walls, Clyde at last saw a door ahead. Sight of it brought

The door was a bulky barrier of steel, with a combination like that of a vault. Beyond it could lie the treasure

Clyde hadn't estimated how much that wealth might be; but from Doctor Borth's mention of commissions,

Clyde figured that the total value ran into millions. It didn't seem likely that the vault door would be

unlocked, but it was worth a chance to try it. First, though, Clyde stole back to a passage and listened to make

He fancied that he heard a stir from a side passage, where some one might have stepped at sound of his

return. Complete quiet followed, and Clyde was reassured. He decided to have a quick look at the vault; then

A dozen feet short of his objective, Clyde heard an excited whisper that struck a warning to his brain. He

turned half about; before he could take another forward step, hands seized him. Clyde looked into the anxious

"No farther!" exclaimed the girl. "I feared that you had come down here. You must go upstairs again, at

Diane's tone told of real danger if Clyde advanced toward the vault door. But her anxiety for him to return

upstairs was less important. Clyde leaned against the wall; he smiled slightly as he studied the girl's face. He

"Yes," replied Diane. "I wanted to talk to you. I couldn't stay long at your door. I might have been observed

"There are others," declared Diane. "Many others! Like you, Mr. Burke, I once believed that Yakbar was

Doctor Borth's only servant. That was when I met Doctor Borth, in London, where he told me the same story

"I came to America with Doctor Borth. For a while, we stayed at a hotel in New York. Then he spoke of

enemies; we moved here" Diane paused "wherever this place may be. But it was just before we came here

that I learned what his real business was; and who the enemies were that he feared."

Diane's eyes met Clyde's. Her hands pressed the reporter's arm. Steadily, the girl stated:

"Doctor Borth is a counterfeiter! He finishes work in one country, then goes to another. He floods every land

CLYDE recalled recent reports of bad money in New York. He hadn't thought it a serious wave, because

"queer" money peddlers were always starting anew, after one batch had been suppressed. But in this case,

Diane's revelation pointed to a gigantic swindle. Managed by Doctor Borth, from a stronghold such as this, a

"Doctor Borth tested some of the false money in New York," explained Diane. "I had some with me; I was

questioned by government men. I promised them I would learn where it was manufactured. At last I know"

Diane pointed "for I have seen beyond that door! But there is no longer a way for me to communicate with

Clyde considered all that Diane had said. The ring of truth in her story was definite; but Clyde decided that he

could prompt new recollections if he seemed unimpressed by the girl's story. With a shrug, he remarked:

"Perhaps you have misunderstood Doctor Borth. You may have mistaken certain facts "

Diane's eyes interrupted with an outraged gaze. She lost none of her loveliness when she gave that silent

challenge. On the contrary, the look gained Clyde's admiration. He recognized the girl's bravery, although he

Diane was wearing a dressing gown of navy blue. From a pocket of it, she produced a slip of paper that

The clipping was from a morning newspaper, that had evidently been delivered some time late in the day but

prior to Clyde's interview with Borth. Clyde read startling news: a complete account of the murder at the

The exact time was mentioned. Clyde recognized that Fred's death had taken place soon after his own

departure. Mention of a telephone call to New York police headquarters told Clyde that Fred must have

The kill was attributed to New York mobsters, who had fled in two cars. One was obviously Clyde's; but

there was no mention of The Shadow. Clyde did not guess that his chief had arrived to wage battle. To Clyde,

That was to escape the toils of Doctor Borth; to contact The Shadow and bring his vengeance upon the

conniving fiend who had come from overseas. With that escape, there would be rescue also. Diane must be

From that moment, Clyde resolved, no time could be wasted. Every thought must concern the vital issue.

Clyde and Diane would be fighting for a common cause: the ultimate overthrow of the nefarious Doctor

THE clipping clenched in one fist, Clyde held up his other hand in warning. He and Diane listened, to make

Satisfied that they still had time together, Clyde gave the clipping back to Diane. As he did, he gritted the

"That is exactly what Doctor Borth said. He told me that it would not be good policy to show you the

clipping. You might as he put it misunderstand the facts. He reminded me that you were a newspaper

Clyde's look was quizzical, as if he wondered whether Diane had felt the same. The girl's smile proved

"I saw through the sham, Mr. Burke," declared Diane. "When I agreed with what Doctor Borth said, it was

purely to keep him unaware of what I knew. Those enemies, as he calls them, were killers in his own employ.

They weren't seeking a trail to this place, and, therefore, anxious to murder a man who might have spoken

and spoiled their game. They killed to keep the law from learning anything regarding Doctor Borth himself!"

Diane's hands became limp. There was a choke to the girl's grieved tone, as she added:

"If I could only have sent word! The government men are waiting to hear from me. But it is impossible for

"Two, perhaps. But I have not sounded them. It would be useless, since their position is the same as mine."

There was no use in debating the Borth question any longer. Clyde knew that he had heard Diane's full story.

The proposition was to find a way whereby this place could be revealed. Clyde started a suggestion.

"If I could leave here," he began, "without Borth knowing all that I have learned "

"Doctor Borth does not intend to release you, Mr. Burke. He said as much tonight. Still, there might be a

The girl paused, her forehead furrowed. Again, her hand pressed Clyde's arm. Her tone was an earnest one.

"If you were imprisoned," she told Clyde, "as Doctor Borth threatened, I could release you. I know a route by

"He wouldn't know. He would appoint a guard to watch your cell. I am sure that there is one, at least, who

The idea sounded good. Clyde's nod told that he was game. Diane insisted, however, upon one provision.

"You must carry my message directly to the government men," said the girl. "I promised them a confidential

report; I even memorized a code that I am to use. They are the only ones who could surely trap Doctor Borth.

"Your life would be at stake," finished Clyde, solemnly. "I understand" he paused; then added the name

"Diane. I promise that I will carry your message, without visiting either the police or the newspaper once."

DIANE rewarded Clyde with a trusting smile. She did not know that Clyde's promise excluded the matter of

contact with The Shadow. If Diane had heard of that mysterious being, she had not connected Clyde with

There was no time for Clyde to mention The Shadow to Diane. A plan had been arranged; the one course was

"I've got to cross the old doctor," declared Clyde, grimly. "Suppose I let him find me down here, Diane. That

Diane nodded. Before she could speak, her ears caught a sound. It came from a distant passage, somewhere

near the stairs. Diane's ears were keener than Clyde's, for she whispered a prompt warning before he heard

"It may be Yakbar!" exclaimed Diane. "We must make him think that I have trapped you! He is one rogue

Hurriedly, the girl moved to the outer end of the passage. Clyde saw her draw a small revolver. She was

watching for Yakbar, intending to cover Clyde the moment that the Turk arrived close enough to see her

Clyde forgot a detail of the past. To help the cause along, he again started to approach the vault door.

"Stop where you are!" Diane shrilled the order in a tone that carried anguish. "Instantly or I fire!"

She shrieked the words at Clyde; he didn't realize that it was thought of his safety that impelled the sudden

Blundering, Clyde would have gone still farther toward the vault door, if Diane had let him.

Quickwitted in emergency, Diane added sting to the needed threat. She tugged the revolver trigger; a bullet

Astonishment brought Clyde to a standstill; he took a back step as he turned about to face Diane. For a

moment, he thought that the girl had turned against him, an instant later, he saw that Diane had saved him.

The floor was sliding open between Clyde and the vault. Split halves were slithering beneath the wall, leaving

a gaping pit below. That last step had put Clyde upon a trap; his withdrawal, thanks to Diane's shot, was all

Yakbar arrived to find Clyde faced about, his back to the blackened hole. Clyde's arms were raised; he was

The girl's features were also pallid; her hand was trembling. Yakbar took it for excitement at bagging a

The eagleeyed old man appeared less than a minute later; he came from within the vault itself.

At sound of Borth's booming voice, Clyde looked around, avoiding the pit as he did so. Lights were out

within the vault; but it looked deep, fitting Diane's description of a counterfeiting den. Clyde realized that the

place must be airconditioned, like the rest of this underground lair. Borth must have caught an automatic

"So, Mr. Burke" Borth's tone was cold, showing a harsh irony "you have violated the hospitality that I

"We have not forgotten them," resumed Borth. "I call upon Yakbar and Miss Delban to bear witness. You

were to remain upon the upper floor. You failed to do so; therefore, you become a prisoner instead of a guest!

"You came to see what lay below" Borth supplied a deep chuckle "and you have seen. Not only this floor,

but one that lies still lower down." Borth pointed to the pit, as he added: "Very well, you shall learn more of

WITH a nod of approval, Borth motioned for Diane to put away the revolver. He beckoned to Yakbar; the

Turk came toward Clyde, with big hands extended. Diane tried to flash the signal that all would be well; but

From the girl's grim look, Clyde misunderstood. He thought that matters had taken a bad turn that Diane

With a sudden drive, Clyde flung himself upon the Turk. They began a battle like the one of the night before;

but, this time, Clyde knew something of Yakbar's methods. Driven to sheer desperation, Clyde fought Yakbar

Doctor Borth boomed a loud command as he witnessed Yakbar's failure. Proof of Diane's statement regarding

many servants, was the event that followed. Footsteps clattered from remote passages. Arriving henchmen

threw themselves into the fray. Clyde was lost amid the tangle of glaring faces that looked like demon

They were nondescript butlers of many nationalities, nearly a dozen of them, all anxious to put across the

As they hurled him toward the pit, Clyde wrenched away. A diving opponent tripped him; Clyde took a

backward spill for the trap. As he fell, he expected to plunge down into darkness. Instead, he flattened with a

Looking up, Clyde saw the sardonic face of Doctor Borth. The old man had pressed a switch just inside the

vault door. During the fray, the floor had closed to make a solid landing place.

As powerful arms plucked him, Clyde saw beyond hostile faces. He glimpsed Diane and saw the relief that

This was the finish that Diane had expected from the start: Clyde a prisoner in the hands of Borth's

THOUGH Borth had closed the deadly pit, his threat of a lower prison cell was fulfilled. Jarred by his fall to

the floor, Clyde could offer no more fight as Yakbar and four others carried him bodily toward an outer

passage. They reached a corridor that ended in a wall; Yakbar pressed a switch that opened the barrier.

The captors descended a long steep stairway, to another floor of passages where they used flashlights to find

their way. The length of the descent made Clyde glad that he had not fallen through the opened floor.

They reached a door that suited Yakbar. The Turk opened it; flickered a flashlight into a cell that was

furnished with a battered cot, a chair and a table. Yakbar grunted words in a foreign tongue. Clyde's bearers

shoved him through the doorway; laughed raucously as their prisoner went floundering to the stone floor.

Before Clyde could gain his feet, the door slammed shut. A huge key grated in a rusty lock. In

As he sat down, his head was in a whirl; but, gradually, his thoughts cleared. This lower dungeon wasn't to be

Imprisonment was the route to freedom. In that blackness, Clyde could fancy he heard the earnest tones of

Diane Delban. He knew that the girl would find an opportunity to release him, and send him on the way for

Looking into the future, Clyde could almost hear the whisper of strange, sinister mirth, that would eventually

Clyde hoped that he would be present when The Shadow finally confronted Doctor Nicholas Borth.

ANOTHER day had passed; with it, public interest in the New Jersey murder had faded. With three crooks

There was one man, however, who had taken the whole case very grimly. That man was Joe Cardona, the

Cardona felt that he was to blame because Manhattan hoodlums had invaded New Jersey without his

knowledge. He didn't tell that to the reporters who thronged his office; instead, Joe kept a bluff expression on

his swarthy, pokerfaced countenance. But all the while, the ace inspector was counting on some break that

There was one reporter who didn't show up in Joe's office. That was Clyde Burke, the one news hawk who

was smart enough to ask bothersome questions. For a whole day, Cardona had been expecting Clyde to

One of the reporters said that Burke had wired from Trenton, saying that he had taken on a freelance

That news troubled Cardona. It gave him a hunch that Clyde might have traced the two hoodlums that

escaped after the filling station murder. It would be swell, thought Cardona, if Burke suddenly showed up

with facts that the police hadn't been able to get. Swell, nix! That idea simply spurred Cardona to seeking

It never occurred to Cardona that Clyde might be in a plight of his own. That was something that only The

The situation, however, was due to produce results, because of the way Cardona had taken it. All this day,

Cardona was tapping the "grapevine," through the aid of stool pigeons. Every now and then, underworld

rumors reached him from squeamish crooks who served as the law's spies in the bad lands. It was almost dusk

A ratfaced stoolie was introduced to Cardona's office. He had a story that clicked.

"I knowed th' mugs that croaked th' fillin' station guy," informed the stoolie, "but I ain't got no idea why they

"Some guy that had a slick sedan," explained the stoolie. "He went out and they tailed along."

"To cover up," muttered Cardona, on a sudden hunch. "Say, why didn't you spill this sooner, so I could find

"That's what I was tryin' to find out," whined the stoolie. "I knowed what kind of buggy th' sedan was, an' th'

garage where it started from. Only, th' bus didn't come back there until today. So I just got my chanct to find

The stoolie produced a crumpled piece of paper on which he had scrawled the facts. He gave it to Cardona,

Joe dismissed the stoolie and immediately set to work. It didn't take him long to find out who Kirk Barsley

"Kirk Barsley," declared Joe. "For ten years a traveling representative for wholesale jewelry firms. Chucked

up a good job, a few months ago, saying he was going into business on his own, but he hasn't been calling on

"Sounds like a front for some racket, if you ask me! A guy can't manage a business in New York and be on

the road, too. Barsley can't have much capital; and he hasn't been buying jewelry to sell out of town. I'm

Often, when Joe Cardona set forth on odd expeditions, his moves were promptly known to The Shadow.

Sometimes, a janitor named Fritz was on the job at police headquarters; and Fritz unknown to Cardona

was frequently impersonated by The Shadow. On other occasions, Clyde Burke spotted Cardona's moves.

Today, The Shadow was searching for Clyde, who, in turn, was a prisoner at Doctor Borth's underground

The man who noted him was a hunchy, wisefaced fellow who had a way of dodging out of sight. His name

Hawkeye had not been delegated to the search in New Jersey. He wasn't suited to such territory. Instead, he

had remained in New York; and there, Hawkeye had spotted the visiting stoolie who went to Cardona's

It was nearly dark when Cardona reached an obscure office building in a dingy district. There was no

elevator; Joe walked up rickety stairs to the third floor. There, he found a darkened office that bore the name

While Cardona was rattling the knob, a tiredlooking man came from another office. Joe inquired about

"Hardly ever see him," informed the tired man. "He's never around in the daytime. Once or twice, when I've

been working late, he's come in around nine o'clock. Maybe he'll be in this evening."

Cardona decided that he would come back later. He followed the tiredfaced man down the stairs. From a

stairway to the fourth floor, Hawkeye listened until their footsteps had faded; then started to emerge from his

Hawkeye had just time to duck from sight when he heard a door open. A squatty man, as stocky as Cardona,

came from a darkened office and cautiously went downstairs. Hawkeye promptly took up the new trail. It led

There, the squatty man stopped at the desk and said that he wanted to talk to James Cleeve. From the

darkened outer doorway, Hawkeye couldn't hear what the man said over the telephone; but he went upstairs

afterward. Hawkeye was able to watch the elevator dial. The car stopped at the fifth floor.

It wasn't long before Hawkeye was on that floor himself. He found an apartment door, where he could hear

the mumble of voices. It was the one he wanted; but there was no chance to listen in from the hall.

The turn of the corridor indicated that Cleeve's apartment opened into a courtyard. On that chance, Hawkeye

The door of the vacant apartment was locked; and Hawkeye was no locksmith. He chose another mode of

entry: through the transom. Inside, he sneaked to a window and opened it quietly. Thanks to the warm

Hawkeye saw a group of men; four of them. He could hear their conversation. Moreover, he identified the

man who must be Cleeve. He was tall, straightshouldered, with a blocky face that bespoke action. Above

Cleeve's square chin were tight lips, a keenly pointed nose and heavy eyebrows that matched his blackish

Cleeve was a leader; that was instantly evident. The others listened respectfully to all he said; gave nods

"So you're sure that it was Cardona." Cleeve was talking to the squatty man. "That means he'll be back!

Somehow, he's figured that Barsley went over to Jersey, two nights ago. I'm wondering" Cleeve paused, to

Some of the listeners started a protest. Cleeve silenced them with an impatient gesture.

"We know that Barsley ships the cash to Doc Borth," he affirmed, "but we've learned, too, that Barsley never

sees the old doc. The girl told us that much. The best thing we can do is let Barsley go his own way. If that

That satisfied the hearers; perhaps that was why Cleeve began to change his own opinion.

"I wish it could wait, though," he snapped, "until we've heard from the girl. She ought to be getting word

through any time. Maybe it would be better if we dropped in on Barsley first, If he sees this" Cleeve pulled

Cleeve turned toward the window to flick cigar ashes over the sill. His coat was still drawn back; Hawkeye

saw a badge beneath the knuckles that held the lapel. The little spotter recognized the emblem. It was the

A light dawned on Hawkeye. He began to piece a story; his conclusions were very close to the statements that

Diane Delban had made to Clyde Burke. Somewhere in New Jersey was a man named Doctor Borth; he had

received funds that Kirk Barsley had shoved through. The trouble was that Cleeve and these other Feds were

Hawkeye saw the complications that Cardona's entry might produce, with Cleeve waiting to crack down on

Borth. Hawkeye's own idea was that Cleeve's second opinion was the better one to scare Barsley out of

There were snatches of conversation that Hawkeye could still hear. Cleeve had walked away from the

window and was out of sight; other voices weren't as plain as his. From the rest that he heard, Hawkeye

There was mention of a mob being around when Barsley showed up at his office. Cleeve came through with

the remark that Cardona might expect a crew on hand, since there had been hoodlums over in New Jersey,

after Barsley had gone there. There was talk about the possibility of Cardona finding counterfeit money in

Cleeve summed up some of that discussion when he happened to come back toward the window.

"We don't care how much Cardona gets on Barsley," declared the tall man. "The more it fits, the better! It

sizes this way: There was a murder over in New Jersey and Cardona knows Barsley was over there, besides

"If he finds Barsley trying to lam, with a mob on hand to cover him, that starts the police after Barsley. If

Cardona uncovers queer money, he'll have that count on Barsley. When they catch up with Barsley, any talk

"Barsley can't lead the police to Borth, so that leaves us clear to handle the proposition our own way. I'm still

THAT was all Hawkeye heard. Cleeve had gone deeper into the room, with the others following. There were

It didn't take Hawkeye long to follow. Once out of the apartment hotel, he hurried to a telephone. He put a

call through to Burbank; but it wasn't to a New York number. Burbank was over in New Jersey, along with

Hawkeye gave his story. Methodically, Burbank told him to stand by. In less than ten minutes, Hawkeye

received a return call, giving instructions. In accordance with those orders, Hawkeye headed for the

He made a discovery as soon as he arrived. The squatty man was back at his post; others of Cleeve's squad

There were times, Hawkeye knew, when Feds had one job to do; the police another. This fitted with such

circumstances. James Cleeve had good reason to move in ahead of Joe Cardona, for Cleeve was after bigger

game than Kirk Barsley. Cleeve was after the man most prominent in all this chain of circumstance a

Whatever the immediate future might produce, Hawkeye was confident that another being of mystery would

THERE was a singular lull along the street outside the old office building; it persisted for the better part of an

hour. Watchers had stepped from sight, and were remaining under cover. Hawkeye saw no more of Cleeve's

men, although he could guess their positions. They, however, had not glimpsed the little spotter at all.

Hawkeye was wise enough not to venture too close to the building. A convenient alleyway, half a block

The break came when a taxi rolled along the stilled street. A passenger poked his head from the window, took

a cautious look and said something to the driver. Alighting, the man paid his fare and the cab pulled away.

The arrival took quick strides into the office building, carrying a small satchel with him. Hawkeye knew that

the man must be Kirk Barsley. As Cleeve had anticipated, Barsley had returned before nine o'clock, the hour

Sight of Barsley had attracted the attention of all watchers. That was why no one, not even Hawkeye,

observed another approach that came when the cab halted. In from the corner moved a shape of blackness,

that became definitely visible when it passed a lighted stretch of pavement halfway to the old office building.

There, gliding silently, was a cloaked figure, outlined against a whitish wall. The Shadow had arrived from

New Jersey; he had lurked out of view until the right moment for his advance. He had timed the move to

perfection, for he was past the lighted stretch at the moment when Barsley walked into the office building.

There was no more signs of The Shadow when Hawkeye and the other watchers gazed along the street.

The ground floor of the building was lighted; but the glow came from the depths of the hallway. Moreover,

Barsley had stepped from sight when he went up that short flight. So did The Shadow. His entry, though, was

somewhat slower, for he eased the door by degrees, so that its opening and closing were unnoticeable.

THOUGH The Shadow had lost ground on Barsley, he regained it on the way up to the third floor. The stairs

He heard Barsley stop at intervals, to listen for sounds from below. On such occasions, The Shadow cut down

When Barsley reached his own office, The Shadow was at the top of the stairs. Peering from semidarkness

beyond a corner of the hall, he saw Barsley unlocking the office door. The man entered, carrying his satchel.

That was when The Shadow performed a move that was as swift as it was silent. Quick, sweeping strides

brought him to the door before it had fully closed. His left hand had peeled the thin black glove from his

The Shadow eased the door slightly inward, gathering his glove with his right hand as he controlled the knob

with his left. He was peering through a tiny crack when he heard Barsley stumble against a desk. There, the

As the light came on, Barsley emitted a startled hiss; with good reason. He wasn't alone in his own office.

Seated at the desk was a blockyfaced man whose eyes were cold beneath their heavy brows.

The Shadow recognized that visitor from Hawkeye's description. The man at the desk was James Cleeve.

The glow that showed Cleeve's face revealed Barsley's, also. Kirk Barsley was tall, stoopshouldered,

somewhat crablike in his crouch. His face was long, its cheeks hollow. The man had a sickly whiteness; but

his restless eyes were shrewd. His lips, too, declared that Barsley could be crafty. They pursed into an odd

"Rather curious," spoke Barsley, in a croakish tone, "finding a stranger in this office. I didn't know that I had

"You didn't," returned Cleeve, bluntly. "The janitor unlocked the door for me, when I showed him this."

Cleeve pulled back his coat lapel. Barsley saw the visitor's government badge. For a moment, Barsley

fidgeted; then looked relieved. He planked the satchel on the desk; poked his hands into his trousers pockets

"MY name is Cleeve," informed the visitor. He produced a wallet and pointed to an identification card that

bore his photograph. "I just dropped in to ask you a few questions, Mr. Barsley. They pertain to the jewelry

Barsley thrust out his lower lip, as if to stifle a smile. He spoke dryly when he replied:

"Just where do you buy goods wholesale?" queried Cleeve. "We haven't been able to learn that, Barsley.

You're something of a mystery along Maiden Lane. Some of the wholesalers down there seem to doubt that

Barsley smilingly produced a black book from his pocket. He spread the pages in front of Cleeve's eyes.

"All outoftown purchases," he explained. "I do all my business in the midwest. Suppose you check with

Barsley gave a sly look when he spoke. The Shadow noted it, although Cleeve did not. It was obvious to The

"I shall be in town a few days," added Barsley. "I always use this office when I am in from the road. After

you have communicated with these concerns" he pointed to the book "drop back and see me again, Mr.

Cleeve nodded, as he copied some of the data on a sheet of paper. He arose and put the paper in his pocket.

The satchel contained some blank check books; a few bundles of receipts, with a small number of similar

items. There was a bank deposit book that had some checks and currency tucked between its pages; but the

amount was not large. Barsley demonstrated that, when he fingered the money under Cleeve's eyes. All the

He didn't have enough cash with him to make his enterprise seem large. His limited funds fitted with the fake

list of jewelry sales that he had entered in his little black book. Barsley was posing as a very small dealer,

Cleeve seemed satisfied with Barsley's story. He reached for the bills that the stoopish man had counted, gave

them an examination in the light. Returning them, Cleeve spoke both frankly and apologetically.

"We're looking for 'queer' money," said Cleeve, thumbing his badge. "Counterfeit stuff has been showing up

a lot of places. That's why we've had to check on a lot of chaps in different lines of business. We picked you,

THE SHADOW could see Cleeve's eyes while Barsley was putting back the contents of the satchel. It was

plain that Cleeve knew exactly what the situation was, although he had hidden his thoughts from Barsley.

Whatever his game, whether legitimate or crooked, Barsley handled the collection end. Sooner or later, that

satchel would be stuffed with funds that came from many sources. The Shadow was confident that Barsley

had delivered one bagload of checks and currency somewhere in New Jersey, on Wednesday night.

Since then, the fellow had begun a new series of collections, but had only made small ones to date. That was

why Barsley was pleased because Cleeve had chosen this particular evening to visit him. Barsley didn't care

how many Feds looked into his satchel, while its contents were as slim as they were tonight.

One thing was evident, however, from Barsley's manner. The fellow tried to hide it, but didn't succeed. That

was the fact that Barsley did not intend to return to this office again. He was very anxious to leave, and his

Cleeve stalked about the office a few minutes, remarking that he would like to look around a bit, just as a

matter of routine. He opened a door, stared into an empty closet. There was a shelf above the level of

Rising on his toes, Cleeve took enough of a look to satisfy himself. He turned about; gestured a goodby to

That was The Shadow's cue to ease away. His hand let the latch catch silently. The Shadow was merged with

the gloom of a doorway farther along the hall when Cleeve came out. Watching Cleeve head toward the

It was good strategy on Cleeve's part starting Barsley off for parts unknown, keeping things so that Borth

would think himself secure. But there was just one hitch to the proceeding; it became apparent after Cleeve

Barsley didn't come out of the office; instead, he remained behind the closed door.

After a few minutes, The Shadow approached to listen. This time, the door was latched; but with his ear close

The fellow was making a telephone call. All that The Shadow heard was his final statement:

"All right... Yes, fifteen minutes, since you can't get here sooner. Wait for me out front.

The receiver clicked on its hook. The Shadow heard Barsley sneaking toward the door. The cloaked listener

was out of sight again when Barsley peered toward the stairs, to make sure Cleeve wasn't around. Ducking

MINUTE by minute, the time ticked off; closer and closer came the scheduled moment when Cardona would

appear. The approach of nine o'clock was injuring the calculations of both Cleeve and Barsley.

Cleeve hadn't figured that Barsley would linger; Barsley, in his turn, didn't suspect that Cardona was due. It

was a slowmotion race against time, with a chance that Barsley might beat the dead line; for his quarter hour

The Shadow timed Barsley's actions almost to the dot. It was just four minutes of nine when the door of the

office opened and Barsley stepped out into the hall. He was carrying the satchel; he tried to appear

That was proof that Barsley thought he was being covered by Cleeve alone. He was putting on an indifferent

pose that he thought would satisfy any watchful Feds that Cleeve might have stationed downstairs.

Again, The Shadow followed Barsley. This time, the man showed none of his hesitating tactics on the stairs.

His confidence seemed to increase, judging by his footsteps. The Shadow closed the gap; he was almost on

Because of the light in the lower hall, The Shadow waited on the last steps, watching from gloom until

Just as Barsley pulled the door inward, a man stepped through to block him. Barsley went back against the

wall, the satchel dangling from his fist as he faced a stocky challenger. Again, Barsley was treated to the sight

Joe Cardona had arrived in time to halt Barsley's flight. New questions were due for Kirk Barsley ones that

he couldn't answer as easily as Cleeve's. Cardona was here to get present results, not future ones.

The showdown between Joe Cardona and Kirk Barsley was to have a silent witness in the person of The

Cardona gruffed the sharp question promptly enough to hold Barsley speechless. The stoopish man finally

"I've got a few questions to ask you," Cardona growled. "I'm taking you down to headquarters."

Barsley started a feeble protest. He muttered something about false arrest; the indignity of a ride in a patrol

"We'll ride in your own car, Barsley," said the inspector. "It's on the way over from the garage. With a

"Not exactly," returned Cardona. "We stopped there on the way over. Just when you happened to call up and

ask for the car to be sent here. I came ahead, while the boys stayed to look through the car."

"Any evidence they might find, to prove that you drove over to New Jersey on Wednesday night!"

That worded jab hit Barsley hard. The fellow actually wilted. Cardona clamped a fist on Barsley's right arm;

As if timed to Cardona's gaze, a car pulled up at the curb. Cardona recognized Barsley's sedan; he saw the

With that growl, Cardona twisted Barsley toward the door. It was a bad move, for it placed Joe between

Barsley and the watchful figure of The Shadow. Moreover, The Shadow had no time to shift his own

position; for the move that Barsley made was a sudden one that didn't start until he was beyond Cardona.

As Cardona's free hand yanked the door inward, Barsley tugged away, took a long swing with his left arm. In

Cardona made a quick parry. The satchel had a momentum, however, that Cardona didn't calculate. The bag

Cardona staggered, losing his grip on Barsley. The prisoner did an immediate dive down the short steps to the

There was a scuffle when Barsley met the incoming detective; but it didn't last long. Barsley's sudden bolt

Barsley made another swing with the satchel; when the dick ducked to draw a revolver, Barsley beat him to

that move. Cardona from the doorway, the dick in the entry were both menaced by the brandish of Barsley's

It was lucky for Barsley that he didn't stop to fire. He never could have dropped either of his two opponents.

Cardona was pitched suddenly aside, as a blackcloaked form swished past him. The gawking detective was

BARSLEY didn't wait for combat. He fled at the instant of The Shadow's surge. Long bounds took him to his

own sedan, which had been parked just past the building. Barsley's angled flight took him temporarily from

The driver from the garage saw Barsley coming; knew that the waving revolver could mean business. The

fellow dived through the door on the street side, letting Barsley gain the driver's seat.

The Shadow stopped before he reached the sidewalk. From a corner of the building entrance, he trained his

.45 deliberately upon Barsley's car, which the fugitive was frantically trying to start. With a single bullet, The

Shadow could have permanently halted Barsley's flight; but he lost the chance before he used it.

Cardona and the detective supplied the untimely intervention; their blunder helped Barsley instead of

handicapping him. Together, they piled past The Shadow, trying to overtake Barsley. They reached the

running board of the sedan, putting themselves squarely in The Shadow's path of fire.

Since they wanted to capture Barsley, The Shadow lowered his gun. But neither Cardona nor his sidekick

Barsley threw in the clutch just as they tried to board the car. The sedan whipped away; Cardona and the

detective sprawled along the curb. First on his feet, Cardona shouted to the driver of a parked taxi. The cab

There were other cars coming along the street. Just as The Shadow saw the first of them, a revolver spurted

from an alleyway. The Shadow recognized the signal instantly. It came from Hawkeye. The spotter had seen

Cleeve and his squad go away; they had departed too early to witness the arrival of another group.

There were mobbies in the rakish touring car that was now coming into view. They had seen the start of

Barsley's flight; also the pursuit that Cardona was about to stage. Their purpose was to cover Barsley's

Hawkeye's hurried shot did no damage; it came when the touring car had passed him. It served well,

The Shadow did not wait for the thugs to declare themselves; he had them labeled when he heard Hawkeye's

signal. Sweeping both hands into action, The Shadow stepped from his doorway and blazed shots into the

The machine gun didn't begin its crackle. A crippled driver let the touring car slither to the curb. Hoodlums

heard the sudden mockery of The Shadow's laugh, challenging from the spot where his big guns had mouthed

their deadly hail. Abandoning their car, they dived for the street and went staggering for doorways.

The Shadow reached the wheel of the touring car, beckoning as he went. Hawkeye came sidling from cover

and jumped into the back seat. Barsley had rounded the corner and was off to a good head start; but Cardona's

The Shadow was entering the pursuit. He expected more trouble ahead; and it came within the second block.

Cardona's cabby had spotted Barsley's car taking another corner. The cab swung to follow; there was a

sudden shriek of brakes. Another crookmanned car was bowling in to block the chase. The cab skidded,

AGAIN, The Shadow drove in with needed rescue. There was one element of luck; these thugs were using

revolvers instead of a machine gun. That break was all The Shadow needed to stem their attack.

His left hand used an automatic to tongue a withering volley, while his right managed the steering wheel. The

Crooks were sagging before they could pick off Cardona and the detective. The driver of the thugmanned

car wheeled from the scene of battle. The chase had changed. The Shadow was speeding after this new crew

that had cut in to cover Barsley's flight, and the band that he pursued was crippled.

Cardona's cab was out of the chase; but another car had taken its place. Hawkeye recognized it, when he

Though he had left the neighborhood when the first mob car appeared, Cleeve must have heard the distant

shooting and recognized its cause. He had hurried for the scene, hoping to be of use.

Hawkeye gave that information to The Shadow, as they rounded a corner. The news meant very little, for

In fact, the chase itself was proving fruitless; for within a few blocks, The Shadow recognized that Barsley

had cut off in one direction, while the thugs were taking another. Failing in their coverup job, they were at

The Shadow's chance to overtake Barsley was lost. He concentrated upon running down the carload of

That also proved difficult. Choosing their own route, the crooks led The Shadow into a maze of streets near

the river. Their driver knew those thoroughfares well. He made a series of twisty turns, gaining sufficient

Passing one turn, The Shadow ran into a deadend street, where he was forced to back his car and turn

Cleeve's car missed the turn entirely, it sped past the outlet of the blind alley, chasing after nothing. The

As he stopped his car to look along side alleys, he ordered Hawkeye to go out to the street and watch for any

sign of the missing car. If the mobsters were still twisting in and out the mazy streets, there was a likelihood

In the interval that followed, Hawkeye decided that the chase was finished. He saw no traffic on the street; he

turned about to rejoin The Shadow. Just then, there came a warning roar; a new car rocketed into sight,

Instinctively, Hawkeye guessed the answer. Somehow, crooks had learned where The Shadow had stopped.

This crew of hoodlums, new entrants in the turmoil, had headed in to trap The Shadow.

HAWKEYE got off a warning shot; then ducked beyond a stack of ash cans. The murder car occupants never

They roared in upon it, opened fire with a machine gun that completely riddled the old touring car. Backing

There wasn't any use for Hawkeye to fire after them. His only hope was that The Shadow might still be alive.

Hawkeye dashed in to look for his chief before police arrived. He reached the inner end of the alley, stared

Staring blankly, Hawkeye suddenly noticed the wall behind the touring car. The facts dawned upon him. The

Shadow had heard the warning shot; had recognized its import. With his own position spotted, The Shadow

had chosen a new one, with remarkable speed. He had left the touring car and scaled the wall before the

Scurrying away through a side alley, Hawkeye chuckled at the thought that the doubled trail had failed.

Where The Shadow had gone and what his purpose would be, were questions that Hawkeye could not

Tonight's episode had brought new facts to The Shadow. Enough for him to let others handle events

elsewhere, while he remained in New York. Though many details of crime would require later investigation,

Crooks, themselves, had flashed their message without realizing it. The Shadow would be prepared for moves

CONTRASTED to the swift events in Manhattan, time was passing very slowly in the buried cell where

Clyde Burke lay prisoner. Night and day had passed; sleep had been Clyde's only solace in the

pitchdarkness of the underground prison, except when Yakbar had entered to bring him meals.

Yakbar's appearance told Clyde why Diane had not come to aid him. The Turk had taken over the duty of

watching the prison cell. Until Yakbar was relieved, nothing could be done. Clyde remembered that Diane

had described, the Turk as the one man who was utterly controlled by Doctor Nicholas Borth.

Clyde's luminousdialed wrist watch showed ten o'clock. That hour meant no more than all the others that

It meant that a key was in the lock; for Clyde had heard the sound before: when Yakbar brought the meals.

This time, however, the scrape was cautious. Moreover, there was no reason why Yakbar should arrive at this

A surge of hope swept Clyde. The interval before the door opened seemed longer than some of the wasted

hours that he had recently experienced. When the barrier swung, Clyde saw the glow of a flashlight; it

The girl was not alone. With her was one of Borth's servants, who had been in the group that Clyde had

battled the night before. He had a yellowish face, with flattish nose and puffy brows and lips. Clyde

Diane had done well in choosing this fellow as an aid. He was the sort that Doctor Borth would least suspect

Diane beckoned. Clyde came from the darkened cell. The girl told the servant to lock the door and remain on

watch. She started along the passage, whispering for Clyde to follow. They threaded twisty corridors; came to

There, Diane found the hidden switch. The wall slid back; the girl's flashlight showed a stone stairway that

Once past the barrier, they were free to talk. Clyde questioned Diane about the scarchinned servant. She

assured him that the man would prove dependable. He was one of a few who had become discontented in

Borth's service; he had listened to Diane's offer of reward if he joined her cause.

ALL the while, Clyde and Diane were following a narrow tunnel that was hewn through rocky soil. Unlike

Borth's underground headquarters, this passage had no concrete reinforcement. Workers had chiseled it

At times, the passage almost doubled on itself. In his talk with Diane, Clyde lost his sense of direction.

That did not seem important, as the passage had no side passages wherein a person might lose his way.

They came to the end of the passage. Rough steps, nothing more than chunks of stone, led upward to a

"That is the outlet," she told Clyde "the emergency exit that Doctor Borth provided in case of invasion.

After you are outside, you must remember its location and find your way from there. When you return with

the government men, you can bring them through this passage. Doctor Borth will never expect a raid from

Diane lowered the flashlight. Paper crinkled as she gave Clyde an envelope. It was blank and unsealed, but

"Take this to James Cleeve," ordered the girl. "You will find him at the Brayland Apartments, in New York

City. This message will be the only introduction that you need. I have written it in the special code that he

Diane's hand held Clyde's arm. The flashlight's glow showed her eyes, large in their earnest expression. Her

"You can depend on me, Diane!" returned Clyde. "I haven't forgotten our bargain. I'll see Cleeve before I go

to the office, or visit the police. This is a job for the Feds. I'll stay with them."

Diane smiled her confidence. She gave Clyde the flashlight; he held it toward the steps, while Diane found a

lever. The stone slab moved; Clyde crept through, keeping his light close to the ground.

He crouched in a tangle of bushes, while Diane slid the slab shut from within the passage. Turning with the

flashlight, Clyde caught a last glimpse of the girl's face; just before the slab went tightly shut.

THE thought that gripped Clyde was one of prompt action. Here, in the clear outside air, it was his task to

make for New York with as much speed as possible. For the first time, he also realized the necessity of taking

Like the stone slab in the ground, Clyde was shielded by a cluster of bushes on a steep hillside. Branches

formed a slanting screen that ran to an overhanging ledge. This spot, nestled in the midst of a thicket, was a

In fact, Clyde found difficulty in getting out of it. Brambles gripped him as he wrenched through, to reach the

Dull moonlight showed the bushes. They formed a perfect coverage, like a scraggly layer following the slope

to the jutting ledge. Nothing betrayed the hollow that lay within the brambles. The camouflage was another

The hillside was rocky and blackened with patches of trees, through which the moonlight trickled. Clyde

chose a downward course into the valley, keeping his route as straight as possible. He noted conspicuous

Two hundred yards brought him to an old road; there, his flashlight fell upon two battered posts that had once

been a gateway. They made an excellent marker for future reference. Clyde followed the old road, still

In the dark, Clyde tabbed his calculations on a sheet of paper, using his fountain pen that held the fading ink

used by all The Shadow's agents. He folded the paper and tucked it in the envelope that Diane had given him.

Striding along the paved road, he saw a highway marker. Its number told him the most important fact of all.

Clyde was in New Jersey, within fifty miles of New York City. This valley lay between the two ranges of

rugged hills known as the Watchung Mountains. Again, Clyde was forced to admire the craft of Doctor

Borth. No one who wanted isolation could have chosen a better district than the Watchungs.

Only one good road tapped the valley, and it was not much traveled. Often, Clyde recalled, fugitive criminals

had fled to the Watchungs, where it had been difficult to track them down. Borth had gone such crooks one

Borth's stronghold was an impregnable underground castle, tucked in a veritable wilderness, yet within an

There wouldn't be much trouble retracing the path to the secret exit. Clyde had valuable information; his job

was to cover the few miles that would bring him to civilization, then hurry into New York.

CLYDE was speculating on that prospect when he heard a thrumm behind him. He didn't have time to duck

Clyde faced the car boldly, as it stopped. He expected Yakbar to pop out and challenge him; for Clyde feared

suddenly that his escape had been discovered. Instead, Clyde heard a voice he recognized.

Two seconds later, he was aboard the halted car, shaking hands with the cleancut driver who sat behind the

The man in the car was Harry Vincent, another of The Shadow's agents. The chance meeting marked the end

It didn't take Clyde long to tell his story. For a finish, he produced Diane's envelope. Clyde brought out the

Harry turned on the domelight. Clyde opened the paper. To his puzzlement, it was already blank. Clyde

The barrel was broken; the ink had trickled out. That must have happened twentyfour hours ago, during his

struggle with Yakbar and the others. Clyde hadn't learned it because the ink had dried on his clothes and then

Harry's voice came quietly: "Give me the details from memory. I'll put them down."

Clyde complied. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought he had them right. Harry made two copies in pencil;

gave one to Clyde. He asked to see Diane's note. Clyde produced it; the message was in code, as Diane had

Harry turned the car around and headed back for the dirt road that Clyde had mentioned. As they rode along,

"You take the car, Clyde," he said, "and drive into New York. You won't run into any trouble. I've been over

these roads this evening and they're all clear. Carry the note with you. Stop at No. 27 after you're through the

By No. 27, Harry referred to a small eating place that specialized in fish and chips. It was just the spot where

The Shadow could send Hawkeye, or a taxi driver named Moe Shrevnitz, to contact Clyde. Both of those

"All right," agreed Clyde. "It will take me nearly an hour to get in there; and I'll be a half hour longer, getting

coffee and chips. Only, you'll have to contact Burbank; and with my taking the car, you'll be handicapped."

"I'll use shortwave radio," explained Harry. "The set's in the rumble seat. I'll keep it with me. Burbank can

They had reached the old road. Harry drove as far as the ancient gateposts, to clock the distance. He headed

the car around; then alighted and removed his radio equipment. Just as Clyde was ready to drive away, Harry

Clyde studied the paper that listed his later bearings. After a short calculation, he replied:

"Northeast into the mountain side. But it isn't important. There's no turnoff in the tunnel."

Though Clyde didn't realize it, he had made a very bad guess as to the direction. He didn't think that it would

cause any complication; but that, in turn, was another bad surmise. Clyde's mistaken statement was to cause

As soon as Clyde had driven away, Harry lugged his shortwave set a short distance up the hillside.

Choosing a rocky spot, he set up the equipment. The job was so brief that an idea struck Harry. There was

Time enough to check on some of those distances that Clyde had recited from memory. With that plan in

mind, Harry shoved his radio set beneath a scrubby bush and went back to the gateposts. From there, he

Everything checked as Clyde had given it. Harry reached the thick brambles beneath the ledge. He didn't look

for the slab beneath the bushes; that would have been unwise. Harry decided to go down to the slope and send

He thought, though, that he could find a better path if he moved along the slope. Wisely, Harry took a

westerly direction, because Clyde had said the tunnel went northeast. Because of that course, Harry thought

that he was going away from Borth's underground headquarters. That was why Harry felt both secure and

A little higher on the hill loomed the squatty bulk of a deserted building. Harry approached; used his

flashlight to see that the place was an abandoned hunting lodge. Harry noted a wide veranda skirting the

High steps led up to the front door, which was crudely locked and badly battered. Windows were boarded,

Climbing the steps, Harry tested the padlock. When he tugged it, the hasp came from rotted wood. The door

This abandoned lodge could prove highly useful, Harry decided; that was why he chose to investigate it. He

pictured The Shadow's coming campaign against Doctor Borth; realized that a squad of agents, or Feds, could

The main room of the lodge had a fireplace with a broad stone hearth. Harry studied it, then turned the

flashlight around the big room. The glow of his torch still gave a view of the flat hearth; but Harry wasn't

Slowly, noiselessly, the hearth came upward on a hinge. Out from the depths peered a tawny face: the

Harry Vincent had found more than he supposed. Clyde had claimed that the exit tunnel burrowed northeast.

Instead, it ran northwest. This hunting lodge was directly over Doctor Borth's underground castle. It served as

Some signal had flashed below when Harry tampered with the broken door. Yakbar was on the job; and the

Turk's moves were as calculating as ever. He showed no haste that would betray him; instead; he emerged

IT was chance alone that told Harry of Yakbar's arrival. Turning toward the fireplace, Harry saw the rising

Turk. The powerful wrestler sprang from the top step; made a grab for Harry's arm before The Shadow's

For a quarter minute, the struggle was a fierce, evenly matched one. Then, from the depths, came another pair

Despite the odds, Harry was on the point of breaking loose, until Yakbar, freed from the grapple, produced

The Turk jabbed the hypodermic into Harry's arm; then added his own weight to the struggle. Three against

one, plus the dosage prepared by Doctor Borth, were odds that could not be offset. Harry's fight slowed

Yakbar and the others carried Harry below. The stone slab lowered into place to show the barren hearth.

Doctor Borth had lost one prisoner, an agent of The Shadow, only to gain another!

THE sequel to Harry's capture came when Clyde reached No. 27, after an uneventful drive into New York.

Seated at a corner table in the fish and chip establishment, Clyde kept watch upon the doorway while he

It did not occur to Clyde that Harry had encountered trouble, for Harry had said nothing about making a

closer approach to Doctor Borth's preserve. Reasoning things over, it struck Clyde that the lack of contact

was simply a token that he should go through with the mission that he had promised Diane.

The girl had stated that James Cleeve was the head of a squad of government agents, secretly operating in

New York. Clyde had passed that information to Harry. Under such circumstances, Diane's message could be

classed as a report from one government operative to a superior; and its main purpose was to properly

introduce Clyde to Cleeve. There would be no reason for The Shadow to intercept a bona fide message of that

From that, Clyde drew the obvious conclusion that The Shadow expected him to visit Cleeve and make a

later report. Finishing a second cup of coffee, Clyde left No. 27 and took the wheel of Harry's coupe.

Driving uptown, Clyde decided to leave the car in its usual garage and take a cab from there. He did so, and

Alighting at the Brayland Apartments, Clyde entered and inquired for James Cleeve. The clerk called the

apartment; after a short conversation, be received word that Mr. Burke was to go up to the fifth floor.

As he entered the elevator, Clyde happened to glance through the door to the street. He thought he saw a man

slide out of sight; but he decided that his guess was wrong. Clyde had looked over the front of the building

when he arrived, and had seen no prowlers at that time. He figured that he had simply caught a glimpse of

When he reached Cleeve's apartment, Clyde saw a peering eye through, the crack of the partly opened door.

He must have passed inspection, for the door swung inward promptly. Clyde stepped into the living room, to

There was no difficulty in recognizing James Cleeve. The tall man's square face and steady eyes marked him

"So you are a reporter from the Classic." Cleeve's tone carried as sharp a stab as his eyes. "Perhaps you might

tell me, Mr. Burke, just why you wish to interview me. It is rather unusual" Cleeve's smile showed an

indulgence "for a newspaper to be interested in the activities of a group of salesmen. Particularly one like

"I'm not after a story," explained Clyde, "I have a message for you, Mr, Cleeve."

He produced Diane's note. Cleeve read it; Clyde saw keen eyes light beneath their heavy brows, Cleeve's

"It's all right, men," he told them. "Burke knows we're Feds. He's seen the Delban girl."

Cleeve drew back his coat, to flash his badge. He waved Clyde to a chair. There was something more

"Where did you come from?" he queried. "How far away is the hideout? Can you lead us back there?"

He picked up pencil and paper, traced the complete route to Borth's. Cleeve's eyes gleamed, particularly when

he learned that the goal was less than forty miles distant. He glanced eagerly at his watch; noted that it was

"I'd like to have started tonight," he said, "but it won't do. It's pretty isolated territory out there; Borth might

have lookouts posted. We could sneak in there early in the evening; but after midnight would be a bad time.

That decision pleased Clyde. It offered a chance for contact with The Shadow. Rising from his chair, Clyde

"Wait a minute, Burke," laughed Cleeve, clapping a friendly hand upon Clyde's shoulder. "Where do you

"To the Classic office. I want to find out if Doctor Borth sent that telegram he made me write."

Cleeve stood reflectively, as Clyde started for the door. A complication occurred to him; again he motioned

"You can't let this story out, Burke," warned Cleeve. "That's for your own benefit, as well as mine, since

"Good enough! There's another angle, though. Tonight, we traced a fellow named Barsley, who works for

Borth. We figure he's the collector who chucked that bag of cash over in Jersey, for Yakbar to pick up."

"Right!" Cleeve's tone was grim. "There was a crew covering up for him tonight, too; only we didn't know it

CLYDE was hearing interesting details. He wanted more; Cleeve decided to give them. He explained his

purpose of letting Barsley get away to avoid capture and questioning by Joe Cardona.

Clyde saw the wisdom of Cleeve's policy, since it kept Borth uninformed that the trail was coming closer.

"Barsley gave the jewelselling stall," stated Cleeve, "and I pretended to fall for it. The trouble was, Cardona

must have shown up when Barsley was on the way out. I heard the shooting, but I took up the trail too late.

The way things turned out" Cleeve's tone was rueful "I wish I'd grabbed Barsley when I had him.

"Here's the bad point, Burke." Cleeve's headshake was serious. "If that crew spotted me following them, they

may have tracked me back here. Normally, they'd lay off Feds quicker than they would cops; but maybe

Barsley didn't have a chance to tell them I was a Fed. So we're playing our cards close.

"We can't afford a runin with a bunch of hoodlums while we're after bigger game. The information you've

Stepping past Clyde, Cleeve placed his hand on the doorknob. When he beckoned, he indicated his own men

"I'm sending these boys downstairs with you," said Cleeve. "You wait in the lobby while they take a stroll

around the block. Don't start until they come back with the word that everything's clear, And remember

WHEN Clyde reached the lobby, he had time for speculation while his two companions went out on patrol.

It was nearly ten minutes before the pair returned; each had circled the block in an opposite direction. One of

them gave Clyde the route to the nearest subway station, four blocks distant. Methodically, the other reported

to Cleeve on the house phone. The result was a nod for Clyde to start his journey.

A chance recollection struck Clyde after he was outside; something that he had forgotten to mention to

Cleeve. He remembered the shuffler who had gone past the front door at the time of his arrival. He wondered

Scanning the street, Clyde saw no sign of suspicious persons. Even the cars that were parked along the street

Nevertheless, Clyde could not shake off the peculiar strain that gripped him. Easing his footsteps as he neared

a corner, he sensed a sound behind him. He had the distinct impression that some one was following, ready to

Without looking back, Clyde increased his pace. He made quick strides across the next street. On the far side,

That was when he glimpsed a figure that shrank back from sight a hunched, furtive man whose face Clyde

could not see. The glimpse, though, provided another link. The hunchy man reminded Clyde of Hawkeye.

Whether or not it was Hawkeye who had shuffled past the Brayland Apartments, Clyde could not decide. He

felt sure, though, that it was Hawkeye who had picked up his present trail. On that basis, the rest was plain.

Hawkeye wanted to contact Clyde; therefore, he had slid up closer in the darkness. Clyde's sudden

quickening of pace had defeated Hawkeye's effort to reach him. The result put Clyde on one side of the street,

Clyde expected Hawkeye to cross and join him. Instead, the hunchy little man shifted away, going back along

the street that he and Clyde had followed. That puzzled Clyde. It made him miss the idea entirely.

Assuming that the hunched man was actually Hawkeye, his departure was obviously intended to make Clyde

continue along his route, probably to a meeting with The Shadow, farther on. But Clyde jumped to another

conclusion. He decided that the shifty follower wasn't Hawkeye. So Clyde stood on the corner, straining his

The policy was a bad one, as Clyde was soon to learn. He was losing valuable minutes that he should have

spent in continuing along his walk to the subway. When Clyde did turn to resume his way, he was one block

short of the position that he should have reached. Others were to take advantage of that fact.

Just as Clyde started away, a touring car wheeled up to the corner and made the turn. The car was moving

rapidly; but its speed changed when its driver saw Clyde. Brakes gave a sudden shriek; the automobile staged

Men in black were acting with the same promptness as the driver. The door was open; they were piling to the

There wasn't a chance for Clyde to dodge them. No doorways were handy along the street. Before Clyde

could budge, a pair of thugs had him between them. Revolvers were prodding his ribs. An ugly growl buzzed

CLYDE hesitated. He knew what the ride would mean: a oneway ticket with no return. He chewed his lips

as he realized how he had dodged Hawkeye, back in the other block; Hawkeye, who wanted him either to

That was something Hawkeye had figured Clyde wouldn't do. That was why Hawkeye hadn't waited to

The jab of a gun reminded Clyde that he could stall no longer. It told him also that his present spot was a bad

one. This street was lonely; a muffled shot wouldn't be heard far. It would be easy for these thugs to shoot

him, then haul him into the touring car, if Clyde refused to go of his own will.

In a pinch like this, it was better to take a chance on future luck rather than accept sure trouble for the present.

Mechanically, Clyde nodded. He started toward the touring car, pressed by the guns of his captors.

At the curb, they shoved him roughly aboard. Clyde found himself between the deadly pair; he saw a leering

hoodlum who sat beside the driver; that fellow was looking gleefully into the back seat, also ready with a rod.

Clyde Burke had met up with one of those roving bands of thugs that had earlier been on hand to cover the

Crooks of the sort who had murdered Fred. Killers who would dispose of any person who seemed to know

As the thugmanned car pulled from the curb, Clyde Burke was gripped by the gloomy thought that this ride

THE touring car was headed in the direction that Clyde had been going; but that was small comfort to the

prisoner. Whatever these captors intended, they certainly weren't offering a friendly lift to the subway station.

They were headed for parts unknown, and Clyde was going with them. How long he would remain alive,

By the end of the block, Clyde had a good inkling of what was to come. He knew it from the way the driver

brought the car to a cautious stop, to take a good peer along the avenue before he turned the corner.

That was the usual technique of the oneway ride. Pick up a victim; take him along at an easy pace, so as not

to excite suspicion. Find the spot for murder; give him the works, then dump him. The speed always came

This ride wouldn't be a long one, Clyde guessed. There were plenty of miserable neighborhoods within a mile

or two of this section. The crooks had probably picked the very alleyway that would be a suitable resting

The car turned another corner. Thugs were looking back; their pleased growls assured the driver that there

was no one on the trail. The car threaded along a few more streets; as it passed one corner, Clyde looked to

He gained an instant's elation when he saw a parked car, with its cowl lights glowing; but his enthusiasm was

short lived. Low conversation among the captors proved that they had expected to see that car.

These mobbies were working with a reserve crew. The driver had come past this corner so that the other band

could follow along. To Clyde, that news marked the end of a frail hope that he had nourished. He had counted

Sometimes a surprise stunt like that could work. Not this time. Any such attempt would leave Clyde helpless,

at the mercy of the second crew. As he shifted around, Clyde could see the lights of the trailing car, a block

"Gettin' scary, huh?" The snorted words came from the hoodlum on Clyde's right. "We gotta dose that'll end

The nudge of the crook's revolver muzzle told what the dose would be. Like the others, that killer was simply

awaiting word for murder. He was right, when he said it would be coming soon. The car had reached an

illkept street; from its slow progress, the driver was obviously looking for the proper alley entrance.

The thug on Clyde's left said nothing. He gave a contemptuous glance toward the reporter; then stared to the

left. Like the driver, he was looking for the alley; but all the while, he was keeping his gun hard against

The car took a jounce. There was a thump beside Clyde's right shoulder; a slight thud that Clyde thought

came from the body of the touring car. The man on Clyde's right leaned forward; Clyde thought that he was

There was something odd, though, in the way the fellow's chin settled against Clyde's elbow.

Staring downward, Clyde realized suddenly that the thug was unconscious. Somewhere, out of darkness, a

slugging blow had reached the side of the killer's skull. Before Clyde could fully appreciate what had

INSTANTLY, the situation was plain. Hawkeye had expected Clyde to meet The Shadow at the end of the

block where the touring car had appeared. Clyde's own delay had led to his sudden capture. But when the car

All through this ride, The Shadow had been on the running board on the right side of the car. Crouched there,

he had listened to all that was said. Out of sight of the car that held the other crew of gunmen, The Shadow

had bided his time until the right moment. The opportunity had come. The Shadow had coolly taken one thug

He had a way to deal with the others. The Shadow's whisper told Clyde what to do. Tensely, Clyde restrained

himself. They were at the alley; the car was swinging into it. The mobster beside the driver was looking

The car came to a stop. That was the moment for action. The preliminary move came when The Shadow

released the bobbing thug who was on Clyde's right. The unconscious hoodlum flopped to the floor of the car.

In accord with The Shadow's order, Clyde jerked away from the gun that poked him on the left. As he did, he

grabbed for the muzzle, shoved the crook's hand upward before the fellow could fire.

The move was a complete surprise; for the man on the left didn't know that he alone was covering Clyde. All

he could do was try and stem the reporter's attack; grapple to keep his own gun.

The thug beside the driver heard the scuffle; he swung about to aim, snarling as he came. He never had a

chance to jab his gun muzzle toward Clyde's face. The Shadow was again in action, this time with a long,

Clyde missed that amazing move. The Shadow used his left hand to vault inward. His right fist sweeping

ahead, seemed to haul him with its driving reach. Carrying a huge automatic, the gloved fist sped over the

front crook's head; then came downward. It found the thug's skull in the manner of a grappling hook.

The stroke sank the aiming killer. More than that, it enabled The Shadow to haul himself completely into the

car; for he kept that gun hold once he had gained it. Without a single revealing shot, The Shadow had gained

With a side swing, The Shadow slugged the driver as that thug swungabout. While the fellow was still

settling over the wheel, The Shadow moved in to aid Clyde. The help was necessary; for though Clyde was

still holding his own, he hadn't managed to wrench away the last thug's gun. With The Shadow smashing in,

THE SHADOW'S fist, sledging for the crook's skull, delayed as Clyde twisted partially into its path.

Expertly, The Shadow completed the blow; but it was slowed, and the stroke was a glancing one.

The crook slumped; his revolver hit the floor. That partly deceived The Shadow in the dimness.

Settling in the rear seat, The Shadow fired shots into the upholstery. That was supposed to tell the crooks in

the other car that Clyde had been given a dose of bullets. To complete the illusion, The Shadow opened the

From the mouth of the alley, watchers took the sprawling form for Clyde's body. As the stunned thug fell,

The last crook had recovered, still gripped by Clyde. Like The Shadow, Clyde thought that the fellow was

completely out. He realized his error when the thug managed to clutch the door handle on the left.

The door gave; the crook's weight went outward. Clyde didn't have time to get loose. He went sprawling with

There were excited shouts from the other car. Sight of two more men spilling from the touring car told them

that something had gone sour. There was a clatter of feet as rowdies jumped for the alley. A big spotlight

Crooks saw Clyde, rising from beside the touring car. They knew him for the victim that they wanted. They

aimed, so promptly that Clyde had no chance to get away. All that saved him was the promptness with which

With a strident laugh, The Shadow sprang from the door on the right. His mockery was a compelling

challenge. His cloaked shape, outlined in the spotlight, was a target far more important than Clyde Burke. To

a man, the coverup crew aimed for that weaving figure in black, intending to finish their cloaked enemy

The Shadow had not sprawled into the alley; he had sprung there. He was wheeling as he landed, ready for

double action. He started a sidestep, away from the car; then faded back toward the vehicle itself.

Those shifts were possible, because crooks were changing their aim. The other phase of The Shadow's action

His right hand was already opening fire with its gun. His left was whipping a second automatic from his

cloak. His shots sounded along with the revolver fire of the thugs. Echoing in the alley, the blasts of his big

Thugs dodged to escape those crippling shots. It was lucky for them that The Shadow held Clyde in mind. He

was firing more rapidly than usual, in order to fully divert the enemy. That was why his fusillade clipped only

one of the scattering thugs. They were making for the shelter of their car and the corners of the alleyway.

THE SHADOW was boxed, as he had been before. This alleyway was a clear one, going through to the next

street; but a dash in that direction would be futile. It would do for Clyde; but not for The Shadow. Battle was

Clyde had reached the front of the touring car; The Shadow saw him there. He pointed the reporter through;

hissed a quick command for flight. As Clyde started, The Shadow turned about to meet a new fusillade that

Clyde's reluctance ended when he saw The Shadow's tactics. With his first shot, the cloaked marksman

drilled the spotlight that glared along the alley. With a shout of triumphant mirth, he zigzagged toward the

Thugs were firing at the spurts of The Shadow's guns. He, in turn, was picking the flashes of their revolvers.

But The Shadow was changing position, while they were stationary. That gave The Shadow all the odds.

Dashing through the alley, Clyde could hear the taunt of an evasive, quivering laugh amid the lessening fire.

When he reached the next street, he heard the roar of a motor; as it faded, there was a final gibe of mirth.

Mobsters in the coverup car had fled, leaving the rest of their band to The Shadow. The cloaked fighter's

Clear of the alley, Clyde decided suddenly that he now had an opportunity to return there. Contact with The

Shadow was possible, with the thugs banished. But before Clyde could turn about, he heard the whine of a

Sounds of battle had been heard. The law was approaching, headed for the very street where Clyde stood.

Explanations would be difficult, if Clyde had to give them. He didn't want to spoil The Shadow's victory by

undergoing a police quiz. A lot depended on keeping facts unknown; particularly those that concerned James

Cleeve. Clyde had already guessed that The Shadow must know a lot about those Feds who were quartered at

Taking it on the run, Clyde reached a corner before the police car arrived. He ducked through other streets,

not caring where they led. At last, he reached a spot some distance from his starting point; he saw an avenue,

A trip to the Classic office was out of the question. Clyde decided that as he entered the cab. He didn't know

how to reach The Shadow, for the present; but he realized that there might be a chance to meet up with

That was why Clyde gave an address where he thought Hawkeye might be; and where he felt sure that crooks

ALIGHTING outside of Cleeve's, Clyde paid the driver and looked around for Hawkeye. He thought he

could discern a shifting figure at a distant doorway; but before he could make sure, a man stepped from the

The arrival was one of Cleeve's operatives, the squatty chap who had watched Barsley's office.

"What's up, Burke?" The squatty man spoke in puzzled tone. "How did you get back from the Classic so

"I didn't get there," returned Clyde. "A mob tried to take me for a ride! I got away from them."

The squatty operative whistled. He looked anxiously along the street; then drew Clyde inside. He went to a

Cleeve was waiting when Clyde reached the apartment. His eyes glittered beneath their heavy brows when he

heard Clyde's story. Clyde was hazy when he described the part that The Shadow had played; he spoke as

"One of Barsley's crews got into trouble, earlier," recalled Cleeve. "I guess this mysterious rescuer of yours

was in that, too. I've heard of him The Shadow. He's done good work tonight! I don't think those mobbies

"Still, we're taking no chances. You stay with us, Burke. Tomorrow evening, we'll head for Jersey. If luck's

with us and I think it is those thugs will be thinking about The Shadow, instead of us. That will leave us

Cleeve showed Clyde to an interior room of the large apartment. He smiled when he saw the reporter sag

wearily to a chair. Cleeve dropped his hand on Clyde's shoulder, with the comment:

"You're fagged out, Burke. Turn in and get a good sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow."

Alone, Clyde followed Cleeve's advice. When he had turned the lights out, he opened the window. Standing

there, he stared into the darkened, silent courtyard. Off in a corner, Clyde saw the dim light of another

Moving into the light, Clyde saw a singular silhouette: a hawkish profile, topped by the outline of a slouch

hat. That token remained motionless, then vanished as a hand turned off the light from somewhere within the

Clyde grinned to himself as he stretched on the bed. He didn't have to worry about later contact with The

Shadow. His chief had chosen another apartment, here at the Brayland. Evidently, The Shadow had spotted

Sooner or later, Clyde would have his chance to communicate the facts that he had learned. The Shadow, like

James Cleeve, would be given the trail to the hidden citadel of Doctor Nicholas Borth.

IT was early afternoon when Clyde Burke awakened after a long and muchneeded sleep. The sound that

roused him was an abrupt rap at the door; so sudden that it took Clyde a few moments to grope for a

When he opened the door, Clyde saw the squatty operative who was so frequently with Cleeve. The fellow

had a grin; he held a watch before Clyde's eyes. Clyde blinked when he saw that it was almost two o'clock.

"The chief wants to see you," informed the summoner. "Climb into some duds. He's in the living room."

Clyde watched the squatty man walk along the hallway to the front of the apartment. There, he turned right

Stepping back into his own room, Clyde started to dress; as he did, he remembered the courtyard. He looked

That window looked ordinary by day; so commonplace that Clyde began to think that his imagination had

gripped him last night. His series of bizarre adventures had left him in one of those inbetween states, where

it was difficult to decide whether he had undergone certain experiences or had simply dreamed them.

Of one thing, Clyde was sure. The Shadow had rescued him from death last night. Whether or not The

Shadow was still about was a question. Clyde didn't find any answer when he looked from his window.

That was because the answer lay elsewhere at a spot where Clyde had failed to see it. The hall outside his

room was darkened, for it had only one small window, near the rear. Hence, neither Clyde nor Cleeve's man

Silently, unseen, The Shadow had entered Cleeve's apartment. Stationed at a spot where the hallway widened,

in front of the living room, The Shadow was awaiting his chance to contact Clyde.

The squatty man had left the living room door open. The Shadow approached; peered through the crack to see

Cleeve seated near the window. There was a road map on the table; Cleeve was marking it with a blue pencil

"HERE'S the last crossroad, Felkin" Cleeve turned the pencil over, to use its red end, as he drew a circle

"Except the dirt road," objected Felkin, pointing to the map. "You'd call that a turnoff, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, but it's not on the map. It probably lies about here" Cleeve continued the blue line "and it doesn't

Cleeve chuckled when he heard Felkin's comment. The Shadow watched the keeneyed man lean back into

"It starts us on the way to Borth's," agreed Cleeve. He dotted the end of the blue line. "Figuring this as the old

gatepost, half a mile in from the good road, we won't have far to go up the mountainside. About a quarter

"That's what he said," nodded Felkin. "However, he came from the place; we've got to get to it. Maybe that

"We'll spread out for a starter; then close in. Anyway, we'll have Burke with us."

There was surprise in Felkin's question. Cleeve noted it; gave a simple nod as his reply. He was looking at the

"I know what I told you," interrupted Cleeve. "I figured we'd go without Burke. He'd be willing enough to

stay here, on the promise that we'd let him have an exclusive story after we raided Borth's hideout. That is,

"But after what happened last night, we'd be taking a bad chance, leaving Burke behind. We don't know who

might spot us going out. Anybody might barge in after we've gone. If Burke's with us, we don't have to worry

"After we've passed there," he declared, "we'll have things clinched. "We'll move in on Borth, with our full

force! That will give us big odds, according to the message Burke brought from Diane.

"Doc Borth will be due for a real surprise, especially when he sees Burke with us. That's going to be a swell

THE SHADOW was moving away as he heard the finish of Cleeve's statement. There were footsteps in the

hall; Clyde was coming from his room. The Shadow shifted to block his agent's path. Whatever surprises

In the gloomy hall, Clyde felt a gloved hand grip his arm. He heard the whispered voice, seemingly from

The Shadow had moved deep enough into the hallway to intercept Clyde before he reached the living room.

Neither Cleeve nor Felkin guessed that the reporter was already on his way. But before Clyde could speak,

It meant that another of Cleeve's men was coming through the apartment. Coolly, The Shadow added the

An instant afterward, the gripping clutch was gone. Clyde blinked. He couldn't guess which direction The

Shadow had taken. All that he heard was the approach of heavy footsteps from that side hall. Clyde knew that

The Shadow didn't want him to linger while one of Cleeve's men came through. Promptly, Clyde approached

"Hello, Burke!" greeted Cleeve. Then, to the man beside him: "Close the door, Felkin, while we go over the

"We'll leave here at seventhirty," he added. "That will bring us to the crossroad this red circle by half

There was a pencil by Cleeve's elbow. Unnoticed, Clyde pocketed it. He broke the pencil; its muffled crackle

was unheard. Gripping the stubby point, Clyde wrote on a slip of paper that was in his pocket.

All that he gave were the times that Cleeve had mentioned. They, alone, seemed necessary, for Clyde

The chat ended, Cleeve suggested that they have lunch. They walked from the living room; once in the hall,

Clyde wadded the paper and flipped it from his pocket. Their route led toward the interior of the apartment;

A gloved hand plucked the wadded message from the floor. That was not all, The Shadow had his

opportunity to learn more while he remained here. He entered the living room; studied the map that lay near

The way was open to Clyde's room; The Shadow went there and made a brief search. Finding no other

HALF an hour later, The Shadow was in his sanctum. Clyde's terse message lay on a table beneath a blue

light, along with a road map that duplicated Cleeve's. Beneath the time schedule that Clyde had written was a

The brevity of Clyde's report explained much that The Shadow sought. Since last night, Clyde had known

that The Shadow was at hand. Therefore, the reporter should have been prepared to deliver many facts when

he gained a chance for contact. Instead, these meager items were all that Clyde had given.

Clyde obviously believed that The Shadow was acquainted with all required details, except the actual time

schedule that James Cleeve and his followers intended to use when they invaded Borth's citadel.

There could be only one reason for such supposition on Clyde's part. The reporter must have contacted some

one else in The Shadow's service, between the time that he left Borth's and arrived at Cleeve's. That gave The

Long fingers drew a typewritten sheet into the light. It was a morning report, relayed in from Burbank, in

New Jersey. It told of Harry Vincent's failure to make contact after midnight. During early morning hours,

other agents had been scouring the Jersey hinterlands in search of Harry; but to no avail. Wherever Harry

The only conclusion was the right one. Clyde had met Harry; had given him extensive facts regarding Doctor

Nicholas Borth. Some ill luck had prevented Harry from sending the word through. Clyde, however, had

Cleeve's marked road map was the result. On his own map, The Shadow penciled a blue line, identical with

the one that Cleeve had drawn. He even marked a red circle at the crossroad that Cleeve had designated as the

That done, The Shadow rested his forefinger at the end of the blue line; moved it slowly in a semicircle, to

Somewhere in that limited area lay the secret abode of Doctor Nicholas Borth. A place that Clyde Burke had

left; a sector where Harry Vincent could have ventured. The fact that Clyde had returned safely from his

The Shadow's hand inscribed inked notations, that faded like passing thoughts. Piece by piece, he was fitting

probable facts. When he had completed that survey, he snapped off the bluish light. Absolute darkness filled

the sanctum. The only sound that stirred that blackness was the chilling tone of a laugh that trailed to

The Shadow had departed. He had business in New Jersey before Cleeve and his operatives reached there.

Secretly, alone, The Shadow would penetrate to the hidden citadel where Doctor Borth was master.

WANING afternoon brought gloom to that lonely dirt road along the Watchung mountainside. Storm clouds

on the western horizon had completely blanketed the setting sun. Beneath the thick trees, The Shadow could

This was the end of the bluemarked route. The Shadow had hours in which to investigate. The gloom was to

his liking; it meant that he could search for Borth's hideout without being spotted by any lucky observer.

Driving his car between the ancient posts, The Shadow parked it out of sight. Alighting, he started through

the underbrush, searching as he went. He paused at the spots where trickling daylight aided him. In gloomier

No chance prowler would have found Harry's radio equipment, for it was well buried in a thicket. The

Shadow, however, was looking for such traces of his missing agent, and a broken branch gave him an early

Pressing past the crushed bush, The Shadow uncovered the shortwave apparatus, set up for communication.

Harry Vincent had not been captured at this spot. Borth's men would certainly have dismantled the radio

apparatus and taken it along with them. It was plain that Harry must have decided to investigate the mountain

slope; that he had run into trouble farther up. That meant that he had gone to check on certain details that

Moving upward among the trees, The Shadow took a semicircling route. As before, he was looking for traces

of Harry and he found them: deep prints in the turf, where Harry had gone from one rocky spot to another.

Observing from that spot, The Shadow saw the stony ledge to the right, where the prickly bushes so cleverly

hid the hillside exit. Whether or not that secret opening could have deceived The Shadow was a question that

would remain undecided. Having found Harry's trail, The Shadow followed it instead of tracking back.

By night, The Shadow moved invisibly. Here, in this fading daylight, his figure could be seen. Yet only the

Wearing his black cloak and hat, he moved with spectral glide. Every tree, every bush clump served as a

shrouding cover. Only in the intervening spaces did The Shadow's cloaked shape show its full outline.

Streaked daylight indicated a clearing ahead. On the fringe, The Shadow saw the sprawling hunting lodge

with its boarded windows. He chose a circuit; from the shaded side, he reached the veranda. Once over the

THE cabin door was padlocked. The lock was new; not rusted, like the one that Harry had broken. Judging by

the rusty nails in the boarded windows, The Shadow decided that some one had entered recently; that the

That was another clue to Harry; moreover, it indicated the mistake that the missing agent had made. The

The windows, too, could be fixed. That was why The Shadow chose the roof. Scaling the side posts of the

veranda, he came to the flat top of the lodge. There, he found a broad expanse of weatherbeaten tar paper.

On hands and knees, he crept along the black surface, toward a raised space that proved to be a boarded

Flat on the roof, The Shadow noted other skylights. Like the windows, they might be wired; but The Shadow

doubted it. Any one trying to enter the old lodge would naturally try the windows before going to the roof.

Carefully, The Shadow worked on the skylight beside him. It gave, under noiseless pressure. Raising the flat

barrier on its stout hinges, The Shadow slid his body through. Hanging, he let the skylight settle on his

fingers; then he dropped to the floor beneath. His landing was catlike in its silence.

Using a tiny flashlight, The Shadow searched the ground floor of the lodge. He came to the big living room.

There, the search provided a new clue: a freshly splintered floorboard near the fireplace. That told of a

Boards had warped against the edge of the slab, enough for The Shadow's keen eyes to detect the crack of the

traplike opening. Probing with a thin piece of flat steel, he was rewarded by the slight click of a hidden catch.

Below, The Shadow saw steep steps: wooden strips that were like a ladder, tapering toward the bottom. He

When he reached the bottom, ten feet below, he tested the floor and found it solid stone. The space was

cramped; it had no outlet. The Shadow brought his flashlight into play. The glow showed a solid steel barrier

The metal sheet was set in stone. Probing the edges, The Shadow found a crevice; worked with a long flat

picking instrument to find a catch. That effort failed until he bent the metal strip, wedging it past the edge of

When the catch clicked, it came with a sudden snap. The door slid a fraction of an inch; The Shadow was

Chilled atmosphere greeted The Shadow as he stepped into a dimly lighted passage. He had reached the

upper floor of Borth's airconditioned abode. Sliding the welloiled door shut behind him, The Shadow

started along the very corridors that Clyde Burke had followed, a few nights before.

The doorways, fortunately, were deep. When one opened suddenly, The Shadow had time to press into a

recess that was diagonally opposite. The man who stepped from the open door did not see The Shadow; but

YAKBAR closed the office door and walked stolidly along the corridor. As soon as the Turk had made a

turn, The Shadow followed. He saw Yakbar unlock a door and enter a dulllighted room.

After a few minutes, Yakbar came out again. He returned directly to Borth's office; again, he failed to see The

Once Yakbar had closed the office door, The Shadow approached it. The door was unlocked; its knob yielded

under subtle pressure. In inching fashion, The Shadow worked the door inward, to get the view he wanted. At

"Not yet, master." The Turk's tone was apologetic. "He has awakened; but his stupor is not ended."

"Your mistake was excusable with Burke," he said, testily. "Alone, with a journey ahead, you had need to use

"That may not help. This man Vincent may prove dangerous! He is not a reporter like Burke; whoever he is,

he came here armed. We must learn his business; meanwhile, it would be folly to leave this stronghold. Yet,

There was a stir from the corner of the room. For the first time, The Shadow saw Diane Delban as she

stepped into his range of vision. The Shadow detected a look of alarm on the girl's face; but she suppressed it

"We are still secure," assured Diane. "Denovar tells me that Burke is still quiet in his cell."

"Burke does not matter," snapped Borth. "We can release him when we leave. But this man Vincent" the

doctor's tight fist pounded the desk "may know much more than we suppose! It is unfortunate that he must

Borth looked at the oddly dialed clock upon his desk. After a short calculation, he added:

The Shadow recognized that Borth was working on a twentyfour hour system; that twentyone thirty would

be half past nine. Harry's present status would continue until after the hour set for Cleeve's invasion.

That suited The Shadow's own plans perfectly. It meant that he would not have to make separate plans

Borth arose from the desk; The Shadow heard him say something about a visit to the strongroom. He

watched Borth go to the corner alcove; heard the sound of descending footsteps on the circular stairs.

Intent upon Borth, The Shadow momentarily forgot Yakbar and Diane. As a result, he was forced to an

The Shadow whisked from the doorway, not an instant too soon. Yakbar had approached, coming to the outer

corridor. Deftly, The Shadow managed to close the door gap before Yakbar arrived; but the latch did not

catch. Lacking time to attend to that detail, The Shadow whisked to the gloom of a doorway across the

THE office door puzzled Yakbar. The Turk was positive that he had closed it tightly when he entered, and he

At last, Yakbar shrugged his shoulders and went along the corridor; but he stopped at the first corner, to glare

back in suspicious fashion. From the mutter of his lips, it seemed that the Turk intended to return after he had

That was why The Shadow did not linger. Diane was looking in the direction that Yakbar had taken; her

forehead showed the furrows of a worried frown. Moving from his doorway, The Shadow glided in the

Diane happened to turn as The Shadow went from sight. The glow of the corridor showed a moving

silhouette along the floor; but that streak slid away as Diane stared. Simultaneously, Yakbar came back along

Diane noted the suspicious expression on the Turk's face, but she said nothing. Instead, she stepped back into

The Shadow, meanwhile, had arrived at the steel door. On this side, it had a lever that opened it. Losing no

Through the closing crack, The Shadow saw Yakbar go past the entrance to the final passage. The Shadow

was confident that he had managed an unwitnessed departure. He flicked his flashlight on the steep steps;

Even during that brief climb, The Shadow was concentrating upon tasks that lay ahead; planning a surprise

that would strike before nine o'clock. The Shadow had found his own route into Borth's domain; he could be

Knowing only this one route, The Shadow could foresee difficulties for Cleeve when the latter invaded. The

The Shadow had almost forgotten the present. He was reminded of it, in startling fashion, just as he reached

Something clicked below. Turning his flashlight downward, The Shadow saw a change at the narrowed

bottom of the shaft. The stone floor was sliding back beneath the wall, leaving a bottomless chasm four feet

Had The Shadow been on that spot, he would have had no standing place. His speedy climb up the ladder was

A whispered laugh from The Shadow's lips told that he felt himself secure. The mirth died, however, an

There was another click; it came from the steps themselves. In a flash, every step caved downward, hinging

against the sharply sloping wall to form a solid slide, instead of stairway. The Shadow's flashlight dropped

There was none. The flashlight was going like a plummet into the depths, blazing a course along which The

Shadow followed, straight downward. Arms wide, legs stretched in the darkness, The Shadow was clawing

The light of the tiny flashlight dwindled to a speck, then vanished, leaving no revealing signs of The

Shadow's fall. A sharp click sounded as the steps came back in place; then a slithering rumble added its

That final sound was the floor of the shaft sliding into place. It moaned its echoes to listening ears that heard

it from beyond the steel barrier. That rumble served as testimony that a hapless victim had gone to death

HOURS had passed since The Shadow's thwarted departure from Borth's; hours that had made but little

change. Harry Vincent still lay in a stupor from the overcharge of dope that Yakbar had given him the night

Oddly, thoughts of his agents were the impressions that first strummed through The Shadow's brain, when

consciousness again was his. He sensed that time had passed; that his plans for others might be ruined. His

own plight did not come to him with full force until after he had gathered those scattered details of the past.

He was alive, despite the plunge that he had taken. A seeming impossibility, for he had viewed the depths

awaiting him before he fell. Amazing though some of his past escapes had been, this twist from death was too

The aches that ran through The Shadow's head were terrific, proof in themselves that he had come to a solid

landing place. When he pushed his hand to the back of his head, his fingers dipped oozing blood that stained

Memory of the abyss was too vivid. The Shadow recalled his last glimpse; it had satisfied him that he was

due for a drop of sixty feet at least. No one could plunge that far, undeterred, to land on solid stone without a

Apparently, The Shadow's skull had taken the jar, for his only injury was the one that had stunned him. Yet

Still, he was alive; and badly cramped at that. When The Shadow tried to move about, he found himself

jammed close against a wall. He remembered the flashlight; he began to grope for it, until he realized vaguely

On hands and knees, he probed the stone floor about him, only to find the flashlight missing. That, too, was

curious. Apparently, the metal flashlight had shattered into atoms while its owner remained intact!

One hand struck suddenly upon a ledge close to The Shadow's knees. As his fingers rested there, The Shadow

realized slowly that he was clutching wood. He steadied in the darkness; breathed thick, musty air. He placed

Slowly, thoughts connected themselves. These were not ledges that The Shadow clutched. They were wooden

steps, rising at a sharp angle, like those in the shaft that led up to the fireplace of the abandoned lodge. This

thick darkness, the murky air were the same that The Shadow remembered when he had started his final

Pushing his arms sideways, The Shadow found them cramped by stone walls. Twisting, he found a steel

surface behind him. His lips phrased a laugh that was no more than a repressed whisper, The Shadow had

FALLING, he had flung wide with his arms and legs. He hadn't gotten a grip, going headlong down the shaft;

but his skull had thumped a wall before he reached the open trap at the bottom of the flattened steps. That

Sprawled, The Shadow had wedged into the narrow vortex near the bottom of the tapering shaft. Less than

four feet square, the opening had not been large enough to let his longlimbed body through. An oversight on

the part of Borth, or whoever had devised this trap; but one that had proven most advantageous to The

No wonder he couldn't find his flashlight! It had gone to the depths below, while The Shadow had jammed in

safety. Probably, he had been slowly slipping while he hung suspended; but he had stayed long enough.

The same hand that had opened the trap had closed it, satisfied that The Shadow had rocketed to the pit below

when his wedged form had relaxed, The Shadow had simply settled upon solid surface.

The steps were back again. That was helpful. Scaling a sliding surface would be possible ordinarily; but not

the way The Shadow felt at present. He swayed; lost his grip as he tried to make the climb. Only by resting at

There, The Shadow's fingers fumbled nervelessly with the catch that held the hearth. When it finally released,

Once he rolled upon the wooden floor of the living room, The Shadow was able to relax. The air was better

here. Despite the steady throbbing of his head, he gained strength enough to reach for the skylight. His efforts

faltered, until he found an old table stowed with some other rickety furniture. He managed to negotiate the

MOONLIGHT covered the Watchung mountainside. The storm from the west had drifted; both the hill above

and the valley below were plain in the early evening glow. Night, however, made the whole scene a mass of

trees, bleak sentinels of blackness; except where rocky ledges made shimmery streaks of silver.

Deep draughts of air revived The Shadow. He dropped from the low side, of the roof; instinctively, he sought

the shelter of the woods. Groping through the pitchdarkness under the trees, he stumbled over rocks and

After that, the route was easier. The Shadow paused at intervals to light matches and look for signs of the

Leaving the road, he reached the bushes that hid the shortwave radio. A few minutes later, The Shadow was

The Shadow's first question concerned the time; for he had smashed his watch in the fall. Burbank gave it as

ten minutes after eight. He also reported that Hawkeye had seen Cleeve leave the Brayland Apartments at

Cleeve was on schedule; Clyde was with him. They would reach the crossroad, redmarked on Cleeve's map,

Pounding through The Shadow's mind were recollections of the plans that he had been making when he

started his return trip from Borth's. He had intended to investigate further; to prepare his campaign exactly as

There wasn't time for that. Preparations must be rushed. Afterward, events would snap into line.

To Burbank, The Shadow gave instructions regarding his agents who were scattered in the New Jersey hills.

Marsland, "Tapper," others who had been called to search for Clyde were to converge as ordered. Crofton, a

Never before had The Shadow sent such hectic instructions. Any recipient other than Burbank would have

supposed that they were driftings from a jarred brain. But through the weave of The Shadow's orders,

Burbank saw the connecting threads. He recognized that something must have happened to his chief; but he

BURBANK verified the instructions. The Shadow signed off; gathering up the shortwave set, he made his

way to his car. Jouncing along the dirt road, he hit the paved highway and sped for the crossroad.

State police were absent along that intervening fivemile stretch; and it was fortunate. To The Shadow, the

road seemed a blurred stretch of gray that flowed beneath the wheels of his speeding car. He kept to the wide

The Shadow realized that his brain was swimming; but he maintained the mad pace, relying on sheer instinct

to keep him on the highway. He was clocking the speedometer with kaleidoscopic glimpses, that told him

when he neared the crossroad. There, The Shadow applied the brakes; took a wide veer to the left.

Even that calculation was a vague one. The right wheels of the car jounced heavily as they struck the edge of

the road. Bringing the machine under control, The Shadow zigzagged for thirty yards. Picking an opening

The car crackled through the underbrush; its tires settled in the mud of a tiny gully. Turning off the lights,

He was ahead of schedule; he could afford these few steadying minutes. The night was still; but The

Shadow's ears were hearing the shriek of swift air, as a recollection of his speedy ride.

As that illusion faded, the croak of crickets came from the woods, as if timed to the racking throbs that still

Alighting from the car, The Shadow made his way back toward the crossroad. At moments he listened,

hoping for sounds other than the drilling cricket tones. At last they came the purrs of approaching motors.

Close to the crossing, The Shadow stepped from the road. He was blended with trees and underbrush when

The procession was Cleeve's; three cars in all. Cleeve was in the first one; when the motors stopped, The

Shadow could hear the leader's words, addressed to the occupants of his own car.

"It looks clear here," spoke Cleeve. "Well, we've reached the jumping off place. Let's go ahead!"

The Shadow heard an objection, voiced by Clyde Burke: "Maybe somebody's trailed us from New York."

"We'll see about that," interposed Cleeve. He gave a low whistle, that brought a figure from the rear car.

Felkin's reply was in the negative. Cleeve decided to proceed. Starters grated; motors hummed. The cars

headed for Borth's. From his hiding spot, The Shadow heard the motors die in the distance.

There was a whispered laugh from the hiding spot low, steady, a sign that The Shadow's rest had brought a

further restoration of his strength. That mirth betokened knowledge of the future. Despite Cleeve's assurance

His ears again keyed to their full ability, The Shadow caught the tones of new motors, coming from the east.

The first car to arrive was a coupe that The Shadow recognized as the one taken from Clyde Burke on the

The second was an old sedan, the third a lowbuilt touring car. Both of those automobiles were geared for

They were thugs, the survivors of previous battles, gathered for this last expedition. The pair that had been

hiding out in New Jersey with Clyde's coupe as a trophy, were leaders of the outfit. They were the men who

"This is where we cover, see?" The speaker was within a dozen feet of The Shadow. "We're waiting half an

hour, just in case The Shadow or any other smart guys show up here! Then we're moving in. We know

A sharp rasp interrupted. Thugs were listening; they had heard an increasing sound. The man who had been

"Just one of them airliners," he said. "They're liable to bear over this direction, coming out from Newark."

"That ain't the noise I'm listenin' to," piped another interrupter. "I'm hearin' a car, comin' along the road

"Yeah," agreed the hoodlum, "it's a buggy all right; but it's rollin' along our road!"

There was an order for the mobsters to spread; to cover both roads and intercept the approaching cars. Crooks

had forgotten the rumble from the air. Viciously, they spat oaths that promised slaughter to the persons who

Flashlights glimmered, as their owners looked for spots that would serve their ambush. The crooks were

None suspected the shape that was creeping from the underbrush, approaching the pair of leaders who still

remained close by Clyde's coupe. An arm swished downward through the darkness; the weight of a heavy

That stroke, the gasped groan that came with the hoodlum's fall were heard by the man beside him.

The crook turned, flicked his flashlight above the figure of his fallen pal. There, outlined in the glow, he saw

the shape of a weird fighter whose name he had mentioned only a few minutes before. The crook voiced that

name again; this time with a hoarse outcry, that brought startled responses from the spreading thugs about

Huskythroated, frozenlipped, the mobster was giving a call to action when he gulped the name:

SILENCE had covered The Shadow's approach into the midst of his foemen. For the present, he was willing

In the midst of a deadly horde, The Shadow needed every advantage that he could obtain. Seldom did crooks

hold The Shadow in a cordon. He wanted them to overlook the temporary chance that had come to them.

A weird taunt burst from The Shadow's lips a chilling, awecompelling laugh that fitted his unexpected

arrival. Ignoring the thug that stood at his very elbow, The Shadow swung about the circle of

Big guns were looming from his fists. To each staring hoodlum, the muzzles were an individual menace. So

Crooks dived, seeking distance before they opened fire. Their leader, gaping, realized that he was deserted.

With a raucous shout, he tried to break the spell. He succeeded; but brought disaster on himself. His method

was a lunge, straight for The Shadow, who was turned the other way. As he sprang, the crook came up with

The Shadow sidestepped; his twist took him from the focus of the crook's flashlight. The fellow stopped

short; darting his head from side to side, he blasted shots from his revolver. With those reverberations, new

Holding his trigger finger, the thug wheeled. Again he saw The Shadow, almost beside him. The mobleader

snarled as he aimed, confident that his next bullets would not be wasted. That shapeless, weaving blackness

The Shadow's peculiar twist had ended in a lunge of his own. The arm that sideswiped from the darkness

The crook's trigger finger tugged convulsively; his revolver spurted a final useless shot. He crumpled, with

Others heard the shot. They trained their flashlights. Instead of their leader, they saw The Shadow weaving

toward the shelter of the coupe. As he turned, The Shadow opened fire; wildly, the outspread thugs returned

Revolving in turretfashion, The Shadow was volleying a rapid fire that scattered his enemies farther.

Selfpreservation was more important than their urge to deliver death. Not one of the surrounding dozen

That didn't worry them. They thought they could outlast The Shadow. When his ammunition failed, he would

They had forgotten a factor that they considered unimportant: the approach of the automobiles that they had

heard. The Shadow, however, had remembered those arriving cars. He was timing his shots accordingly.

There was an instant when The Shadow's fire ceased. Crooks thought his guns were empty, and bounded

from the underbrush. Then, as lights appeared around the bend, The Shadow tongued his remaining shots in

Two thugs sprawled; others leaped away for new shelter that they failed to reach. Brilliant headlights blinded

them; guns talked from the whizzing car that was bringing the first of The Shadow's agents. Another pair of

lights gleamed from an incoming road. The harried hoodlums guessed that new aid was coming up.

Crooks leaped for their own cars; they started a mad flight, spurred by the pelt of bullets all about them. They

abandoned Clyde's coupe, along with half of their crew. Only one road was open: the one that led to the

Mobsters took that route, and The Shadow's agents let them make their start. It wasn't luck that allowed that

Off to the north, where the road ran through a gap in the Watchungs, those thugs would find a snare awaiting

them. State police had already received an anonymous tipoff, stating that crooks would arrive at a given

THE cars that bore The Shadow's agents were moving from the crossroad. The Shadow sprang into Clyde's

coupe and ran it into shelter. The crossroad lay clear in the moonlight, forming a mammoth X. There were

moments of silence while watchers waited; then the silvery glow was blanketed by a blackish shape that

A curious machine had reached the battleground, to make a perfect landing. It was The Shadow's wingless

autogiro, piloted here at his order. The long, broad blades were spinning lazily as the pilot stepped from the

ship to join the other agents. The Shadow came from the fringing darkness to take the giro himself.

The motor zoomed; the huge blades churned the air with blurring speed. Braking one wheel, The Shadow

swung the ship toward the eastward road, which had a slight downward slope. Rolling forward, the autogiro

Watching agents still heard the motor's roar; they saw the strange ship rise suddenly above the woods and

As the giro diminished to a toylike size, the roar of its motor became a purr. Listening ears could easily

mistake it for the hum of a distant airliner, fringing a range of the Watchung hills. Crooks at the crossroads

had gained that impression. The Shadow was confident that Cleeve and his companions would do the same.

THE SHADOW had undertaken two tasks. The first was to cover the crossroad after Cleeve and his men had

passed it; the other, to enter Borth's stronghold before Cleeve's invaders arrived there. Both of those aims

accomplished, The Shadow could prevent trouble from the rear while he assumed control of the coming battle

Earlier, The Shadow had planned to let his agents handle the crossroad, by waiting there until Cleeve had

gone by. Circumstances had made it impossible for him to post the agents before Cleeve arrived; hence The

Thanks to the arrival of the autogiro, The Shadow still had time to accomplish his second task. Cleeve's

schedule allowed a half hour before he closed in on Borth. It would take his squad some minutes more to

work their way up the mountainside. The Shadow, meanwhile, had handled battle in a dozen minutes; another

The impending conflict between Cleeve and Borth had all the elements of an equal struggle.

Cleeve was arriving secretly; he held the advantage of numbers. Depending upon a surprise attack, Cleeve

Borth, on the contrary, was crafty. His buried citadel was a house of tricks, where anything might happen.

The wise old doctor was certainly smart enough to know that a calculating invader would use a surprise

A third factor was needed to swing the outcome. Only The Shadow could provide that service, through

measures of his own preparation. Trusting upon his own devices, he intended to be on the scene when

From a onemile altitude, The Shadow looked down upon the moonbathed mountainside. He could see the

dull ribbon of the paved road weaving serpentine among the blackmassed trees. Along a higher contour

Cleeve and his men were lost beneath the thick trees. If they had heard the autogiro, they could not see it.

Once the motor's thrum ended, they would agree that it was a plane flying elsewhere.

The time for new silence had arrived. The Shadow stifled the giro's motor. His ship began a mile drop with

Those windmill blades spun faster and faster as air whistled through them. Their noiseless resistance

increased; the giro was literally hovering as The Shadow guided it. His full faculties restored, The Shadow

was sighting for a landing spot much more difficult to detect than the crossroad where his pilot had first

In itself, that roof was impossible to find. It was covered with a blacktarred surface that rendered it

invisible. But The Shadow had taken that into calculation. There was a clearing about the old building; and

Though the woods seemed thick to persons on the ground, the aerial view showed several cleared passages.

At halfmile altitude, The Shadow had no choice between them; but when the autogiro had dropped another

One open space was centered by a blotchy square, that represented the old lodge in the center of its clearing.

The Shadow veered his descent. The autogiro parachuted at an angle; it straightened and settled squarely

The jar of its wheels against the roof was trivial; shockabsorbers took it, while the forward roll made the

force a glancing one. Then came the brakes. The autogiro stopped, almost in the center of the roof.

Thanks to the broad expanse of the building top, the ship could not be seen from the ground below. Neither

Cleeve, nor Clyde, nor any of their companions would learn that this ship of the night had arrived before

STEPPING from the autogiro, The Shadow approached the roof edge and listened. There were no sounds of

approaching men, but his eyes detected the glimmers of flashlights among the trees.

One such glow appeared near the path that Harry had followed to the hunting lodge. The Shadow knew that it

Instead of moving toward the lodge, the light turned promptly in the opposite direction. The Shadow's laugh

was low, significant. He had the answer to the last problem that had confronted him.

It hadn't seemed logical that Cleeve would adopt searching tactics to approach so conspicuous an object as

the lodge that served as cover for Borth's underground abode. Nor would Cleeve consider entry easy if he

The Shadow had already considered the likelihood of another route into Borth's. The actions of Cleeve's crew

Clyde had used that other route and probably thought it the only one. He was leading Cleeve into the hillside.

Therefore, the invaders would come up into Borth's stronghold from below. That left The Shadow free to

Crossing the roof, The Shadow raised the skylight. Again, his laugh toned low. He was willing to risk the

dangerous steps beneath the fireplace, confident that no one would suspect his new arrival. He had plenty of

time to be deliberate; for he could picture Doctor Nicholas Borth still in his office, lulled by a false sense of

The Shadow could see no cause for complications that might produce unexpected trouble within the

stronghold. That analysis was justified by The Shadow's own observation; but it happened to be incorrect.

Recent minutes had produced a change within Borth's citadel. Events were brewing there; events so important

that they would have spurred The Shadow to absolute haste, had he known of their existence.

THE SHADOW was right in his picture of Nicholas Borth. The shockyhaired doctor was actually in his

office; and he sat there unperturbed. He was glancing at his clock, allowing a half hour more before he

Yakbar, too, was in the office, stolid as ever. But there was a restless person present; the one who was to

The girl was sure that Cleeve would invade tonight. She had every reason to suppose that Clyde had

completed his mission. She was wondering, though, where Harry Vincent fitted in the picture. Diane wanted

Finding a chance to leave the office, Diane made an excursion to Harry's room. She unlocked the door;

looked in to see Harry seated on his coach. He had awakened in a bewilderment similar to Clyde's

Diane spoke in a low tone. Harry saw the girl; he blinked to clear the blur that bothered his eyes. Diane came

Harry didn't answer. He was a little puzzled about what to say. He knew that Diane must be the girl that

Clyde had mentioned; but he remembered that Clyde had promised Diane that he would go directly to

Cleeve's. Maybe it would be best, Harry thought, to claim that he was one of Cleeve's Feds.

While Harry was still undecided, Diane turned suddenly toward the door. The girl placed her forefinger to her

lips. Stepping quickly into the corridor, she closed the door behind her. She didn't shut it all the way. A harsh

"I was passing," Harry heard Diane reply. "I heard the prisoner moving about. I was looking to see "

The door opened. Harry saw Yakbar. The Turk entered; gripped Harry's shoulder and drew the prisoner to his

IN a dopey manner, Harry accompanied the Turk to Borth's office. Diane followed; her face was troubled.

When Borth saw Harry, however, he was too interested to bother with minor circumstances. He started a

Harry looked blank as he shook his head. He spoke as though connecting scattered recollections; and he did it

"The woods the road" Harry's tone was vague "yes, I remember them. Then the cabin, or hunting lodge

"Where you were captured," snapped Borth. "With this in your possession, Mr, Vincent!"

From the desk drawer, Borth produced an automatic that Yakbar had found on Harry. Borth gestured with the

"The woods were lonely," volunteered Harry. "Sometimes criminals hide in the Watchungs."

Harry looked boldly toward Borth as he spoke. The doctor caught the inference. He indulged in a withering

"I am no criminal," declared Borth. "I am a man who has a mission: the protection of treasure and wealth that

were entrusted to me. I intend to leave here tonight. If you are what you claim to be a person who fell into

"On the contrary" Borth spoke shrewdly "if you are an enemy, I shall hold you as a hostage! My enemies

Borth picked up a newspaper; planked it before Harry's eyes. There, Harry read the news of Barsley's flight;

with it, a piece of information that intrigued him. Joe Cardona, searching Barsley's office, afterward, had

found a few thousand dollars in counterfeit money tucked deep on the closet shelf.

It happened that The Shadow, too, had read that news. Also that Cleeve had shown the news account to

Clyde, at which time Cleeve had cursed his own stupidity for not searching Barsley's himself. Harry did not

know those details; but the matter of counterfeit currency made him connect Barsley with Borth.

"Kirk Barsley is my agent," declared the doctor, grimly. "His actual duty is the sale of jewels. He never

handled counterfeit money in his life. The police have trumped a false charge against him."

Borth's gaze was narrowed, to see the effect of his words. Harry gave a nod, as though he agreed. Borth

"I am a lenient man," declared Borth, crisply. "I am patient, even with my enemies. This citadel is filled with

pitfalls; but only for use in emergency. I have never had to use them, and hope that I shall never have to do

"Therefore, Mr. Vincent" Borth's tone took an a smoothness that sounded fatherly "if you are an enemy,

your best course is to confess it. I shall not be harsh; I promise you. I am always lenient, unless persons show

BORTH was thinking of Clyde Burke. That gave him a sudden flash of thought. Before Harry caught the

Harry was still somewhat dopey. He tried to phrase a quick answer and slipped. At last, he caught himself;

Harry tightened his lips, shaking his head at the same time. Borth came to his feet; wagged an accusing

"You know Burke," gibed Borth, "but you don't care to talk about him! Perhaps Burke knows you, and may

have something to say. The solution is simple. I shall bring Burke up here and let you meet him."

Yakbar started toward the alcove that held the spiral stairs. Borth stopped the Turk.

"I shall go," announced Borth. "There are others below who can accompany me to Burke's cell. Remain here,

As Borth left, Harry looked toward Diane. The girl was perceptibly pale. She knew what was due; Borth

Diane would have been totally lost, if it hadn't been for Harry. The understanding look that he gave was all

The Turk had noted Diane's falter. His glare was suspicious; he wondered why she had shown alarm. Diane,

however, was equal to Yakbar. Cleverly, she started a game that would have failed with Borth but which

"There may be danger, Yakbar!" she said, with wellfeigned breathlessness. "If this man" she pointed to

Harry "came here to find Burke, others may be on their way to search for both of them!"

"Look into the corridor," suggested Diane. "Listen there; make sure that no one has come down from the

Yakbar stared at the wall, where Harry saw a bell and an unlighted electric bulb. They were evidently the

alarm that had sounded Harry's own entry into the abandoned lodge. Yakbar shrugged, as though he thought

The Turk decided to go out into the corridor. Remembering Harry, he looked at the prisoner. By that time,

Harry had caught Diane's purpose; to aid it, he had slumped in his chair, faking a groggy spell. The bluff

To satisfy Diane, the Turk went out into the corridor and made a routine trip to the steel door. That interval

was all that Diane needed. She sprang to the desk, yanked open the drawer and brought out Harry's

"I don't know," returned Harry. He was on his feet, alert. "But Burke took your message "

"Then Cleeve will be due tonight. We can't wait for him, though. We've got to capture the place ourselves!"

HARRY shifted behind the door. Yakbar entered; looked suddenly toward Harry's chair. An instant later, the

Yakbar grimaced; his muscles tightened. The Turk was willing to risk one of his quick wrestling moves.

Diane called a quick warning to Harry. He jabbed the gun mouth harder, ordered Yakbar to raise his hands.

Diane brought suitcase straps from the closet. Harry beckoned; behind Yakbar's back, he shifted the gun to

the girl's hand. When Yakbar next saw the weapon, Diane was facing him with it, and the determination of

the girl's expression told the Turk that she wouldn't spare bullets if they were needed.

Yakbar submitted meekly when Harry wrenched his arms behind him and strapped them there.

Action had put an end to all of Harry's dopiness. The constantly changing atmosphere of the airconditioned

Diane looked on approvingly as Harry spilled Yakbar on the floor and trussed the prisoner's legs. Harry used

a dusting cloth to gag the Turk; after that, he rolled the helpless man into the closet.

There were hasty footsteps on the steel staircase. One man was coming up alone, and Diane recognized his

Harry motioned the girl to the desk, He took the gun from her and slumped in his chair, nestling the weapon

beside him. Diane smiled wisely. She liked Harry's idea of waiting to see what Borth would have to say.

Arriving, the doctor looked about for Yakbar. Borth was puffing; he couldn't ask where the Turk had gone.

"Yakbar is making an inspection," she told Borth. "He went out to examine the steel door."

"Good!" panted Borth, catching his voice at last. "I bring bring bad news from below. Burke Burke has

Borth shook his head. His lips framed a hard smile, that promised an ill future for Denovar.

"The other servants are holding him," stated Borth. "He is in Burke's cell. We are going to question him. I

want you and Yakbar to be with me, Diane. Yakbar guarded the cell before Denovar did; and after Denovar

took over his duty, he reported to you. Therefore, you are the two who should confront him."

Diane was nodding, as if she agreed. When Borth stepped toward the door, Diane turned her gaze to Harry.

Her nod continued. It was meant for Harry. Understanding, Harry came up from his chair, with the sharp

A pained expression strained Borth's dryish face. Turned toward Harry, the old doctor let his shocky head

droop forward. His look was one of complete resignation. He seemed feeble when he gazed at Diane. His

"Enough of that," interposed Diane, sternly, "You've said all that Vincent and I need to know. There's no one

on the middle floor. That means we're going to the strongroom, and you, Doctor Borth" the girl's tone was

Harry gestured for Borth to turn about. Wearily, his hands upraised, the doctor marched toward the steel

staircase. Harry followed close behind him; then came Diane. Their footsteps faded as they descended the

Complete silence filled the empty office, where Yakbar lay bound behind the partly closed closet door. When

The Shadow reached that vacated room, he would learn that others had dealt with Doctor Borth.

THE middle floor was silent and somber when Harry and Diane marched their prisoner through the corridors.

They reached the door of the doctor's impregnable vault. It was Diane who gave the order for Borth to open it

Borth did not stall. All that slowed him was the tremble of his hand. Harry could see good reason for the old

man's falter. He remembered Clyde's report regarding the strongroom: that it housed counterfeiting

It was Diane who had learned that, for she had given the details to Clyde. This was Diane's triumph; she

"When Cleeve gets here," whispered Diane, to Harry, "we'll have something to show him. He won't have to

A final click interrupted. Borth tugged the big door. It swung on its silent hinges. Inside, Harry saw a

darkened room; it was more than a vault. An ample space, airconditioned like the rest of Borth's citadel, that

Borth's hands were raised as he turned about. His words were a dry, bitter crackle.

"Shall I enter?" he questioned. "Do you want me to turn over my own possessions?"

Harry was about to nudge Borth into the strongroom. Diane reached out to hold Borth back.

"We'll go in with him," Diane told Harry. "This door can be opened from inside the vault. Burke was nearly

Turning from Harry to Borth, Diane added: "You have missed your last opportunity, doctor!"

Borth's eyes were heady. His head tilted backward; he crackled an insane laugh, as if something in his brain

had broken. He was convulsive, uncontrollable. It seemed that defeat had turned him into a doddering fool.

It wasn't the sort of bluff that either Harry or Diane had expected. That was why they were deceived. As

Borth's crazed laughter echoed in their ears; they failed to detect creeping sounds in back of them.

There was a sudden surge of men. Strong arms whipped Harry and Diane back into the corridor. The gun was

plucked from Harry's fist. Diane's clawing hands were pinned in back of her. They stared into the faces of

Borth's servants, four huskies who they thought were still on the floor below, watching Denovar.

Borth's mad mirth was finished. The whitehaired doctor stood with folded arms; his expression was one of

dignity and triumph. The change amazed Harry; made him marvel at Borth's strange personality. Harry

expected Borth to show the manner of a fiend. Instead, the old man acted like a hero bringing victory to a

"TAKE them below," ordered Borth. "They can share the cell with Denovar. Ah, Diane!" Borth shook his

head. "I could scarcely believe Denovar when he confessed that you had bribed him. I came upstairs, hoping

"But I took precautions, also" keen eyes were glittering, wisely. "I knew that if you were a traitor; you

would force me to open the strongroom. That is why I told you that the middle floor was clear. Instead, my

men were posted in side corridors, waiting until they heard the laugh that told your treachery was fully

They had reached the end of the corridor that led to the floor below. Borth pressed the switch. The end wall

slid back. A sudden spasm of thought wrenched Harry. He looked toward Diane, then at Borth, who was

pointing down the stairs. There was something that Harry wanted to say but couldn't.

He'd wait, he decided, until they reached the floor below. He wanted to hear the questions that Borth asked;

then frame his answers afterward. It was better to go peaceably, until they reached the cell. The trip probably

They hadn't gone down a dozen steps before the captors stopped. One of the huskies turned about, shot words

to Borth in a foreign tongue. Borth listened from the top of the stairs. He heard the same sounds as the others.

The servants tried to shove Harry and Diane ahead of them. They were too late. A flood of flashlights burned

from below. Revolvers glimmered in the glow. Harry saw Clyde Burke leading the intruders, with another

Clyde's companion was a rangy, darkhaired man whose square face was as firm as his gun fist. Harry knew

Borth's men tried to drop the prisoners, to make their own escape. The intruders reached them; they were

Cleeve broke through to join Diane. The girl pointed toward Borth, as the agile doctor darted away along a

Clyde had reached Harry. Together, they followed Cleeve and Diane. Borth was trying to shake his pursuers;

but Diane knew these underground passages as well as he did. At the final corridor, Diane shoved Cleeve

Harry was almost there when Cleeve rounded the last corner. He saw Cleeve take steady aim. Springing

Borth was a dozen feet short of that opened barrier, with the blackness beyond it offering shelter. Cleeve had

Harry was right. Borth's legs failed; the old doctor sprawled helplessly on the floor. When he came up to his

Cleeve motioned with his gun. Borth arose and approached. Cleeve shoved him toward the wall; had him

THE rest of the squad came up, bringing Borth's servants. Cleeve put the rest of the prisoners in line; after

"Where's the Turk who grabbed Burke?" he demanded. "And the other fellow, Denovar, whom you lined up

"Vincent captured Yakbar," explained Diane, with a smile. "Denovar is a prisoner, down in Burke's cell."

"Who's Vincent?" Cleeve spoke blankly; then turned to look for Harry. "Is this the fellow you mean?"

Diane nodded. She was puzzled as she gazed from Cleeve to Harry. It was Harry who answered for himself.

"I'm a friend of Burke's," he told Cleeve. "I just happened to fall in here, so I thought I'd help things along."

The explanation brought a chuckle from Cleeve. He asked Clyde about it; the reporter nodded. He said that

Harry had been looking for him, but he hadn't suspected that his friend had fallen into a trap.

Harry, meanwhile, was reclaiming his automatic from the hip pocket of one of Borth's servants. Turning

"Anything else Burke and I can do for you, Mr. Cleeve? We've worked with government men before."

"You have?" Cleeve seemed pleased. "I'll tell you what, Vincent. Suppose you and Burke go into the

strongroom first. Then we can give you credit for leading us there. How's that?"

Taking Clyde's elbow, Harry turned him toward the vault. As they took their first step, Harry gritted in

"Four paces; steady. Then dive for that strongroom with all you've got in you! Get me?"

A nod from Clyde. They had finished the fourth pace. Harry gave Clyde a terrific, headlong shove; saw the

reporter make a wiry dive for the blackness. But Harry didn't follow. He figured only one could get through;

Dropping short of the strongroom, Harry spun about as he came to on one hand and both knees.

Harry was aiming back along the corridor, expecting what he saw. Cleeve and his entire squad were aiming

FOR the moment, they were forgetful of Borth and his captured servants, who stood helpless and unarmed,

not even daring to cry a warning word. The only reason why guns hadn't started to blast was because Harry

Harry had shoved Clyde to safety; in his own turn, he was low on the floor, forcing Cleeve's band to change

All that Harry wanted was the first shot. There'd be a lot more coming afterward; volleys that he didn't expect

to be alive to hear. But that first shot would be some satisfaction. Harry thought of that when he was

dropping; but before he could even aim, some one else took over the privilege of opening the battle.

Guns roared not once but with quicktimed bursts. They tongued from the one spot where no one expected

them from the blackness of the strongroom itself. Long spurts of flame sped from above the floor where

Clyde had rolled to safety. Jabbing above the level of Harry's crouched shoulders, those stabs sped

Hardfaced men were toppling before Harry could begin his fire. He didn't hesitate; he joined the outburst an

The echoes of that roaring fire from the vault told Harry who had started the unexpected rescue. Only one

Bullets were ricocheting along the corridor. Cleeve's dropping cohorts couldn't pick the vault door in their

hurry. It was Cleeve, himself, who gained the first good aim. Steadying among his failing crew, Cleeve gave

a desperate shout. Aiming straight, he pumped three bullets into the blackness of the strongroom.

The Shadow's fire stopped. Its halt came an instant before Cleeve's shots. Triumphantly, Cleeve turned to his

fake Feds and called for them to rally. With Cleeve's command came a fierce, mocking laugh, weird, sinister,

The Shadow had seen Cleeve's coming aim. He had drawn to shelter before Cleeve's fire started. The

Shadow's guns were busy again; they roared the few shots that they still held. Harry fired; so did Clyde.

Madly, Cleeve gave a shout for massed attack. He and his few unscathed followers still had bullets. This was

Cleeve's attack never started. As he and his few men loomed up from their crouched position, a sharp fire

started from the rear of the corridor. The Shadow clipped Cleeve with a final shot. Cleeve spun half about, to

see his men being jerked by flying lead. The Shadow had received aid from an added marksman, who had

Over the sprawling shapes of Cleeve's henchmen, Harry saw Yakbar. The Turk's shots were coolly placed

where they did the most good. Cleeve's band was whittled down to a bewildered handful; an easy prey for the

BORTH and his unarmed servants provided that finishing touch a handtohand grapple, in which they

wrested away the guns that wounded thugs were still trying to use. Flat against the wall, Borth and his men

Diane, too, had found security against the wall opposite. Her thought was escape; but her path was blocked

when she darted for the end of the corridor. Yakbar flung out a brawny arm; turned the treacherous girl about,

The lights of the vault glowed suddenly. Clyde blinked as he saw the actual contents of the strongroom.

Doctor Borth had arrived when The Shadow pressed the switch. Borth was opening boxes, showing massed

clusters of heavy jewelry. These were the actual treasures that Borth had brought to America, as he had

There were boxes of cash and checks; deposit books and account sheets that showed the meticulous care with

which Borth had handled his funds. Leaving The Shadow with Doctor Borth, Clyde walked from the

THERE were visitors, later, who arrived at Borth's, summoned by mysterious tipoffs that had reached them

As stocky as Joe, but more dour, Vic was a bonafide government man. Both the police inspector and the

Clyde and Harry were present in Borth's office when he told his story to the visitors. The Shadow's agents

"This stronghold was prepared before I reached America," stated Doctor Borth. "When danger threatened, I

brought the treasure here, with persons whom I trusted. I never suspected Diane's treachery."

"She bluffed me, too," put in Clyde, "with that counterfeiting yarn. It was my bad luck to fall for it."

"So did I," added Harry. "It wasn't until Doctor Borth had opened the strongroom that I saw through Diane's

game. She showed her real self when she thought I came from Cleeve. Before I had a chance to switch to

"The Shadow learned the deception long before," he said. "He told me that he came here to balk Cleeve.

Vincent and Diane had taken me to the strongroom. The Shadow found Yakbar and released him. They heard

"The Shadow made for the strongroom," nodded Harry, "knowing that you would head there. I thought I

saved you, Doctor Borth, when I made Cleeve hold his shot. What I really did was prevent The Shadow from

"Cleeve sent the mob that murdered Fred, the service station man," said Joe. "They were trailing Barsley.

They figured Fred knew too much, so they killed him. When I located Barsley, last night, Cleeve decided to

"That made us link the thugs with Barsley instead of Cleeve, What's more, Cleeve planted some counterfeit

dough in Barsley's closet, to make him look crooked. I'd like to know, though, how The Shadow figured the

"Cleeve joined the chase," explained Borth. "Afterward, the thugs doubled back and boxed The Shadow.

Only one person could have told them where to find The Shadow. That man was Cleeve."

Clyde's eyes popped. He realized why Hawkeye had watched Cleeve's. He understood, too, how thugs had

bobbed up so suddenly. Cleeve had telephoned them to get rid of Clyde. In preventing that, The Shadow had

Clyde had been safe when he doubled back to Cleeve's, because Cleeve hadn't wanted a murder in his own

apartment. The Shadow, however, had stayed near until he learned that Cleeve intended to take Clyde along

to Borth's. Since The Shadow intended to be at Borth's when Cleeve arrived, he knew that Clyde would be

As for the crooks at the crossroad, The Shadow had foreseen that Cleeve would have henchmen cover that

vital spot. He had been there to polish off the reserves, so that Cleeve could be trapped if he managed flight.

"Those fake badges never fooled The Shadow," assured Vic. "He figured Cleeve as a smart international

crook; and he was right. Cleeve looks a lot like a certain criminal we've been hunting under another name.

"The Delban girl will tell us plenty! She knew Cleeve back in England. She's admitted already that she saw

The Shadow here this afternoon and tried to drop him through one of the traps. This whole case is as good as

cleared. Only, I advise you to move your jewels, Doctor Borth, before all this news breaks."

CARDONA and Marquette left with the prisoners. Clyde and Harry followed later, believing that The

Shadow had gone long before. They learned differently when they reached the woods just below the clearing.

That was when they gained a clue to the significance of Borth's last cryptic remark.

There was a sudden, familiar roar above the roof of the old hunting lodge. Looking back, Clyde and Harry

saw a strange plane rising into the moonlight. They recognized the spinning blades of The Shadow's autogiro.

This was The Shadow's real departure, with Doctor Borth a passenger. With them they carried a precious

The treasure entrusted to Borth was going to a new, unknown hiding place. There, that valued store would lie

under the protection of a guardian whose recognized power would discourage other criminal thrusts.