THE HOODED CIRCLE ...................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. CRIME'S MESSAGE ........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. VANISHED FOEMEN ....................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. CARDONA'S PROGRESS............................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. DEEDS IN THE DARK ...............................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. CRIME MYSTERIOUS................................................................................................17

CHAPTER VI. DEATH BREAKS THE TRAIL..................................................................................20

CHAPTER VII. THE CHANCE TRAIL ...............................................................................................25

CHAPTER VIII. THE DRUID GLEN..................................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. THE LONE HOOD......................................................................................................34

CHAPTER X. SCHEMES REVERSED...............................................................................................40

CHAPTER XI. CRIME'S NEW QUEST..............................................................................................44

CHAPTER XII. VOICE OF CRIME .....................................................................................................48

CHAPTER XIII. DEATH'S TROPHIES ...............................................................................................51

CHAPTER XVI. THE STRONG ROOM.............................................................................................55

CHAPTER XV. HOODS IN THE NIGHT...........................................................................................59

CHAPTER XVI. THE LAST LINKS ....................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XVII. THE GOLDEN BOUGH.........................................................................................68

CHAPTER XVIII. THE BROKEN CIRCLE........................................................................................72

CHAPTER XIX. DEATH BEFORE DEATH .......................................................................................76

CHAPTER XX. THE HIDDEN HOODS ..............................................................................................79

NORTON RUDLER halted his trim opentopped roadster in the middle of the dingy block. He looked

toward the mouth of a darkish, squalid alley and shook his head. Then gazing up to the dim lights that shone

Nodding, Marjorie Merton gave a light, rippling laugh. She was amused by the worried expression that

appeared on Rudler's handsome face. Keeneyed, squarejawed, Rudler looked very much a man of the

world. It was rather intriguing to find him in an environment that made him nervous.

"It's perfectly safe," assured Marjorie in a bantering tone. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have let you drive me in

from Pinewood, Mr. Rudler. Somehow, I thought that all places were alike to you, including the dismal

Rudler smiled. Marjorie's tone reassured him. He glanced at the girl, studying the charming roundness of her

"Since you're not worried," he said, "I don't need to be. I was thinking of you, Miss Merton, not myself."

"Usually in the daytime," admitted Marjorie. "It's been dark though, when I've left. Of course, Mr. Hayde

They alighted from the roadster. Marjorie led the way along the alley, to a door that gave access to a poorly

"He's eccentric," she explained, "but that's to be expected. Dustin Hayde is a real genius."

"Odd, that I've never heard about his work," mused Rudler. "Of course, I've spent the last five years abroad.

"Probably not," agreed Marjorie. "In fact, he was unknown a year ago. His work came into prominence very

suddenly. He will become more famous, now that his 'Seven Hells' have been completed."

"Yes. You will see them tomorrow night at the reception that the Benholmes are holding in Pinewood."

Marjorie knocked at the studio door. There was a pause, then the grating sound of a bolt being withdrawn.

The door opened slightly then swung wide, to disclose a thin man who wore an artist's smock.

Facially, Dustin Hayde was an interesting study. His features were sallow, gaunt, with a bulging forehead

half hidden in a shock of jetblack hair. His eyes were beady and restless, like his lips.

Recognizing Marjorie, Hayde gave a courteous bow; then stared, glaringly at Rudler. Marjorie remembered

Hayde's challenging manner relaxed when he learned that Norton Rudler was a new resident of Pinewood,

the exclusive suburb where Marjorie lived. It went without saying that Rudler was wealthy, and might be a

patron of the arts. Hayde, it appeared, was only too glad to make the acquaintance of prospective customers.

AMBLING across a studio that was stacked with easels, canvases, frames, and a hodgepodge of other

articles, Hayde drew aside a cloth to reveal a halffinished painting of a girl in Grecian costume, holding

"How do you like me?" queried Marjorie. "I'm Lysistrata, the famous Grecian lady."

Rudler's nods showed admiration of the painting. While he was still gazing at it, Marjorie turned to Hayde.

"Where are the 'Seven Hells'?" she asked. "They were all framed, the last time I was here, and you had crates

"I sent them ahead," explained Hayde. "The truckmen took them this afternoon. They happened to be going

Hayde was staring at Rudler, as if wondering whether the visitor intended to stay. Rudler settled that problem

"Call me when you're ready to leave," he told Marjorie. "I'll be at the Cobalt Club, where they are holding a

Mention of the police commissioner brought a nervous glance from Hayde. As soon as Rudler was gone,

Hayde suggested that Marjorie change to the Grecian costume, so that he could resume work on the painting.

Entering a little dressing room, Marjorie closed the door and found her costume on a chair. It consisted of a

shortskirted, sleeveless robe, and a pair of sandals, which required an entire change from the modern attire

Though she had gone through the process before, in this same dressing room, the girl began to feel nervous.

Rudler's dislike of the neighborhood, Hayde's suspicion of strangers were elements that made her ill at ease.

Moreover, as Marjorie drew the shade of the dressingroom window, she noticed that the sash had no lock.

Remembering that the window opened directly to a low roof, she was swept by a sudden fear of possible

After a few hesitant moments, Marjorie withdrew toward the door at the front of the dressing room, feeling

safer there. Her nerve returning, she began to undress much more rapidly than usual. All the while, an

increasing chill swept over her, until she sank to the chair, shivering so violently that she could scarcely

The dressing room wasn't cool enough to give Marjorie such shivers, even though she was almost unclothed.

Nor had anything occurred at the window to produce her increased alarm. Nevertheless, she sensed that

Analyzing her fear, Marjorie fancied that she heard a voice. Holding her breath, she pressed her hands against

Hayde's voice, coming from beyond the door in a lowthroated rumble. The words could not be

distinguished, but there were pauses, as if Hayde had waited for someone to reply.

Marjorie failed to hear another voice, but she did not like the tone of Hayde's. It seemed to betoken madness,

but she could not guess the exact emotion. Then, in the midst of Marjorie's stress, Hayde's voice ceased.

Starting to resume her own attire, Marjorie paused. It wouldn't do to arouse Hayde's suspicion. If she came

out fully dressed, stating that she did not care to pose this evening, he would know that she had overheard

him. Her nerve returned, Marjorie tossed aside the remnants of her modern garb and put on the Grecian

Helmet, shield, and spear were in the corner. Equipped with those instruments of ancient warfare, Marjorie

opened the door and strode out bravely. Hayde was mixing paints. He gave her a sharp look, then went back

Marjorie assumed the Lysistrata pose. Hayde began to paint, and Marjorie soon was sure that he had become

himself again. That seemed proven at the end of five minutes, when the telephone bell rang. Hayde did not

Smiling, Marjorie lowered the shield and gestured with the spear, As Hayde began an irritated protest, she

Hayde's angry look faded as he finally heard the phone bell. But while he was on his way across the room,

Marjorie observed a nervous twist of his face. The look increased while he was at the phone.

"Hello, hello." Hayde's tone became lowthroated. "Yes, I can hear you... Who is it?... Hello "

Suddenly clanking the receiver on the hook, Hayde sat down and mopped his forehead. His eyes lost their

"Another of those calls!" he bleated. "They're driving me mad, Miss Merton! What can they be up to?"

"I don't know," returned Hayde. "Someone calls, starts a conversation, then hangs up. They never make

sense, except for one thing" he was clenching his fists restlessly "and that is the threatening tone the

"I heard you talking," explained Marjorie, "and your voice sounded very odd. But why should anyone be

"They might want my paintings," replied Hayde, pacing back and forth across the studio. "The ones you

mentioned: the 'Seven Hells.' Benholme is paying a high price for them, you know. Unfortunately, certain

"Because I hired them as models. They were the types that I needed. I'm glad I shipped the paintings today.

Still, I ought to report these calls to the police. But unless I talked to someone high up, they would probably

Marjorie had an immediate inspiration. Laying aside shield and spear, she went to the telephone and called

the Cobalt Club. Learning that Norton Rudler had not yet reached there, she left word for him to call back.

Returning to the platform, Marjorie was reaching for the spear, when she spoke to Hayde.

"When Norton calls," she said. "I'll ask him to speak to the police commissioner personally. After that "

AN interruption came. It was gargly sound from Hayde, a cross between a shriek and a groan. Turning

toward the artist, Marjorie saw the dressingroom door before she was full about. It was open; on the

The man's costume was a long robe that trailed the floor. It was topped by a hood that came clear across his

face and below his chin. Eyes were glinting through holes in the cloth mask; the man's hand was visible, and

The revolver wasn't pointed toward Marjorie. Its angle told that it was aimed at Hayde. With sudden impulse,

Marjorie flung herself about, intending to dash for the main door of the studio, to reach the doorway beyond

Another hooded foe was on the threshold. Hayde had neglected to bolt the door after Rudler left. Invaders

had found easy entry by that route, as well as the unlocked dressingroom window. The second Hood also

As the girl shrank back, the man moved inward. He was making room for more of his ilk, a pair of them. So

was the Hood at the dressingroom door. Approaching Hayde, he was followed by two more of the

One Hood pressed the light switch. The studio went dark, but only for an instant. The play of flashlights

illuminated the premises, keeping Hayde and Marjorie in separate circles. Thick, ugly voices warned against

Turned toward Hayde, Marjorie saw two revolvers press the artist's temple. Hayde winced. He tried to plead

with his captors. They were telling him that they wanted his famous set of paintings, the "Seven Hells."

Hayde was pleading that he didn't have them. Before Marjorie could offer testimony in his behalf, a growled

voice commanded her to keep silent. The order was emphasized by the pressure of a gun muzzle against the

Marjorie could feel its coldness through the thin cloth of the scant Grecian robe. It sent new chills along her

Crime's messengers were at hand. They had captured Dustin Hayde; and, like the trembling artist, Marjorie

CONTRASTED to the sinister scene at Hayde's studio, the foyer of the swanky Cobalt Club was a convivial

spot. A throng was gathered there, and the center of the group was Ralph Weston, New York's police

commissioner, a briskmannered man whose broad, beaming face was featured by a shortclipped military

Spying Norton Rudler among the group, Weston thrust himself forward to shake hands. He knew that Rudler

was a resident of Pinewood, where Weston had many friends; he was also interested in the fact that Rudler

"Good news, Rudler," announced Weston. "I've just heard that Lamont Cranston will be with us this evening.

He's the chap I want you to meet. You two will have a lot in common. He's a globetrotter, like yourself."

"You flatter me, commissioner," returned Rudler, with a smile. "My journeying has been trivial, compared

An attendant approached while Rudler was speaking. Courteously, the man informed him:

"A message for you, Mr. Rudler. Miss Merton asks that you call this number. She phoned only five minutes

Rudler went to a telephone booth. Returning, he wore the same serious expression that Marjorie had seen him

"I'm worried, commissioner," said Rudler. "I left Miss Merton at an artist's studio. She wasn't to call me until

after the banquet. But she has phoned already, asking me to call back. I can't get an answer from the number."

"Miss Merton?" repeated Weston. "Do you mean Marjorie Merton, the daughter of Wilmer Merton, the

"I drove her in from Pinewood," he explained. "I told her I didn't like the looks of the neighborhood around

"I've heard of him," interrupted Weston, briskly. "Come with me, Rudler. I'll call headquarters and have

Turning toward the phone booth, neither Weston nor Rudler observed a tall, calmfaced personage who had

just entered the foyer. Keen ears had overheard their conversation, steady eyes were watching them from a

The arrival was Lamont Cranston. It was not surprising that he had passed notice. Cranston had a way of

remaining quietly in the background, when he came upon a situation such as this. Turning in the opposite

direction, he had strolled from the club by the time Weston began his phone call.

Stepping into a sumptuous limousine, Cranston gave the chauffeur a destination in the neighborhood of

Hayde's studio some twenty blocks away. As the big car rolled along, its passenger drew out a secret drawer

A black cloak slid over Cranston's shoulders, a slouch hat settled on his head. He was a thing invisible as he

leaned back in the gloom, tucking a brace of automatics beneath the enveloping cloak.

Almost in a trice, Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow, foe of all the underworld!

Where crime threatened, The Shadow followed. Rudler's report of an unanswered telephone call indicated the

very sort of situation that intrigued this master of the night. Calculating that he could reach Hayde's well

THE limousine stopped on an isolated street. Gliding out into the darkness, The Shadow threaded a rapid,

Hooking with a hand the sliding ladder of a fire escape, he drew it down and began an upward trip that

He saw flickering lights from low windows, noted the little roof beside Hayde's studio. He saw another path

of entry, however, that suited him better. It was a skylight almost at the top of a slanted roof, probably above

Reaching his objective, The Shadow gave the skylight needed pressure with a short, steel jimmy that made an

excellent lever when attached to the end of an automatic. The frame yielded silently; inched open, the

He saw a haggard man, wearing an artist's smock, pleading earnestly with two captors who prodded him with

guns. Bathed in the glow of flashlights, Dustin Hayde was a pitiable sight. His tone was plaintive as it drifted

"I sent the paintings out to Pinewood," Hayde insisted. "I swear they aren't hidden anywhere around here "

A growled voice interrupted with threats of torture if Hayde wouldn't admit where the paintings really were.

Meanwhile, probing lights were moving about the studio, searching every cranny. The Shadow saw those

It was centered squarely upon a very lovely girl, whose filmy Grecian costume did credit to her shapely

figure. The Shadow could see the sparkle of clear blue eyes as Marjorie Merton turned her goldenhaired

Probing flashlights were moving in. Vaguely, The Shadow could make out the robed figures of the men who

formed the Hooded Circle. Identifying the criminals was impossible, but it made no difference to The

Shadow. When it came to such marauders, he dealt with all alike, regardless of what grotesque guise they

Boldly, The Shadow chose his own course. It was one that depended upon surprise, plus certain cooperation

which he was sure he could obtain. A harassed man like Hayde would generally seize upon any chance that

came his way, a girl with Marjorie's apparent bravery would prove even better in the pinch.

Working the skylight higher, The Shadow slid his legs through the space, let his body follow into an

The thump of the closing skylight came just ahead of the sound that The Shadow made in landing. Striking in

a darkened space, the cloaked invader bounded upward as though his legs were rubberized to take the shock.

As he rose, he uttered a challenging laugh that came like the mirth of a living ghost.

Such strident mockery, rising from the very center of the Hooded Circle, created instant consternation.

Crooks spun about, boring their flashlights upon the cloaked fighter in their midst. To their startled gaze, it

seemed that The Shadow had risen from the floor. Guns unaimed, they chose the very tactics that The

Forgetting their prisoners, the half dozen Hoods flung themselves upon the blackclad challenger, swinging

METAL clashed metal. The Shadow's arms were slashing in wide circles. His heavy guns not only beat off

blows, but they staggered the men who tried to slug him with downward strokes. The circle was scattering,

Out of that whirl, a gun blasted. The Shadow was opening fire with a .45 across the shoulders of the

grapplers. He was aiming for more distant Hoods, who were trying to take aim with revolvers as they turned

Foemen were lucky. The grapplers disturbed The Shadow's aim; moreover, he deliberately delayed his shots

knowing that Hayde or Marjorie might suddenly come into their path. His fire, however, accomplished its

The Hoods hurled their flashlights away and dived for opposite doors. The grapplers, a gun roaring in their

The Shadow's laugh rose with a peal of triumph. Both guns drawn, he was ready to bag a few members of the

stampeded crew. His system was to circle the studio, picking each door as a target when he approached it.

Darkness was no handicap to that process. Unfortunately, darkness did not remain.

Marjorie grabbed one of the rolling flashlights and swung it across the studio, hoping to outline hooded

targets for The Shadow. Knowing nothing of his circling course, the girl gave a startled gasp when the

An instant later, he had reversed his course, too late. Dustin Hayde, free at last, saw a gun swing in his

direction. A gloved hand gripped the gun; it was a darkmetal automatic, not a shiny revolver. But such

details did not deter the frenzied artist. Flinging himself upon The Shadow, Hayde bowled the blackcoated

An automatic bounced across the floor. Marjorie saw it, sprang forward with the flashlight. One of the

hooded crooks dived for her from the stairway door. The girl screamed as he clutched her and dragged her

Again came The Shadow's laugh. Its very tone inspired Marjorie to a valiant struggle. Wrenching hard, she

slipped the Hood's grasp, except for the single shoulder buckle of her costume, which snapped under the

Rolling across the floor, clutching at the falling folds of the silken robe, Marjorie heard the fleeing Hoods

The Shadow followed that route long enough to spur them on with bullets. Then he was back again, blazing

shots toward the dressing room. A few spasmodic bursts responded; then other Hoods were on their way, out

A tiny flashlight cut a swath around the studio. It showed Marjorie seated on the floor, her ruined costume

drawn up beneath her elbows. Hayde was on one hand and knees; his other hand was rubbing the side of his

jaw, which had received a punch from a gunweighted fist as a rebuke for his mistake.

The light licked the length of a ladder that lay along the wall, then the torch was extinguished. There were

footsteps pounding from the stairway; Marjorie thought that enemies were coming back, but The Shadow

Hooded crooks were gone. Luck had given them too good a start for pursuit. The Shadow was thinking in

There were vague sounds in the darkness, while the thump of footsteps came nearer. A man flashed a light

from the doorway, keeping it gingerly along the wall. Finding a light switch, he pressed it.

The studio was illuminated. Marjorie saw a stocky, swarthy man whose turnedback coat disclosed a badge

As the swarthy man stared toward the center of the studio, an object came toppling downward, to clatter on

the floor. It was a ladder, loosed by the person who had used it. As the ladder flattened, a skylight thumped

into place. With that sound from above came the fading echoes of a departing laugh.

THE swarthy arrival was Police Inspector Joe Cardona, ace of the Manhattan force. He knew the signs that

marked defeated crime. He could tell that menacing invaders had met with trouble during their brief visit.

As testimony of The Shadow's prowess, both Marjorie and Hayde were alive and unharmed. The Shadow had

accomplished what the law had hoped to do. He had rescued two endangered persons, and had routed a band

Like his foemen, The Shadow had vanished. Cardona hoped that The Shadow had taken up the trail that the

law was too late to follow. Aided by two detectives who had come with him, Cardona decided to investigate

the scene before him and learn all that had happened in the studio. He intended to send a full report to

The cloaked fighter had reached the waiting limousine. Finding no traces of crooks along the way, The

Shadow promptly entered the car and spoke an order to the chauffeur in a quiet, even tone that went with the

The Shadow was again on his way to the banquet at the Cobalt Club. There, as Lamont Cranston, he would

greet his friend, Commissioner Weston, and, later, learn all about the startling events at Hayde's studio.

But that would merely be an interlude. The Shadow was looking forward to another meeting with the

members of the Hooded Circle, who had so luckily escaped his wrath upon this first encounter.

LATE the next afternoon, Lamont Cranston paid a visit to Commissioner Ralph Weston at the latter's office.

He went there at the commissioner's request. In making the appointment by telephone, Weston had acted

quite mysteriously, a fact that interested The Shadow, even though he could guess what it was about.

With Weston, The Shadow found Inspector Joe Cardona. The two were mulling over copious reports

concerning the thwarted robbery at Hayde's studio. There had been earlier reports the previous evening, but

"Regarding that trouble last night, Cranston," began the commissioner. "I think we've gotten to the nub of it.

"Hayde's seven paintings, I suppose," returned The Shadow. "The newspapers have a lot to say about them."

Weston nodded. His desk was stacked with newspapers. Big headlines told of the "Seven Hells," which one

newspaper had dubbed "Hayde's Hades." But Weston acted as though he saw beyond the headlines.

"Benholme is paying fifteen thousand for those paintings," said the commissioner. "Do you think they could

"Eventually, yes," returned The Shadow. "Dustin Hayde is rapidly becoming famous. In a year or so "

"That's just it!" interrupted Weston, giving the desk a triumphant, broadhanded thump. "But why should

crooks wait a year or more holding paintings that would have to be shipped abroad before they could be sold.

Why didn't they wait until Hayde became famous, then stage a robbery, when a single painting would bring a

"On the contrary, it was good judgment," affirmed Weston. "The thieves were after more than cash. Inspector

Swinging about in his swivel chair, Weston gestured to Cardona, who promptly expressed his theory.

"When Hayde painted those hell pictures," explained Joe, "he got a lot of tough guys to pose for him. They

got a laugh out of it, from what Hayde tells me, but, later, they must have decided that it wasn't so funny.

"Too many people are going to see those paintings and remember the faces. Important people the kind that

smart crooks might start out to swindle. Suppose some yegg gets spotted cracking a rich guy's safe. Maybe

the rich guy would recognize him as the third devil from the left in the painting of the Fourth Hell.

"The mob that blew in on Hayde wore hoods. That was so he wouldn't know who they were. The idea struck

me when I was talking with Hayde, after the robbery. He sort of remembered voices, but wasn't sure whose

Before Cardona could continue, Weston reached to the stack of reports, drew out a list of names and handed

"These are the names the men gave Hayde when he hired them as models," said the commissioner. "None of

them are in our files. The crooks, apparently, were loath to give their right names. The matter of their faces

"Phony monikers," snorted Cardona, referring to the list. "I asked Hayde what some of these fellows looked

PRODUCING the sketches, Joe passed them to Cranston. One showed a coarse face, with thick lip, and

"It looks like Cleek Dargo," declared Cardona. "He used to run a mob, back in the days when the rackets

were going strong. He's on the lam, right now, trying to dodge a murder rap. A couple of these other mugs

Studying the sketches, The Shadow calmly complimented Cardona on his progress; but Joe wasn't in a mood

to take much credit. He said that he wasn't sure about the sketches; tough guys like Cleek had a habit of

"This is where you can help us, Cranston," said Weston, sagely. "Pinewood is beyond my jurisdiction, and it

happens that I was overlooked when Humphrey Benholme sent out invitations to his reception this evening,

where he intends to show the 'Seven Hells.' I understand, however, that you are going to the reception."

The Shadow nodded, rather reluctantly. Matters were shaping as he expected, but not the way he wanted. He

"If you would call Benholme," insisted Weston, "and ask if you could bring a friend along, Inspector Cardona

The Shadow considered the proposal. Noting Cranston's reflective mood, Weston hastened to amend the

"Of course," said the commissioner, "you can tell Benholme that your friend will be a police inspector. I

Reaching for the telephone, The Shadow called Benholme and put the proposition in a manner that struck

Weston as quite blunt, considering Cranston's usual style. Unfortunately, Benholme was not at all disturbed;

Since the matter was settled, The Shadow resumed the polite manner of Cranston and invited Cardona to ride

Heavy traffic delayed the afterdinner journey to Pinewood. It was nearly nine o'clock when the car

approached the fashionable suburb. All during the ride, Cardona was asking questions about Pinewood,

The Shadow explained that Pinewood was arranged like one huge estate, but that there were twenty or more

private residences located in its wooded acreage. Wealthy men like Benholme and Merton had lived there for

years. Newer residents, like Rudler, had to obtain full approval from the others before buying property within

Nestled among rolling slopes, Pinewood was fenced off from the world by a high picket barrier that had only

a single gateway. The lone entrance was guarded by private watchmen; in fact, the entire Pinewood area was

reasonably well patrolled by special officers in the employ of the wealthy residents.

"I begin to get it," said Joe. "When I called the county authorities and asked them how safe things were at

Pinewood, they laughed. They said if crooks wanted to take another try at Hayde's paintings, it would be just

The inference was plain. Pinewood was actually a crook trap, and the county authorities knew it. But it was

obvious, too, that Cardona expected criminals to be on hand, if possible. It fitted with Joe's theory.

If hooded marauders had sought Hayde's paintings merely for their cash value, they wouldn't attempt a raid

on a place so strongly protected as Pinewood. But if they needed the paintings to save literally their own

The Shadow too, was anticipating the unusual, though he did not express that thought to Cardona. As the big

car neared the gateway of the vast estate, the silent Mr. Cranston was thinking over certain moves to be made

MEN in uniform stopped the limousine at the estate gate. They were ruggedlooking chaps, helmeted in the

style of London bobbies. One spoke to the chauffeur, then stepped to a rear window of the limousine.

Cranston's chauffeur knew the route to Benholme's. It was a good portion of a mile, along winding oneway

drives among stretches of woods and darkened lawns, where occasional houses loomed up in the thick

Apparently, not many persons were at home, which was not surprising, since Benholme had invited all his

The limousine swung around a long curve, keeping to the twentymile speed limit that Pinewood restrictions

"The showing will be over by nine fifteen," reminded Joe. "We oughtn't to waste any time getting there, Mr.

"Don't worry, inspector," returned The Shadow, calmly. "I can induce Mr. Benholme to let you see the

A jolt interrupted. The chauffeur had brought the limousine to a sudden halt. Headlights showed a large sedan

blocking the narrow road, which was scarcely more than single car width. A uniformed chauffeur was

There was no space for Cranston's limousine to pass or turn around. Impatiently, Cardona opened a door,

"I'll give that fellow a hand. Maybe your chauffeur could help us, Mr. Cranston. If we need him, I'll call him."

Cardona was pacing into the glare of the headlights. Leaning forward The Shadow watched Joe's progress.

This time, it wasn't the sort of progress that The Shadow recommended. Keen eyes could penetrate the dim

fringes of the spreading light. The Shadow saw what Cardona had failed to notice, or even guess.

There were skulkers along the edges of that glow; others beyond the halted sedan. The Shadow could make

out peering heads that looked definitely hooded. He spied stealthy, grayish figures sneaking in among the

One hand to the speaking tube, The Shadow was using the other to draw out the drawer beneath the rear seat.

His fingers gripped cloth; deftly, rapidly, he slid the cloak across his shoulders. A quick sweep of the slouch

Plucking guns from their hiding place, The Shadow slid the drawer shut with one knee, while he pressed the

A moment later, he was on the ground, shutting the door silently behind him. Skulking figures were out of

sight; they were keeping entirely to cover. So, for that matter, was The Shadow.

Again a being of blackness, he was penetrating to the heart of the Hooded Circle, ready to meet their

CARDONA'S first inkling of danger came when he reached the stooping chauffeur. Hearing Joe's approach,

the fellow looked up. His cap was tilted back, it showed a frightened sweatstreaked face. The chauffeur

Instantly, a form stepped up from the shadowy side of the sedan. A gun muzzle prodded Cardona, a growling

Joe reached. As he did, he let his head turn. He was looking at eyes that peered through slits in a cloth mask

that formed part of a grayish hood. The drooping cloth fluttered, as a raspy laugh filtered through its texture.

The Hood wasn't alone. Another was coming out of the sedan, his gun covering the scared chauffeur as it

had been, all along. A third Hood sidled in from the fringing light along the driveway. The Hood who

"Cleek said to lay back," he told the newcomer, in an ugly tone. "What's the idea, easing in too soon?"

"It ain't too soon," snorted the arrival. "Cleek's over by the big buggy already. He's taking care of the stuffed

Cardona let his eyes turn in the opposite direction. Looking past the cowering chauffeur, he saw vague gray

figures close by Cranston's limousine There was the clatter of an opening door, then a snarling demand for

Confident that they held Cardona helpless, the three Hoods let their gaze shift in the limousine's direction. A

slight quiver came from the jackedup sedan beside them; they ignored it, thinking that another of their band

Instead, a hand emerged through the open window from which a Hood had covered the chauffeur. Scarcely

discernible in the darkness, the hand descended; it landed a heavy gun solidly upon the head of the nearest

As the Hood caved, another swung about. He was met by the car door smashing outward. Already starting

forward, the Hood met the hinged barrier with his chin. The hood of the lowered mask did little to absorb the

Lifted from his feet, the Hood was flung backward; landing flat on the gravel, he rolled over and lay still.

The third Hood whipped away from the chauffeur and jabbed his gun toward the wideswung door. If he had

fired, it would not have mattered. A blackcloaked figure, stooped low, was diving to the ground outside.

Cardona didn't know it, although he guessed the identity of his rescuer. Joe had seen two Hoods crumple; he

was anxious to get the third. Flinging himself upon the charging Hood, the stocky inspector rolled the man to

Shakily, the chauffeur stumbled toward the grapplers, only to be bowled aside. He was blocking The

Wheeling into the light, The Shadow delivered a fierce laugh, the sort that crooks would understand.

Swinging flashlights told that the more distant Hoods had found the rear of the limousine empty. The Shadow

wanted to attract them before they had a chance either to threaten Stanley or take for cover.

THE Hoods answered the challenge. Seeing The Shadow weave past the rear of the sedan, they sprang to the

The Shadow let them have the honor of those first useless shots, delivered from an impossible angle. His

By then, The Shadow was across the road, fading from the glare, taking to the shelter of the trees that the

Hoods had so unwisely deserted. His bullets were driving home; the proof came when one Hood stumbled

into the shine of the headlights and took a forward sprawl. Another came slumping into sight, to be dragged

Then shots were coming from spreadout angles. A dozen in all, the graymasked foemen were trying to clip

The Shadow from better vantage spots. They were copying his tactics, taking to the trees, keeping on the

move. They were escaping bullets only because The Shadow was husbanding his shots, knowing that he

Battle was away from the space between the cars. Into that gap came Joe Cardona, dashing for the limousine,

choosing it as the proper fortress. With Joe came the rescued chauffeur, bounding like a frightened rabbit.

Cardona tried to snatch up the gun that the dead Hood had dropped, for he had been frisked of his own

revolver back by the sedan. It was a daring move, but a foolish one. Hoods grabbed Joe and the chauffeur

A streak of living blackness lunged into the new struggle. Swinging his guns like bludgeons, he sent the

Hoods dodging. This time, instead of wheeling to offer battle, he shoved Cardona and the chauffeur ahead of

They stumbled in his path. The chauffeur gave a howl as The Shadow tripped across him, to roll into

By the time The Shadow was up and turning with his guns, things had happened. One Hood had grabbed the

sprawled chauffeur, was dragging him along as a living shield to cover others who were making for the

sedan. Those others were hurriedly carrying the dead Hood who had fallen in the light.

Cardona, somehow, had managed to obtain the gun that he had sought. He was starting forward recklessly,

hoping to overtake the Hoods. Knowing that their flight was merely strategy, The Shadow hauled Joe back

and flung him into deeper safety. Then, wheeling off toward the trees, the cloaked fighter aimed for the

He was too late. They were clambering into the sedan, bundling the chauffeur with them. The human shield

served them long enough. A Hood was at the wheel, kicking the starter. The sedan sped forward leaving the

Whether or not all the Hoods were in the car did not matter. Pursuit of the sedan was most important, as it

promised capture of the main group. Shoving Cardona into the limousine, The Shadow followed, slamming

The chase was dogged. Wheeling in and around the curving drives, the sedan kept just away from range of

gunfire. Meanwhile, The Shadow was undergoing a transformation. He was divesting himself of hat and

That done, he shook Cardona, who was huddled on the floor. Joe came to life, a bit bewildered. He saw

"The Shadow!" mumbled Cardona. "He socked me, I guess. He had a right to, the way I was making a sap out

As he spoke, Joe rubbed his forehead. He had taken a sock, truly enough, but it had come from the rear fender

"Yes, it was The Shadow," came Cranston's calm, agreeing tone. "He rescued both of us, inspector. It seems

"One that I always carry," acknowledged Cranston. He flourished an automatic, masking its size with

"I'll take the window on the left then," decided Cranston. "My marksmanship is equally bad with either hand.

THE chance was at hand. The sedan was reaching a straight stretch toward the gates, having led Stanley on a

circling chase. By the glare of headlights up ahead, The Shadow and Cardona saw the watchmen at the gate.

Shots flashed from the windows of the fleeing car. The watchmen dived for shelter, one grabbing at the gate.

The others there were two of them pulled out shortbarreled revolvers, fired shots that sounded as puny

At that moment other guns began to talk from the limousine. Lefthanded, The Shadow was outdoing

Cardona, though the inspector did not know it. Cranston had disclaimed ability as a marksman, therefore Joe

The fugitive car reeled badly as it struck the road outside the gates. A few more shots from The Shadow's

automatic would have crippled it completely. Then, two things happened to spoil the chase.

Hearing shots from the second car, the watchman at the gate pulled it shut. Stanley gave the limousine a

violent swerve that carried the big car in the opposite direction from the speeding sedan. The Shadow had no

chance for more fire. Cardona was blazing away alone, wondering why he didn't get results.

Brakes shrieking, the limousine smashed into the gate, nearly taking it from its hinges. As the big car

careened and stopped, watchmen sprang toward it with their guns. Cardona yelled at them; pausing, they saw

Hastily apologizing for their mistake, the guards told Stanley to reverse the limousine, so that they could

All that required minutes. When the limousine finally started again, it had a new supply of pursuers on its

But, by then, the prey was gone. The Shadow and his companions came upon the sedan a few hundred yards

He had taken a beating from his captors. Groggily, he announced that the Hoods had abandoned the sedan

and fled in another car that had been parked a short distance farther on. The limousine's delay back at the gate

The watchmen knew the chauffeur. His name was Thaddeus, and he worked for Courtney Kelm, Pinewood's

wealthiest resident. The sedan belonged to Kelm; he had sent Thaddeus to the station to meet some friends

"They stopped me outside the gates" explained Thaddeus. "An ugly lot, they were, with gray masks on their

faces. They told me to drive back into the grounds, and not to fool about it. I tried to signal you fellows" he

The watchmen muttered epithets. They remembered when Thaddeus returned. Recognizing his car, they had

let him pass without question. With all the precautions taken to guard Pinewood, crooks had found a simple

From then on, the chauffeur's story fitted with what The Shadow and Cardona had seen. Thaddeus said that

the Hoods had made him stop the sedan and jack up the rear wheel, to pretend that he had a puncture.

He hadn't been able to figure what it was all about, until the limousine came along. By that time, the Hoods

had spread out; but one was still in the car, keeping Thaddeus covered, making him behave.

Cardona wanted to ask more questions, for he was anxious to steal a march on the local authorities by being

the first to probe the case. Joe stopped when he heard Cranston's quiet reminder:

Remembering Hayde's paintings, regarding them as more important than ever, Cardona hurriedly joined

Cranston in the limousine. The car headed back through the gates; at Cranston's suggestion, Stanley ignored

Cardona thought that the added speed was on his account. Again, Joe was wrong. The Shadow had a more

important reason for the order. Beneath his evening clothes he was secretly reloading the brace of automatics,

Again The Shadow had encountered crime; but he did not share Cardona's opinion that the thrust was over.

Instead, he felt that it had just begun. The Shadow was looking forward to another meeting with the Hooded

UNDISTURBED by the remote strife that had taken place within the Pinewood area, the guests at

The famous "Seven Hells" were on display in a long, low room that Humphrey Benholme called a gallery.

Centered in huge gilded frames, they formed an array of scenes that were like snatches from a madman's

Each painting measured about four feet in each direction. Each showed a portion of a strange inferno, where

tormented creatures writhed under various tortures, in which flame played a leading part. Devils formed a

supporting cast, and their faces, varicolored by the firelight, were marked by gleeful expressions.

All figures were distorted. The unhappy looks of the writhing souls made them as difficult to identify as the

gloating demons. Benholme's friends were impressed, as they viewed the contrast of agony and malice. As

they went from painting to painting, they observed that each new hell represented a far more hideous inferno

Humphrey Benholme, a portly, baldish man, was walking along the line of paintings pointing them out as

proudly as if he were the artist. Behind him came a stoopshouldered, glumlooking man who stopped

At times, Ackley looked about at different servants posted along the gallery, to make sure that they were on

Other men began to talk to Benholme. One was Courtney Kelm, a bulky, prepossessing man with a voice as

big as his frame. Beside him was a quiet, grayhaired individual who smiled in amusement while Kelm

The smiling man was Wilmer Merton, Marjorie's father. He was amused because Benholme and Kelm rated

works of art in terms of cash alone. Kelm claimed that the "Seven Hells" couldn't be worth more than fifteen

thousand dollars, because that was all that Benholme had paid for them. Contrarily, Benholme argued that he

"Not to me," boomed Kelm, emphatically. "I demand to see previous bills of sale on everything I buy. When

Hayde gets to be a topnotcher, I'll have him do some paintings for me then. Maybe I'll pay more than you

did, Benholme, but the newer stuff will be better. It will be worth what I pay."

"I'll have plenty of bids for the 'Seven Hells,'" assured Benholme, wisely. "Confidentially, Kelm"

Benholme's voice dropped to an undertone "Hayde wasn't satisfied with the price I paid him. But I gave

him cash in advance and put him under contract to deliver. If Hayde still owned those paintings, he wouldn't

Benholme's undertone was justified. Dustin Hayde stood a short distance away, watching people view the

"Seven Hells"; but if Hayde was glum, he did not show it. On the contrary, he seemed to be enjoying the

fame that was his. Hayde's sallow face beamed brightly every time a person stopped to compliment him.

NEAR the doorway, Marjorie Merton was talking to Norton Rudler. Attired in a golden evening gown, the

Like Hayde, Marjorie had been receiving congratulations. They had begun at dinner, when Hayde had

generously given Marjorie more credit than himself in fighting off the marauders the night before.

"Frankly," she said, "I was terribly frightened. But when I come to remember it, I realize that I was most

"Yes," replied Marjorie. "Just after you left the studio. I was in the dressing room, changing my clothes, and I

"I was practically undressed. Otherwise, I think I would have fled by the window. I felt dreadfully helpless,

until I put on the Grecian costume. Perhaps" Marjorie smiled at the recollection "the spear and shield

helped me get back my nerve. I almost imagined that I was Lysistrata. She was pretty brave, wasn't she?"

"No braver than yourself," complimented Rudler. His eyes roved across the room toward Hayde. "Odd,

"Hayde had been getting them all day," reminded Marjorie. "He told me so, later. Unquestionably, the crooks

The explanation didn't seem to entirely convince Rudler. He was still watching Hayde, studying the artist

intently, when Marjorie gestured toward the paintings, made sweeping motion of her arm and said:

"Not precisely," returned Rudler letting his gaze turn away from Hayde. "'Hideous' would be a better term."

"I don't mean the paintings," laughed Marjorie. "I was thinking of those awful gilt frames."

As he made the comment, Rudler eyed Marjorie from head to foot. The girl laughed again, realizing that her

slippers, gown and hair were the goldenhue that she had just derided. Still, she didn't like the gilt frames.

"Hayde must have bought them cheaply somewhere," she said to Rudler. "Maybe he put the paintings in them

just to insult Mr. Benholme. I can't blame him, the way Mr. Benholme is strutting around. He acts as if he

At that moment, Ackley was approaching Benholme. The dour butler held up a watch and tapped the dial.

"The exhibition is over," declared Benholme, pompously. "It is time to close the gallery."

While the rest were filing out, Benholme stood by watching Ackley straighten the frames, some of which

were tilted. After making a final survey of the "Seven Hells," Benholme looked to the ends of the gallery.

The windows were barred, their strength seemed to satisfy him. Benholme motioned Ackley out through the

Standing by the closed door, Benholme counted his servants, including Ackley. All were present in the

hallway. He told them to go out and keep watch around the house. Then, to impress his guests, Benholme

"We are taking every precaution tonight. I can assure you that no one will disturb us. Your studio would have

been quite safe, Hayde" Benholme clapped the artist on the shoulder "if you could have afforded the

A telephone bell was ringing while Benholme spoke. Ackley answered it, talked in a low, serious tone.

Approaching Benholme, the butler buzzed in the portly man's ear. Benholme's face beamed. He wasn't

"Just what I said!" he boasted. "Ackley tells me that there has been trouble within the grounds. Crooks

managed to pass through the gates probably on their way to this house. But don't worry" Benholme spread

his hands wide, to quiet the startled exclamations of the guests "because all of them were driven off!"

A CAR was pulling up in front of the house. Ackley hastened toward the door, while other servants started

outside. All were drawing revolvers and a panic started to sweep the more nervous guests. Benholme again

"It is my friend Lamont Cranston," he stated. "The call that we just received came from the gatehouse.

Ackley tells me that Cranston helped to drive off the marauders. Cranston deserves congratulations, and so

Few of the guests were surprised when Cardona entered. Most of them had dined at Benholme's, with Hayde

as the guest of honor. Benholme had mentioned that Commissioner Weston was sending his ace inspector out

to Pinewood, to have a look at the "Seven Hells." As for Cranston, he was well acquainted in Pinewood; his

Calm of expression, Cranston's hawklike features betrayed no signs of recent excitement. Cardona was as

pokerfaced as usual, but Joe wasn't able to curb his eagerness entirely. Fresh from battle, he had experienced

enough delay. Forgetting that he was outside his own bailiwick, Cardona announced gruffly:

"I want to see those paintings, Mr. Benholme, right away. I know the man who's in back of this mob stuff.

He's Cleek Dargo. Some of his crew spilled his name while we were fighting them off. But a name isn't

"I'd know Cleek's mug if I saw it. I'm going to look for it in one of those 'Seven Hells.' When I find it, we'll

have a photographer take a picture. That will give us the goods on Cleek. It will prove that he was in on

Obligingly, Benholme produced his key. He started to unlock the gallery door, only to be interrupted by

"There's something amiss outside, sir," began Ackley. "I think Inspector Cardona ought to have a look. The

servants say that they saw persons prowling among the guest cars that are parked on the other side of the

"Nonsense, Ackley!" snapped Benholme. "Probably some of the chauffeurs were going back to the cars."

"The chauffeurs are all in the kitchen, sir," protested Ackley. "I counted them when I came through."

With this decision, Benholme turned to unlock the gallery door. Ackley looked appealingly toward Cardona,

but the latter was in no mood to side with him. Joe wanted to see the paintings worse than Benholme did.

The door came wide. Stepping across the threshold, Benholme pressed a light switch. A glow filled the

gallery, with special lights gleaming from above the gilded frames. Benholme did not look across the room;

"There are the paintings, inspector. Just as we all viewed them five minutes ago."

Cardona was staring, very queerly. So were others Kelm, Merton, and a few who had pressed toward the

entrance. Only one pair of eyes was steady and unperturbed, as they gazed at the amazing thing that all the

others saw. Those steady eyes were The Shadow's, set in the impenetrable face of Cranston.

Half amazed by the gapes that he saw, Benholme turned about. A moment later he was staring, too, more

bewildered than the rest. To Benholme, the last man who left the gallery after the paintings had been viewed,

All were staring at blank frames; through those squares of gilt they could see the wall beyond. The "Seven

Hells" were gone, vanished as completely as if some Satanic master had visited the tightlocked room, to

take away those pictured tokens of his realm. The heavy frames yawned their message of utter mystery.

Crime had struck anew, this time with success. Where tumult and strife had failed to win, some silent

subterfuge had enabled crooks to gain the prizes that they sought. The Hooded Circle had staged that startling

FOR prolonged seconds, no one stirred. Benholme, his fat face widened to twice its ample proportions, was a

fair sample of others who stood beside him. Merton and Kelm were flabbergasted, while Joe Cardona,

Ackley, the butler, was making funny motions with his lips, like a fish out of water, while Hayde, attracted by

the scene in the doorway, had drawn close, to squint past the shoulders of the others.

Too far away to see the barren frames, Marjorie and Rudler first noticed the expression on Hayde's face. Both

recognized that something must have happened. They started forward, anxious for a look into the gallery.

Unlike the rest, The Shadow let his eyes rove from the line of vacant frames. He sped a glance to one end of

the gallery, then the other. An instant later, the leisurely Mr. Cranston had become a human dynamo. Tails of

his evening jacket flying wide, The Shadow whirled halfway into the gallery, past startled men like

Flinging full about with both arms wide, he flung himself bodily upon the group, bowling them backward

before they could resist. The Shadow didn't include Joe Cardona in his sweep; the doorway was too wide. But

Recognizing that such swiftness from the lackadaisical Cranston was sure proof of impending danger,

Cardona hurled his own weight upon the staggering group. A flood of sprawling bodies reached Hayde and

Ackley, who were standing farther back, carried artist and butler ahead of them.

Rudler was just in time to drag Marjorie from that human tidal wave, while other guests dived in alarm along

the hallway. Even as figures were floundering along the floor, the thing happened that The Shadow had

A sharp explosion ripped from the rear of the gallery. The blast was echoed by the shatter of glass, the clatter

of stone. Vivid light flashed from the doorway, as brilliant as the hellish flames depicted in Hayde's stolen

The Shadow had seen a bomb fizzing on the floor, just within the rear window of the gallery. Someone had

jimmied that window from the outside, to thrust the bomb through, only a few moments before Benholme

No one was injured by the blast, for all were safely in the hallway. The rear wall of the gallery was badly

wrecked; cracks appeared along the wall facing the doorway. Some of the empty frames were jarred from the

wall; they clattered to the floor, but did not break. The rest were tilted askew, forming an irregular line.

Coming to his feet, Cardona looked toward Cranston, who was still on hands and knees. The Shadow gave a

nod, signifying that danger was past, Joe promptly sprang into the gallery, drawing a revolver. Beyond the

gaping wall, with its mass of twisted window bars, Cardona saw vague, scurrying figures of gray.

"The Hoods!" bawled Cardona. "They've doubled back! Follow me anybody that can help! The rest of you

Ackley yanked open a side door, yelled out to the patrolling servants. Cardona bolted through; close behind

him came Cranston, first to accept Joe's invitation. Others Benholme, Kelm and Rudler grabbed

Already, guns were shooting. Stabs in the dark marked a battle between Benholme's servants and the Hoods.

Evidently the servants hadn't reached the wall in back of the gallery before the blast went off, but the

Cardona, firing for something in gray, heard a gun fire close by his ear. Joe thought that his own shot had

clipped a fleeing Hood, that one of Benholme's servants had fired the extra shot.

He didn't realize that Cranston was close beside him; that the commissioner's friend had actually staggered

the Hood. Cardona went after the crippled man in gray, as the fellow stumbled past the nearest of the parked

Then, Cardona was lurched leftward hitting the ground between two cars just as guns tongued toward the spot

where he had been. Joe didn't guess who had tripped him; again, it happened to be the everpresent Cranston.

The Shadow had seen what the Hoods were after. They were making for the guest cars, to stage a getaway.

LEAVING Cardona to discover that for himself, The Shadow reached his own limousine. He went in one

door as Cranston, spoke a few words to Stanley; come out the opposite door guised as The Shadow.

Stanley understood the quietspoken words. Cranston didn't want the limousine to join in the chase. The

Springing out, Stanley met Cardona, who was coming toward him. Flashing a light, Cardona identified

Cranston's chauffeur. Someone was coming up to them; turning, Joe saw Ackley. Excitedly, the butler

"Mr. Benholme is bringing his own car from the garage!" voiced Ackley. "Come quickly, and we can go

At that moment, motors were roaring from the far side of the small parking area. There wasn't time to block

the Hoods before they started. Beckoning to Stanley, Cardona hurried after Ackley when the butler headed

Cardona was almost right when he guessed that the Hoods could not be blocked off. They were getting away

in three borrowed cars which guests hadn't bothered to lock, thinking that Benholme's parking space was a

People from the house saw those automobiles spurt along the drive noted that the men in the second car were

fumbling with a burden. There were yells that the paintings were in the second sedan, but that was an error.

Rolled flat, the paintings could pack easily on the floor; and the first car was the logical one to carry any

The burden in the second sedan was the Hood that The Shadow had wounded. His shot was the only one that

Behind the sedans, a third car was getting started. It was a coupe, containing three Hoods left over from the

rest. Two were in the front, one was crouching low in the rumble seat, as the coupe jerked out from a mass of

silent cars. The man at the wheel swerved the coupe toward the drive, preferring a sharp swing to a wide turn.

A sixfoot shaft of blackness arrowed from the gloom, reached the coupe's step with one long leap and struck

the driver like a thunderbolt. The hand that drove inward with pistonlike force carried a heavy automatic in its

That weight, added to the power of the punch, lifted the driver out from behind the wheel so forcibly that he

would have crashed the door on the other side, if another Hood had not been in between. As it was The

Shadow's driving stroke crammed the second Hood between his pal and the door. One was totally out of

Grabbing the wheel with his left hand, The Shadow tried to straighten the careening coupe, while he poked

Ordinarily the fellow would have cowered, but he didn't have the chance. The car bounced over a curb that

ran along the drive; the jounce brought the Hood from the rumble seat like a springing jackinthebox.

Governed by sheer desperation, the Hood launched for The Shadow, fists foremost, just as the cloaked fighter

fired. The shot missed the Hood's masked face by inches, for The Shadow's aim went wide as the coupe

Then two figures, one cloaked, the other robed, were rolling on the gravel as the coupe bumped a tree a dozen

THE Hood had luck. Flung far by The Shadow, he struck an embankment and came automatically to his feet.

Right in front of him, he saw a roadster sliding into the driveway, a girl at the wheel. Barehanded, the Hood

grabbed for the cloth of a golden evening gown, yanked the girl bodily from her car.

It was Marjorie Merton, joining the chase on her own. Valiantly, she struggled, while the Hood tried to pull a

gun from the side pocket of his robe. Then The Shadow was upon them. Wrenching the Hood away, he flung

The other two Hoods were out of the coupe; one shoved his groggy pal into Marjorie's roadster. The Shadow

aimed for them and jabbed shots, but the volley went wide. Marjorie, too frantic to realize that The Shadow

was a friend, had grabbed for his gun arm and was yanking it downward as he fired.

Twisting about, The Shadow settled that silly interference. He caught Marjorie's sleeveless shoulder with his

free hand, hooked his gun fist in back of her free ankle and applied the leverage of a jujitsu toss.

Marjorie screeched as she somersaulted backward; her breath left her when she struck the soft turf of the

The roadster was away, two Hoods inside it, the third man on the running board at the right, aiming

pointblank at The Shadow. The fellow had the vantage, thanks to his crouched position on the far side. Rather

than try to beat him to the shot, The Shadow took a quicker aim that served as well.

Firing for the left side of the car, The Shadow whistled a bullet past the driver. Though the man was safe

behind the wheel, he instinctively shoved the accelerator and gave the car a jerk. Jolted, the Hood on the

opposite running board fired wide and high. He tried to get in a second shot; too late.

It was The Shadow's turn. He stabbed a message that brought results. The bullet clipped the aiming Hood,

almost toppled him from his perch. A hand from within the car grabbed the wounded thug, and held him

there, while the roadster took the bend. The fleeing Hoods heard a weird laugh trail after them, a warning that

Marjorie recognized that laugh, realized who The Shadow was. She was lying face downward on the top of

the embankment, entangled in the folds of a golden gown that had proven itself quite unsuited for her

Her chin propped on the edge of the bank, Marjorie stared through the fluff of hair that strewed across her

eyes. She saw The Shadow leap into the forgotten coupe, jerk it backward from the tree, and start in pursuit

Other cars were in the chase; Benholme cut in ahead of The Shadow carrying Cardona, Stanley, and Ackley

as his pursuit crew. His car was fast, but Benholme handled it too gingerly. He was losing ground, and

Other cars were coming up in back, all anxious to lead the chase, but none could get ahead along those

Staccato shots were sounding, farther along. Passing different mansions, the pursuers were urged on by

shouting servants, who had rallied like Minute Men in response to telephone calls from Benholme's house.

Then came the gates. Two cars blocked it one was a stolen sedan, the other, Marjorie's roadster. Staggering

watchmen came into the glare of oncoming headlights, waving their gunless hands.

They gasped their story. They had tried to fight the crooks, only to be slugged down by overwhelming

numbers. They'd gotten a few shots in, before their guns were snatched from them, but they hadn't done much

Some servants had already reached here, the watchmen said. They were men who had taken short cuts across

from Benholme's and other houses, bringing guns. A few of them had pursued the Hoods on foot when the

whole mob had fled in the first car, leaving the other vehicles to block the gates.

Cardona, acting as leader of the pursuers, decided to use the same system. He started out through the gates,

followed by a sizable throng. More servants were arriving, by car and on foot, and many of them had

NOT far outside the grounds, they met the first servants, returning. The advance squad had found the sedan,

abandoned a quarter mile away, its tires riddled with bullets. The Hoods had obviously transferred to waiting

The servants had shot it out with the Hoods just beyond the gates, while the sedan was rattling along on its

Two servants were dead, a third was dying. Their fellows were bringing in the bodies; they paused to prop the

Courtney Kelm stepped forward, stared at the bloodstreaked face of Thaddeus, his chauffeur. Fists clenched,

"Thaddeus was game!" he boomed. "Those fiends had it in for him, because he escaped them once tonight.

He had nerve enough to go after them again, and this is what resulted. I'll offer any reward to track down

Kelm's tone had risen to a bellow. Its fury stirred Thaddeus. The man's eyes opened; his teeth clenched tight,

Thaddeus glared around the group as though expecting to see the slitted masks of the Hooded Circle. Then,

"The Hoods!" he gasped. "I... I can tell you... how to find them. They... they "

The lifted head buckled backward. Thaddeus sank into the arms of the soberfaced men who supported him.

Whatever he had learned about the Hoods through his experiences with them, was something that the

chauffeur would never tell. Kelm's booming tone was subdued, as he pronounced the word:

Flashlights showed many faces looking down at the dead visage of Thaddeus. Faces tinged with many

emotions with the exception of one, which remained masklike. It was the face of Lamont Cranston.

The procession headed through the gates. Walking back alone to the coupe, where he had left his hat and

cloak when he joined the party, The Shadow indulged in a low, whispered laugh. The repressed tone was

The Shadow was foreseeing crime to come. He had linked the facts he needed. They were enough to promise

BATTLE with the Hoods had somewhat cleared the mystery of the robbery at Benholme's, but not enough to

suit Inspector Joe Cardona. The facts, as most people accepted them, were that crooks had blasted away the

rear window of Benholme's gallery, taking part of the wall with it, and thereby made their getaway with the

But that didn't solve the major portion of the problem. It was the time element that had Cardona completely

Someone must have entered first and cut the paintings from their frames. Frayed edges of canvas, along the

inner edges of the frames, were evidence that such a method had been used. Cardona couldn't understand how

Plenty of persons could testify that Benholme was the last man out, that the "Seven Hells" had been in their

frames when he locked the door. Intruders couldn't have pried the heavy bars from the window during the

five minutes or so before Benholme unlocked the door again, for Cardona's benefit.

Maybe someone had managed to stay in the room and get the paintings out to the others; but that didn't quite

make sense. No suspicious characters had been inside the house. Furthermore, the man in question would

Seeking to make the impossible sound possible, Cardona finally decided that crooks must have loosened the

bars previous to the robbery, but left them in a faked condition which appeared normal.

That would allow for someone entering by the window as soon as Benholme locked the door. The marauder

might have had time to get out again, fix the bars back in position and drop the bomb through for the blast.

One listener heard Cardona's theories without a smile. That listener was Cranston. The Shadow recognized a

flaw that Cardona overlooked; namely, why crooks had bothered with a bomb at all if they had already fixed

The Shadow could have brought up that point, had he so chosen, but he preferred to let Cardona's notion

If false theories were accepted, the Hooded Circle would proceed with other moves that The Shadow

expected. He wanted those criminals to show their hands; the more of them, the better.

There was another reason why Cranston did not smile. He had been wounded in the battle with the Hoods. He

didn't mention the fact until he had called his own physician, Dr. Rupert Sayre, and summoned him to

The result of the physician's visit was twofold. Cranston appeared with his arm in a sling and Sayre insisted

that he remain in Pinewood until his wound improved. As a result, Cranston became a guest at Benholme's

During the night, some county deputies patrolled the Pinewood preserves, particularly the grounds around the

Benholme mansion. They solved the question of how the Hoods had come into the grounds a second time.

The watchmen at the gate remembered that a caterer's truck had gone into the grounds. Probably the Hoods

The truck was still around. The deputies grilled the driver half the night, with Cardona offering suggestions.

He didn't remember any time when unwanted passengers could have gotten into the truck. Still, he conceded

that they might have managed it. His frankness finally convinced the grillers that he, at least, was innocent.

IN the morning, Cardona made a thorough inspection of Benholme's gallery, tapping the walls, sounding the

After the useless picture frames had been stowed in the cellar, along with a lot of oldfashioned furniture,

Cardona decided to go back to New York. Before starting, he visited Cranston, who was spending the day in

"The local boys can worry over things here," declared Cardona. "I've got the lead I want. The man to find is

"There's no use looking for the "Seven Hells,'" continued Cardona. "Cleek won't try to peddle them while he

and his bunch have their mugs in the paintings. They'll have to change them first."

"I figure the same," agreed Joe. "Cleek will have to fence them somewhere a long way from the U. S. A., if

"No," returned Cardona. "He thinks he'll be safer here. Benholme has invited him to stay a while. Hayde's

scared of Cleek, and I don't blame him. Anyway, if Hayde went to New York he would be just another

headache for me, because I'd have to look out for his safety. Well, so long, Mr. Cranston. Anything you want

"You might call Vincent for me," he said, in Cranston's deliberate style. "Harry Vincent, at the Hotel

Metrolite. He used to be my secretary and I might need him while I'm here. Ask him to come out. I'll arrange

As the day progressed, an atmosphere of gloom increased over Pinewood. The death of Thaddeus and two

other servants was a hard thing to forget. It was talked about in many quarters, among employers as well as

Courtney Kelm announced a fivethousanddollar reward for information leading to the arrest of the

Humphrey Benholme offered a similar sum for the restoration of the stolen paintings intact. Such news

All morning, she had been parading around in the Lysistrata costume, because Hayde had telephoned and

insisted that he wanted to go ahead with the painting which he had arranged to do in Pinewood.

At noon, Hayde hadn't shown up. Some of Marjorie's friends dropped in, all smartly attired for an outing.

They left without her, after asking if her Grecian garb was the latest style in bathing suits.

At three o'clock, Marjorie changed to other clothes, deciding that she would go on an outing of her own. But

when she tried to borrow her father's car, because her roadster was being repaired, she learned that he was

going out. He told her, too, that Hayde had called, to say that he would be over very soon.

Back in her own room, Marjorie was listlessly completing another change to the Grecian costume when her

Therese informed her that Mr. Hayde had telephoned again, and would like to talk to her. Marjorie promptly

When Therese hesitated, Marjorie snatched off the sandals and flung them. The first hit Therese in the jaw,

the other smacked the door as the maid slammed it. Disposing of the Grecian robe in one furious rip, Marjorie

Her fury unspent, she yanked open a closet and began to fling all the clothes that she could find, just so that

The thing that halted her frenzy was a riding habit that she hadn't worn for months. About to throw it,

Marjorie calmed, impressed by a real idea. She wouldn't need a car to go places. She could borrow one of the

GETTING dressed again was no longer a bother, for the riding clothes were an inducement. Ten minutes

later, Marjorie was fully attired. She spent a while longer replacing scattered clothes in the closet.

Picking up the Grecian robe and sandals, Marjorie started downstairs. Meeting Therese in the hallway, she

"Put these in the ash can," said Marjorie, very sweetly. "If it needs a lid, use the shield. The spear will make

A brisk tenminute walk brought Marjorie to Kelm's stable. The head groom obligingly supplied a faithful

horse named Bolivar, and Marjorie cantered off toward the bridle paths. Soon, she was riding through the

As she rode, Marjorie realized the vast acreage that Pinewood covered. It was like a little world in itself, with

many spots that were almost unexplored. She wondered why crooks had been so anxious to flee from the

grounds the night before. If they had really known anything about Pinewood, they could have found safer

By dusk, Marjorie decided it was time to head homeward. Off in the distance, she saw flashes of lightning,

heard thunder rumbles that indicated an approaching storm. She spurred Bolivar forward, the horse stumbled

suddenly, where a brook crossed the bridle path. Scaling across the steed's head, Marjorie landed very solidly

When she arose, Marjorie found she had a limp, and so did Bolivar. She led the horse along the bridle path,

over a mile that wearied her the farther she went, for the ground had grown very dark. Occasional lightning

flashes helped very little for the increased thunder told that the storm was closer.

Real alarm gripped Marjorie when she realized that the storm might soon be upon her. Then, through the

woods, she saw the lights of a house. She didn't realize where she was until she neared the doorway.

It was Rudler's house, a graystone structure built in old English style. Marjorie reached the portico just as

the rain began to sprinkle. Tethering Bolivar under the shelter, she rapped the big iron knocker.

Rudler opened the door in person. He was surprised, at first, when he saw Marjorie; when he heard of her

adventures, he became amused. Shaking up cocktails, he poured one for his guest; then, with a smile,

"Servants' night off," reminded Rudler, "in accordance with the Pinewood custom. I'm driving over to town to

Marjorie decided that she would love it. She went to the kitchen and started the preliminary work, telling

Rudler to hurry his trip to the store. Marjorie heard Rudler's car speed out by the driveway. Finishing her

At the doorway, she paused startled by a sudden blaze of lightning. She stood there, riveted, even after the

terrific burst of a thunderclap had ended. In that blinding instant, Marjorie had seen a face peering in through

Lightning flashed again; the face was gone. But it was etched vividly in Marjorie's mind, for it was a face she

could identify, although she had never before seen it show such a Satanic expression.

The face that had appeared, then vanished, was the sallow visage of the artist, Dustin Hayde!

EITHER Hayde had trailed Marjorie here, or he was spying on Rudler. Marjorie remembered how

suspiciously Hayde had eyed Rudler that night at the studio. The thought struck her that many of Hayde's

previous actions had been an absolute sham. Instinctively, she linked the artist with the run of recent crime.

Things had started at Hayde's studio. Trouble had followed the artist to Pinewood. Hayde's pretense that he

was a target of criminals might be a subterfuge. To Marjorie, at that moment, he became a man deepdyed in

Springing to the window, the girl caught another sight of Hayde amid a glare of lightning. He was moving

along the drive, not too hastily. He had seen that Rudler was not at home, but it wasn't likely that he had

Gripped by new impulse for adventure, Marjorie forgot the storm along with her promise to dine with Rudler.

Thunder and lightning did not matter, a meal could wait. This was her chance to amend her bungling of the

She had lost the trail of fleeing crooks after that trouble at Benholme's, but she was confident that she could

Finding the kitchen door, Marjorie stepped out into the rain and groped in the direction where she had last

Again, the lightning guided her. It showed a stooped man sliding between bushes on the opposite side of the

roadway. Hayde, again, picking a path that would not be difficult to trace. Without an instant's hesitation,

Chance had given the girl this trail. She felt that she would be equal to any situation that it might produce.

But Marjorie Merton could not even have imagined the amazing things that she would witness along that

IT was all quite logical, at first. As Marjorie sighted Hayde at intervals, she checked on his direction, knew

that he was taking the most direct route to Benholme's, which was where he belonged, as a guest.

But when he passed the ruins of an old mansion, Hayde took a roundabout route. At first, Marjorie wondered

Hayde didn't know these grounds as well as she did. They had reached the old Grimshaw estate, which had

been forgotten and neglected ever since the house burned down, a dozen years ago. Hayde was keeping to a

path that circled a wooded valley, but it was possible to take a direct course through the hollow itself.

The straight route went through the Druid Glen, one of Grimshaw's fancies. Marjorie remembered the place

well, because she had played there as a child. In recent years, no one ever bothered to visit the old glen.

Starting down the slope, Marjorie decided that trip through the glen would enable her to cut down Hayde's

lead, and meanwhile the artist wouldn't know that he was being trailed. It seemed a very grand idea, until she

Then a flash of lightning made her shiver. It wasn't the jagged light that frightened her; it was the sight that

Hemmed in by trees, the place looked very lonely. Yet its solitude seemed peopled by creatures of fancy. For

there were shapes standing in the glen huge masses of rough stone set on end, forming a spectral circle.

Those eightfoot blocks had never worried Marjorie before. But she recalled that she and other children had

always visited the glen in the daytime. They had pretended, one summer, that the great, crudefashioned

Then parents had warned the children against the Druid Glen, probably fearing that one of the heavy blocks

might tip over. Nurses had aided the cause by filling children's minds with fearful tales of strange sprites that

Marjorie hadn't believed those stories; she was too old at the time. But her father had looked up references to

Druids in his library, and told her what little was known about them. Somehow, fact had inspired more awe

The stones were called megalithic monuments. Each great block was a monolith, the entire circle was

sometimes termed a cromlech. Farther away was a solitary stone that represented the "Friar's Heel," for

Grimshaw, a student of ancient rites, had patterned the cromlech somewhat after the famous Stonehenge

Marjorie's father had bought Grimshaw's books. He had read her some of the marginal references, which

mentioned midsummer celebrations held by the Druids. They burned bonfires, Marjorie learned, to summon

up the shades of their longdead comrades. According to Druid tradition, every cromlech was an abode of

Approaching through the darkness, Marjorie felt her shudders increase. Wind was whispering from the trees

surrounding the glen. The sound was like ghostly voices, warning her away. Suddenly wishing to avoid the

glen, Marjorie turned half about, to await another flash of lightning that would guide her up the side slope.

Lightning streaked the sky. It outlined a structure on the hillside the old watch tower that Grimshaw had built.

It took a heavy roar of thunder to drown the shriek that Marjorie's lips yielded.

It could have been Hayde, for his path had led him past the tower. Fearful that the artist might have tricked

her and turned the trail the other way, Marjorie reversed her course and stumbled toward the Druid stones.

Tripping, she fell against a monolith, the touch of the cold, rainsoaked stone chilled her.

She faced the hill again. When lightning flashed, she saw the tower, but there was no one on the summit. The

disappearance of the figure jarred her thoughts to the night before. Remembering a strange black fighter who

had rescued her on two occasions, Marjorie realized that the weird watcher could have been The Shadow!

Fears vanished. Unquestionably, if Hayde were a criminal, The Shadow would also be on his trail. Gifted

with fresh nerve, Marjorie tripped her way into the Druid circle, then shrank back as a flare of light appeared

It wasn't lightning. It was the flame of a bonfire kindled suddenly, in the very center of the cromlech. As

Marjorie flattened against a monolith, she saw that there was a circle within the ring of stones. A circle of

All were clad in grayish robes, with cloth masks covering their faces. This cromlech was the meeting place of

the Hooded Circle, the murderous criminals who had supposedly fled the night before!

THEY numbered more than a dozen, like the surrounding stones that inclosed the sinister scene.

Beyond the fire stood one who served them as their leader; his background was the oddshaped stone known

as the Friar's Heel. He spoke. Marjorie could hear his lowthroated tone rumbling from covered lips.

That forced voice could be Hayde's. It might belong to anyone for that matter. Despite her predicament,

She realized that Hayde's course around the little valley could hare been a measure to lead followers away

from the glen. By cutting down through a gully, he might easily have reached the cromlech ahead of

But the voice revealed nothing. It merely promised Marjorie a chance to identify the hooded leader later.

"Again we have assembled," pronounced the grated tone, "to declare the loyalty of every member in our

circle. Before we remove our masks, I shall display the symbol of my leadership."

Reaching to a tree that fringed the nearest monolith, the hooded leader plucked away a small bough. He

advanced to the fire, dipped the branch of evergreen into a cauldron that bubbled on the flames. When he

"Who holds the golden bough," declared the Hood in his deep, harsh voice, "shall be master. Let anyone who

challenges such authority step forward and wrest the bough from the hand that bears it!"

There were no takers from the crowd of Hoods. Either they feared their chief, or were satisfied with his

Flaunting the bough in the circle of masked faces, the leader finally lowered it in one hand, while his other

Powder, trickling from his fist struck the flames, as the hand performed dabs above them. Firelight sparkled

in many vivid colors reminding Marjorie of the pictured flames portrayed in Hayde's pictures of the "Seven

Steam issued from the cauldron. Waving the golden bough, the leader drew away. As he flung the last sprays

of powder, flames became lurid, exploding with little puffs. Clouded vapor from the steaming cauldron

Forgetting the brilliance of the firelight, Marjorie moved forward. She didn't care about the Hoods who were

closer; their faces didn't matter. One glimpse of the leader was all she needed. But she failed to gain it.

Marjorie heard a harsh snarl, louder than the cauldron's hiss. As steam wavered, giving her a view beyond the

Eyes, glistening fiendishly from the firelight, were staring straight toward the girl through the mask's slits.

Hoods flung themselves about, their masks falling into place. Before Marjorie could twist away, they were

upon her. Stifling her screams, they hauled the girl toward the leader, whose bough pointed toward the

As hands left Marjorie's mouth, she screamed, only to have her outcry smothered by pungent, overpowering

Though she couldn't shriek, Marjorie still had strength to struggle. Her fight was brief, for the Hoods kept

forcing her above the cauldron. In one gasp, Marjorie inhaled a large supply of vapor. Reeling dizzily, she

would have fallen toward the flames if hands had not clutched her. She was breathing the fumes again, and

Marjorie lay senseless in the hands that gripped her. At a command from their chief, the Hoods lifted her and

The leader tilted the cauldron, its liquid poured upon the fire, extinguishing all but a few flames. Another

Hood removed the cauldron; the leader beat out the last embers with the golden bough, which he tossed upon

DARKNESS hid the strange procession as it zigzagged from the glen. Four Hoods were carrying Marjorie;

the rest were deployed acting as guards. The leader had either become a member of the throng, or gone his

But there was another figure in that darkness one that was moving in upon the irregular column of Hoods.

The lone challenger was cloaked in black; he came from a path that made a route between the hillside watch

Too distant to witness the ceremony of the golden bough, and Marjorie's capture, The Shadow had at least

moved in soon enough to note that some of the Hoods were carrying a helpless prisoner. He was working his

Blinks of flashlights helped The Shadow. The storm had passed, but the sky was still heavily clouded, and the

Hoods were having difficulty picking their path. The darkness was exactly what The Shadow wanted; then,

suddenly, it was dispelled by a brilliant sheet of lightning that came like a farewell from the departed storm.

There were shouts from deployed Hoods. They had seen The Shadow in that flash, for the sky had

momentarily become a brilliant background. Flashlights vanished; gun spurts replaced them. The Hoods were

Their aim had venom, but it lacked accuracy. The Shadow hadn't stayed in one place. His onegun jabs were

proof. They came from one spot, then another, directed at the telltale spots where Hoods had fired, foolishly

Howls were coming from the darkness; above them rose the fierce mockery of The Shadow's laugh, rising in

a challenging crescendo. The taunt seemed to come from everywhere, The Shadow's shots from anywhere.

When Hoods, now on the move, took aim at one spot, they were always answered by a jab from another

place. Sometimes The Shadow's spurts flashed high above the ground, at others, close to it. Always, they

One feeble sheet of lightning gave the Hoods a glimpse of him, but he wasn't close enough to reach. The

Shadow was wheeling off to a new vantage shot, prepared to nick more of the Hoods. The odds were actually

his, not theirs or would have been except for a catastrophe that struck the cloaked fighter.

It came in the shape of a flinging form that had cut in behind The Shadow. The lightning flash was all that the

attacker needed. Forceful in drive, he caught the cloaked fighter in the middle of a twist and bowled him to

Hoods heard the struggle, turned flashlights toward the spot. They saw The Shadow, flattened by a foe. The

attacker wasn't dressed as a Hood, but his actions were quite as venomous as those of the robed crew.

Looking up from the ground, The Shadow saw the face of his attacker. He recognized the glaring, gloating

SHOTS encouraged Hayde as the Hoods came piling forward, expecting to deliver the finishing touches

themselves. Then Hayde came flinging upward from the ground, lifted by a pair of driving legs, hurled

Two Hoods led the throng. That pair were met by the human projectile that The Shadow had catapulted in

their direction. They staggered back, blocking the rest of their pals. Spreading, the Hoods began to shoot, but

Rolling to his feet, he was wheeling off through darkness. Again his shivering laugh chilled his desperate

foemen. Once more, the taunt was backed by the blast of deadly guns. The Hoods fled by a path leading up to

Marjorie's captors had gone ahead. The only way to overtake them was to follow the other Hoods, which The

Shadow did, even though he had emptied his guns in that last fire. He overtook the fleeing men as they

Hoods were staggering away, when a pair of clawing hands sped up beneath The Shadow's guard and

clutched his throat. Just then the glow of a car's headlights wavered from a bend. The Hoods were spreading

Again, the cloaked fighter found that he was dealing with the lone foe who lacked the robe and mask that

As the headlights swung directly down the road, only Hayde came into the path of the gleam. He was flying

like a windmill, tossed upward, backward, over The Shadow's shoulders. The artist rolled almost to the

stopping car. The driver leaped to the road and looked about for Hayde's antagonist.

From darkness, The Shadow recognized the man as he looked about in puzzled fashion. It was Norton

Rudler, returning home from marketing. Seeing no one, Rudler stooped beside Hayde. The artist began to

Another car rolled up, then a third. Residents were getting home to Pinewood, after being delayed by the

storm. Courtney Kelm came from one car, accompanied by a new chauffeur. Wilmer Merton arrived from the

The Shadow heard them decide to take Hayde to Rudler's house, which was nearer than Kelm's. Both Rudler

and Kelm were going there, Merton was returning home. But The Shadow had left before any of the three

Though The Shadow had barely seen the prisoner that the hooded bearers carried, he knew that the victim

might be Marjorie, because of her ability for getting into difficulty. He wanted to make sure that the girl was

The Shadow reached Merton's house just as Merton drove in from the front. Hearing the telephone bell

ringing, Merton hurried inside, leaving the door ajar. From the darkness of the porch, The Shadow heard

"Hello... Why, hello, Rudler... What's that?" Merton paused, his expression anxious. "You say that Marjorie

should have been at your house, but she's gone?... Yes, yes, I'll find out at once "

Merton hurried upstairs. He returned in a few minutes, his worried look gone. His tone was reassuring when

"Marjorie is home and in bed," said Merton. "Yes, I spoke to her. She said she was very tired... Yes, she must

have tramped home through the storm. Her maid says that she came in drenched, and wanted to go right to

The front door closed as Merton hung up the receiver. Moving off through darkness, The Shadow seemed a

part of darkness, beneath the thickly clouded sky. Trees were still stirring in the breeze, and had Marjorie

been there to hear their murmur, she would actually have noted an echoing sound.

Not the imaginary tones of ghostly Druids, that the girl had fancied in the glen, but the strange, whispered

LAMONT CRANSTON came down to breakfast the next morning still wearing his arm in a sling. Humphrey

Benholme gave him a warm greeting, while Dustin Hayde welcomed his fellow guest with a smile that was a

"I hear you wanted to talk to me last night, Hayde," remarked The Shadow, quite calmly. "Sorry I was asleep.

"No, no," returned Hayde, hastily. "I just wanted to find out how you were. That's why I asked Vincent if I

From the other end of the table, Harry Vincent flashed a knowing look toward Cranston. Both The Shadow

It was after Hayde's return from Rudler's that the artist had inquired about Cranston. Obviously, he was trying

Benholme began to ask about Hayde's adventure of the preceding evening. Glibly, Hayde stated that he had

run into a pair of footpads while walking along the road. He had managed to get clear of them even though

All the while he talked, Hayde kept stealing furtive glances at Cranston, but he saw no change on the

Benholme took over the conversation. He said that searchers were scouring everywhere, looking for Hayde's

attackers. The searching party had come across an abandoned gate in the fence surrounding Pinewood. It was

a half mile in back of the old Grimshaw estate, and the footpads could have entered by it.

"If we still feared massed crime," declared Benholme, "we would place watchers there. But when it's simply a

question of a few prowlers, who were quickly scared off, more guards would be unnecessary."

A relieved gleam showed on Hayde's twitchy face. It was plain, to The Shadow's practiced eye, that Hayde

regarded the old gate as a useful means for the Hooded Circle to get in and out of Pinewood when other

There wasn't a doubt of Hayde's connection with the Hoods. His struggle with The Shadow might have been

a mistake; but the way he had faked his story to cover up the Hoods was proof that he was leagued with the

A phone call came for Hayde during breakfast. It was from Joe Cardona, who had heard of the artist's new

From the breakfast table, listeners could hear Hayde assuring Joe that he hadn't been recognized by the men

who attacked him. Hayde was definitely trying to kill any suspicion that Cleek Dargo and his mob could have

After breakfast, Ackley, the butler, appeared and told Benholme that a junk dealer was coming that afternoon

"Good!" exclaimed Benholme. "I expected that fellow here a week ago. Have Mortimer help you with the

"He gave me notice before he left for town yesterday. It was the servants' day off, you know. I thought he

would reconsider it when he returned, but this morning he telephoned to say that he was not coming back."

"It's that trouble of two nights ago!" he decided. "Everybody says their servants were skittish yesterday. No

wonder, considering that Thaddeus and two others were killed. It was that trouble of yours last night" he

wagged his finger at Hayde "that completed the mess. You never should have let it get to the newspapers,

"I didn't," argued Hayde. "I said to hush it up. It was Kelm who wanted it made public. He said it would help

the hunt for the crooks who murdered Thaddeus. He called the newspapers from Rudler's house."

"He wasn't sure what would be best," replied Hayde, "and Kelm became so persistent that Rudler finally let

During that conversation, Cranston was blowing smoke rings from a cigarette. He watched the coils float

ceilingward. They made gray circles, each a reminder of the Hooded Circle, those grayrobed outlaws who

Even though most of last night's battle had taken place in total darkness, The Shadow was quite sure that he

would soon be able to calculate the exact number of Hoods that he had settled during that shifting fight.

MATTERS that The Shadow remembered very clearly proved quite dim to Marjorie Merton when she

Blinking at the sight of bright sunlight, Marjorie sat up in bed. Plucking at her nightgown, she wondered how

"It must have been that fall I took from the horse," she said. "I remember that I felt very dazed before I

"If you think I'd been drinking," declared Marjorie, hotly, "you're wrong! Why do you think I put on those

riding clothes? I was riding along a bridle path, I tell you, when Bolivar stumbled. I left him at Mr. Rudler's

Marjorie cut herself short. She didn't have to make explanations to Therese. Curtly, she told the maid to

prepare her bath, then bring sport clothes from the closet. When Therese obeyed those orders, Marjorie added

that she wanted some breakfast. The cook was to have it ready in fifteen minutes.

"The cook has left," declared Therese. "He took his day off, and made it permanent. Like some of the rest of

us are going to do. Perhaps mademoiselle does not think it matters if servants like Thaddeus are killed. But I

"Don't be unreasonable, Therese," insisted Marjorie, in an apologetic tone. "Of course, we care about

Thaddeus. All of us were in danger the other night. I don't blame the cook for quitting. I think I'd like to get

When Marjorie came downstairs, she found that the mollified Therese had cooked breakfast for her. Marjorie

asked her father to lend her his car, and he granted the request. She drove promptly to Rudler's and found him

at home. Smiling a welcome, he told her that he had sent Bolivar back to Kelm's.

"Why did you leave here?" inquired Rudler. "I was amazed to find you gone when I returned. Worried, too,

because there were some dangerous men around Pinewood last night. Hayde ran into a pair of them. I called

your father, and I was certainly glad when he told me that you were safely home and in bed."

Rudler had scarcely finished speaking before Marjorie began to pour out her story. She told about Hayde

peering in through the window; how she had followed him. She described the meeting of the Hooded Circle;

"I woke up back home in bed," returned Marjorie. "But it wasn't all a dream, Norton. It couldn't have been; it

HANDS in his pockets, Rudler paced the living room, his handsome features marred by the deep furrows of

his forehead. Pacing the living room wasn't easy, because it was stocked with a variety of curios that Rudler

He had to step past Chinese screens and taborets. At times, his shoulder brushed Persian tapestries and

splendid draperies, which served as window curtains. He nearly knocked over a large Egyptian vase as he

Catching the vase, he set it in a safe corner and sat down in a teakwood chair that he had bought in Burma.

Marjorie was seated on a Turkish divan. She watched Rudler give a thoughtful nod.

"You must have followed Hayde," he decided. "That part couldn't have been a dream. It's logical, too that you

ran into some people holding a secret meeting in the Druid glen. I believe that something strange was going

"I do," replied Rudler, solemnly, "because I'm sure that Hayde was up to something. His story about a couple

"Not by that crowd in the glen. My hunch is that he has been working with that crook, Cleek Dargo the one

"A bluff!" inserted Rudler, emphatically, "to cover up Hayde when they staged the robbery at Benholme's.

From all you tell me, Marjorie, I'm sure that the master of that Hooded Circle was Hayde. That ritual stuff, all

those vivid flames, were the sort of bunk that Hayde would like. It's as crazy as those pictures he painted!"

"We've overlooked one point, though," he said, glumly. "Why in the world would that band of cutthroats ever

have let you go free? True, they might think that you would imagine you dreamed all that happened, but that

Marjorie interrupted. She spoke two words that formed a name. She had never heard the name before, yet it

"The man in the cloak, who wore a slouch hat," explained Marjorie. "He routed those crooks at Hayde's

studio. He pursued them outside of Benholme's house. I saw him both those times, and I saw him again last

"On the old watch tower overlooking the Druid glen. I forgot to mention it before."

"You've got it, Marjorie!" exclaimed Rudler, snapping his fingers. "I saw The Shadow too. He was the fellow

who chucked Hayde into the middle of the road. The Shadow must have thinned out that crowd of crooks.

IT sounded logical, but Marjorie still wondered how she had found her way home. She couldn't recall the

long walk to the house, at all, but she could remember things after she reached it.

"I remember Therese helping me upstairs," she said. "She was telling me that she'd put me right to bed. I

remember being undressed, because it was good to get rid of all those soggy clothes. When I was in bed

"That was your father," nodded Rudler. "He told me about it across the telephone. Your story stands with me,

"Yes. Everyone believes his yarn. If you cast doubt on it, he'll claim you have a grudge against him. Of

"Maybe not," returned Marjorie, ruefully. "I'm not going to pose for Hayde any longer. I had Therese throw

"Not very bad," objected Rudler. "There's another point that has just occurred to me. You'll have to mention

The Shadow when you give your story, otherwise, no one will believe that you could have escaped from the

"Suppose Hayde argues that The Shadow wasn't in it," continued Rudler. "You'll have to produce The

"I don't know," admitted Marjorie. Then, in a puzzled tone: "Why do you suppose The Shadow hasn't spoken

"There could be only one reason," decided Rudler, in a pondering tone. "He must be planning to trap Hayde

and the Hoods. Since he was Johnnyonthespot last night, as he was before, The Shadow is likely to show

"It might be. For the present, at least. Particularly because" Rudler's forehead furrowed as deeply as before

"we still have something to find out for ourselves. We want to know why Hayde was prowling around here

Again, Marjorie agreed. She was thinking of Rudler, more than herself, for she doubted that Hayde could

After she left Rudler and went back home, Marjorie had a new idea. Remembering the large collection of

curios at Rudler's, knowing that many people had spoken of them, she saw a probable reason why Hayde had

Having stolen his own paintings after selling them to Benholme, Hayde would naturally be interested in other

opportunities for robbery within the Pinewood area. Marjorie could understand, at last, why Hayde went

about openly while the other crooks were masked. He needed an alibi for everything he did. He was crime's

Later that afternoon, while her father was out, Marjorie phoned Rudler and told him her new theory. He

agreed that she might be right, and promised to have his own servants keep strict watch over the house.

With dusk, flashlights began to flicker in many parts of Pinewood. Local deputies were helping the private

watchmen patrol the grounds. The guards at the gate had been doubled; every vehicle was inspected when it

SOON after dinner, a truck arrived at Benholme's. It was the junk dealer's truck, empty except for the driver.

Ackley valued the old furniture, and settled on the price. They began to help the driver load the truck.

From the stairs that led into the cellar came a blackened streak, gliding into the gloomy light. It was the

A guest, Lamont Cranston, was missing from his room in Benholme's mansion. In his stead, The Shadow was

The servants had departed with a load, leaving much to carry. The gilt frames that once held Hayde's

paintings were leaning in a stack against two boxes, which were partly filled with odds and ends.

Rapidly, The Shadow transferred items from one box to the other. Old lamps, footstools, two sections of a

battered bookcase were enough. The nearly emptied box allowed space for The Shadow.

Footsteps told that Ackley and the others were returning. The Shadow's form seemed to melt from the light as

The two boxes went into the truck. More furniture followed. Last of all came the picture frames. Benholme

"Fifteen thousand spent on paintings," grumbled Benholme, "and all I have to show for it is fifteen dollars for

the empty frames! No wonder Hayde didn't want to stay around to see the junk get loaded."

The truck pulled slowly from the range of the porch lights. It had to negotiate a wide turn from the rear drive.

Benholme and Harry saw its taillight blink, but did not think it unusual. They couldn't see what was

The Shadow could. He had raised the box lid. Looking out from the center of the truck, he had a good view,

for the porch lights formed a background. He saw the quick but stealthy figure that emerged from a flower

A figure robed in dark gray, a lone member of the Hooded Circle, clad in full regalia! The truck's taillight

didn't blink when Benholme and Harry watched it. It was simply obscured for a moment, when the one Hood

Grabbing the rear of the truck, the Hood pulled himself on board just as the vehicle began to gather speed. As

the truck reached the main driveway, he was crawling through the picture frames, working his way forward.

The Hood passed The Shadow's box, so close that the blackcloaked passenger could have touched him.

There was a rustle of the gray robe, a slight glint from the Hood's lifting hand, indicating that the lone crook

An automatic thrust from beneath the box lid. Its muzzle steadied on the forwardcreeping Hood. With his

other hand, The Shadow raised the lid slowly, then came over the edge so stealthily that all noise was

The Hood had reached the driver. His voice came in a low, ugly hiss that made the man look about, startled.

The truck was only halfway to the gates; for some reason, the Hood wanted it stopped before it reached there.

Coupled with a leveled gun, the Hood's command was sufficient. He gave a satisfied chuckle as the truck

Never guessing that The Shadow was almost at his shoulder holding him covered with an automatic, the

Hood boldly raised his mask. A face showed in profile against the dash light but even that mild glow was

Matters had reversed themselves tonight. A man who depended upon alibis no longer felt he needed one.

ALL pretense of nervousness was gone from Dustin Hayde as he spoke to the cowering truck driver. Any

doubters would have believed Hayde's story of fighting off footpads could they have seen him now. True

Hayde had a gun which could account for his bravery; but his manner was too steady, too precise to be

"I want to leave here in a hurry," Hayde told the driver. "When you reach the gates keep going through, do

"There will be some shooting," continued Hayde. "When it begins go faster. If you don't" he poked the gun

There was a quiver from the driver's lips. He was trying to ask something. Hayde guessed what it was.

Nodding, the driver started to shove the truck into gear. Hayde stopped him with a sharp word:

Swinging across the seat Hayde returned to the darkness within the truck. He gave a gloating chuckle, to let

"I prefer to ride farther back," stated Hayde. "So do not start until I give the word. But remember" leaning

forward, he hissed into the driver's ear "I shall have you covered all the while. You will follow whatever

There were sounds from the rear of the truck. The Shadow heard them; so did Hayde, for the artist was

expecting them. If the driver heard them, they made no impression; he had more important things to worry

Hayde's left hand had dipped down below the driver's seat. The Shadow caught a muffled click that must

have escaped the ear of the driver for the fellow was gulping promises to do exactly as Hayde told him. The

It was Hayde's turn to gulp. He was feeling the cold roundness of a gun muzzle at the back of his neck. A

gloved hand shot forward to clamp Hayde's gun wrist and pull his revolver away from the driver's direction.

Another voice took over. The Shadow's tone was sibilant commanding Hayde to drop the gun. The driver

came around from his seat, saw the burn of eyes from blackness just above Hayde's shoulder. The sparkle of

Hearing words directed to himself, the driver nodded. He was to take Hayde's revolver when it fell. "Get him

out from the truck," ordered The Shadow. "Hurry him ahead, until you are past the range of the headlights. At

The driver thrust his hand toward Hayde's misdirected gun. Scraping sounds were louder at the rear of the

truck. Hooded friends of Hayde's were there, but they didn't know he needed help.

The trapped crook went limp. The gun slipped, almost dangling, ready to fall. His neck wobbled sideways.

He was caving in like a human jellyfish. The Shadow had to shift his gun to keep Hayde from slumping to the

Then, timing his rapid action to perfection, the unmasked Hood went taut. His fingers seemed to snatch the

dangling gun at the instant it began its fall. Hayde tugged the trigger with the same motion; the gun's recoil

Hayde's sliding neck twisted from the muzzle of The Shadow's .45 just as a gloved finger pulled the trigger.

Flame singed Hayde's sallow cheek; a bullet actually seared it. The Shadow's shot had missed, but Hayde

wasn't safe. With a slash of his big gun, The Shadow numbed the crook's wideflung gun hand, sent the

revolver clattering against the inside of the truck, where the rescued driver made a quick grab for it.

Hayde was floundering on the floor, tangled in a mass of junky furniture. Another shot would have settled

him easily, but The Shadow preferred to capture Hayde alive, once the fellow's thrust was through. He had to

MEN in back of the truck had heard those shots. They were working rapidly, yanking away the gilt frames

that barred them from quick entry. The barrier was gone when The Shadow wheeled about. He uttered a

That laugh carried a threat that Hoods could not ignore. They bobbed away, firing wildly as they went. The

Shadow's guns ripped shots that scored a hit or two, for there was a clatter as someone stumbled over the

Sidestepping a stack of furniture, The Shadow swung completely about as he continued his course to the

rear of the truck. The revolution did not slow his progress toward the scattering Hoods, and it gave him a

The Shadow's twist was fortunate. In a passing glimpse, he saw a broken chair fly upward from the floor.

Hayde had flung it. The chair caught the driver squarely. The truckmen fired, but his bullet merely tore a hole

Turning toward the front of the truck, The Shadow flung himself into the fray. It was difficult to distinguish

the grapplers in the darkness. Which was which didn't matter; the most important thing was to get them to the

Three figures rolled across the front seat, the impetus provided by The Shadow. Tumbling sideward, they hit

the ground and rolled apart. The Shadow's lips gave mockery; Hayde's raised a shrill, wild shout.

Hayde's cry was answered. Hoods were scrambling among the bushes that lined the narrow road. With the

speed of a rabbit, Hayde bounded to his feet. Somewhere in the tussle, he had luckily regained his gun.

Spinning about, Hayde saw The Shadow simply as a blot of blackness, and took rapid aim.

There the crook's luck ended. Flame tongued from the crouching blot. Still imitating a rabbit, Hayde took a

crazy jump, firing while in midair. His bullet didn't even scar the truck, and it was the only shot he fired.

Landing on the ground, he rolled away in convulsive fashion, shrieking that his gun was gone, howling for

They were shooting earnestly from the brush, furnishing a barrage while Hayde crawled toward them. The

Shadow's guns were answering, but the Hoods were keeping warily under cover. They heard a different laugh

He knew their game. They were fighting solely to keep him where he was. They wanted him to stay with the

Loosing rapid shots, he cloaked his guns, gathered up the stunned driver with a swoop and dashed out into

Shots followed him, from behind the truck and at the sides. The Shadow could risk a few, for they were

hurried, but he hadn't time to get to the darkness beyond the range of the headlights.

At the end of thirty feet, he flung the driver to the ground and rolled beside him, just as bullets whistled close

Finishing his roll, The Shadow came up with his guns. As he fired along the sides of the truck, Hoods

scattered, their own thrust through. Then, at the very finish of The Shadow's fire, there came a blast that made

The stalled truck split apart, gushing flame in every direction. Chunks of shattered furniture came raining

upon The Shadow, as well as the outspreading Hoods. In the midst of that volcanic spurt, The Shadow saw

Hoods who were carrying Hayde along with them. They were in the bushes, off to one side. The Hoods at the

Others spied the Hoods and fired, too, but at a hopeless range. The new arrivals were deputies and watchmen,

coming from the gates. Helping the groggy truck driver to a sitting position, The Shadow swung into

FLAMES were licking the truck furiously, for they were fed by oil and gasoline. Furniture and boxes were

blazing like tinder lighting the whole roadway. But the Hoods were well away to cover, with a start that made

The rescuers found the truck driver, dragged him farther from the heat of the flames. He was talking hoarsely,

"It was a guy with a hood that nearly got me," declared the driver. "He was on the truck, and I know who he

was, too. He was the artist guy that was talking to Mr. Benholme when I got there with the truck."

"I guess that was him," returned the truck driver. "I saw his face, all right. Ugly, and kind of yellow, with a

"Yeah, and a funny kind of robe. He told me to drive through the gates but before I could get started another

guy bobbed up, all dressed in black. He took care of Hayde, and got me out of the jam.

"But do you know what Hayde must have done?" The driver was pointing back toward the burning truck. "He

set off a bomb under the driver's seat. He was going to drop off I guess, and let me get blown skyhigh after I

There were excited buzzes among the deputies and the watchmen. Suddenly, a deputy exclaimed:

"There was plenty to that game! We'd have heard the truck blow up and run out after it. Then's when the

"Yeah?" came another voice. "And what's stopping the Hoods right now? The truck went blooie inside the

gates, instead of outside. So what? It works the same way, don't it? We come chasing in here, leaving the

Realizing their folly, the squad of deputies and watchmen started toward the gates on the run, taking the truck

driver with them. They must have known that their quest was hopeless, for the Hoods had plenty of time to

get away from Pinewood. Still, it was their duty to guard the gates, so they were going back there.

Flames were dying down from the truck. Reduced to a charred chassis, the vehicle was surrounded by the

ashes of obliterated furniture. It would be classified as a total loss, along with its entire load.

That, at least, would be the general opinion, but the Hooded Circle would not share it. Nor would The

Shadow. He knew the prize that the Hoods had come after, and recognized that they had obtained it.

Though driven off, the Hoods had completed their major purpose despite The Shadow's opposition. Again,

The Shadow had but one course: to wait until the Hoods showed their hand again, then battle them and trap

They were an evil tribe, those Hoods. Always, they managed to carry away all pals who had fallen in the fray,

thus preserving their secret roll of membership. But the time would come when such luck would fail them,

The Shadow was willing to take that risk. He was fighting big odds each time he met the Hoods, but he was

playing a smarter game than Cardona's blind hunt for Cleek Dargo and the missing mob.

Once those mysterious grayrobed men left victims, clad in full regalia, upon a field of fray, the end of the

The Shadow knew. With that accomplishment in mind, he was looking forward to his next encounter with the

INSPECTOR JOE CARDONA arrived in Pinewood on an earlymorning train. This time the local

They had taken it for granted that the Hooded Circle would not return to Pinewood. But there wasn't a doubt

Cardona agreed that one point was clearly established; namely, that Dustin Hayde had been the motivating

power during the run of crime. It seemed quite evident that he had been covering up for the crooks, right from

the start. The theories that Marjorie and Rudler had discussed were now the accepted opinions of the law.

Looking at the case from its present angle, it was obvious that Dustin Hayde, of all people, would have

Benholme had paid him for the paintings, putting Hayde that much ahead in cash. But Hayde hadn't been

satisfied with the price, and knew that they could be disposed of later, in foreign parts, for a much higher

Such things were the sort that turned eccentric men like Hayde into avenues of crime. Cardona could vouch

for it from past experience. Meeting up with mobsters when they served as models for his paintings, Hayde

Apparently, Hayde had slipped on one detail. Since thugs had helped him cover up his own actions, he should

have helped them cover theirs. But Cardona had made positive, while in New York, that certain members of

Cleek Dargo's former mob had visited Hayde's studio while the artist was at work on the "Seven Hells."

Cardona was quite convinced that Cleek's crew formed the Hooded Circle; that Hayde, in making a pencil

Probably Hayde had hoped that Cardona wouldn't recognize the rough sketch unless he saw the actual

paintings, too. Since the paintings were to be stolen before Joe could view them, Hayde must have thought

Hayde had blundered on that occasion, Cardona decided. He had blundered last night, too, when he had the

Benholme had talked about shipping certain valuables into Manhattan for safe storage. Hayde must have

supposed that they were going in the truck, camouflaged as junk. But when he had gotten into the truck

Having brought the Hoods into Pinewood, Hayde had to get them out again. So he had gone ahead with his

plan of blowing up the truck, expecting the driver to he killed in the blast. That failing, Hayde had been

Many points needed to be clarified, but Cardona was sure they would be when he located either Dustin Hayde

or Cleek Dargo. Figuring that both were hiding out in Manhattan, Cardona went back to New York.

MEANWHILE Pinewood was troubled with a problem that Cardona hadn't bothered about. It was the servant

problem, for the new raid by the Hoods had made it worse. Half a dozen servants had walked out, giving no

notice at all, as soon as news had spread that criminals were again abroad in Pinewood.

Most of them had simply left word that they would send for their belongings later. People were doing their

utmost to keep the remaining servants satisfied, but all were threatening to quit. It looked as though

Pinewood would soon be devoid of household help, except for the oldest and most faithful retainers.

It was hard to get new servants. Word had spread that Pinewood wasn't healthy. Employment agencies

couldn't find takers for the attractive offers that were made. Luckily, a few persons came to Pinewood on

their own, willing to take jobs, and Marjorie Merton was fortunate enough to hire a new chef.

He was a huge African, who laughingly boasted that he was big enough to take care of himself and he looked

There was a special reason why Jericho came to Pinewood. He had been summoned there by The Shadow.

Other secret agents of The Shadow were among those who applied for jobs as servants and got them.

Cliff Marsland, who often roved the underworld while working for The Shadow, made himself appear quite

Hawkeye, a wizened little fellow, looked enough like a jockey to pick up a stable boy's job at Kelm's. All that

Hawkeye had to do was look wise and pretend he knew something about horses, which he managed to do

A position as a chauffeur was easily acquired by Moe Shrevnitz, who customarily drove a taxi for The

Shadow. A fifth agent, Clyde Burke, didn't have to get a job to stay in Pinewood. Clyde was a reporter for the

New York Classic. His newspaper assigned him to Pinewood, to be on the lookout for news.

Thus, counting Harry Vincent with the others, The Shadow had six men on the ground, to serve as a fighting

Dustin Hayde had become an outlaw. He no longer needed to cover up his dirty work. His career as an artist

was through. Having revealed himself as a bigtime crook, it was likely that he would make the most of it.

Hayde's best bet was Pinewood. He knew the district, and had acquired a grudge against everyone who lived

The old servants who remained, and the few new ones who arrived, were bolstered by local deputies and

private detectives. Paced by Courtney Kelm and Humphrey Benholme, the wealthy residents of Pinewood

were offering their challenge to crime. Hayde and his Hoods were due for a warm reception should they come

VISITING Rudler late that afternoon, Marjorie discussed the situation. They took a walk along the road

where Hayde had met Rudler's car a few nights before, then they strolled down into the Druid Glen.

Though it was daylight and Rudler was with her, Marjorie shivered when they reached the cromlech. Rugged

monoliths loomed like giant monsters seeming ready to crush the two rash mortals who ventured within their

Rudler poked about the ashes of a fire that were on a line with the odd stone called the Friar's Heel. Dipping

his hand into the charred remnants, he brushed away the soot and found traces of a golden dust on his fingers.

"This proves your story," he told Marjorie. "Amazing, isn't it, to think how Hayde influenced a pack of

hardboiled mobsters with his revival of an ancient ritual? I suppose, though, that men of such warped

natures are naturally superstitious. But I doubt that Hayde would risk holding another ritual in this glen."

Marjorie shared the doubt. She feared that Hayde and his Hoods might try new crime in Pinewood for that

was the popular opinion. But if they came, their main objective would be business, not ceremony.

"People would believe my story now," declared Marjorie, ruefully, "but they would wonder why I didn't tell it

before. If I had, Hayde might have fled without making that attack on the truck."

"It's just as well he showed himself the way he did," returned Rudler. "It seems that silence was your best

policy, Marjorie. Hayde probably thought that you considered your adventure a dream. Otherwise" Rudler's

Returning home, Marjorie kept thinking over the matter, and was more and more convinced that silence had

saved her from harm. The less she said, the better, concerning that ritual in the Druid glen. But she still

Her father was in the library. Around him were stacks of books. In an opened cabinet standing in the corner,

Marjorie saw half a dozen bronze statuettes, which she knew were real works of art and highly valued. They

"What are you doing, daddy?" inquired Marjorie. "Not disposing of your treasures, I hope!"

"I am," returned Merton dryly. "It seems to be the fashion in Pinewood. Kelm is buying my Grimshaw book

collection. His servants have taken away one load, and are coming back for the rest."

"They are going to New York this evening. Not in a junk dealer's truck, but in an armored van. They will be

"I refused sixty thousand dollars for them," returned Merton seriously, "which rates them higher than Hayde's

Marjorie was turning about, when she saw a stack of books, a set which bore the title, "The Golden Bough."

Merton eyed his daughter steadily, as though wondering why her tone had been so ardent. Then, smiling at

"The Golden Bough is a symbol of authority," said Merton. "It was used in ancient rituals. It dates back to the

"A woman who uttered oracles," explained Merton. "At Delphi, for example, the Pythoness would utter

remarkable sayings, while under the influence of a strange gas that issued from a fissure in the earth.

A flood of thoughts swept Marjorie. Passing from the ceremony of the Golden Bough, as performed by the

leader of the Hooded Circle, she remembered how she had been overcome by the steaming vapor from the

It was plain, at last, that the Hoods had expected her to recall nothing, for she had been treated as a

Pythoness. Probably the gas had not taken sufficient effect. More than ever, Marjorie was glad that she had

Wilmer Merton seemed troubled by his daughter's reverie. Nervously he shifted his gaze toward the bronze

statuettes. Looking up, Marjorie saw her father's troubled expression. A sudden impression gripped her.

Some deep reason lay behind Merton's disposal of his treasures. Though he had treated the subject lightly, he

was influenced by real alarm. People were right. The Hoods intended to return to Pinewood.

Somehow, Wilmer Merton knew that the theft of his prized statuettes was to be crime's coming quest!

SPRINGING forward, Marjorie impulsively grasped her father's shoulders, made him look her in the eye. She

Sitting down, Merton stroked his forehead, let his fingers drift through his gray hair. Then, in a strained tone,

"A short while ago," said Merton. "He called me on the telephone. He seemed to be talking over a

"He warned me that my life would be in jeopardy if I sent those statuettes away. He talked oddly, in a gritted

tone. He said that there were other forms of art that he appreciated besides paintings; that what he liked, he

"That was about all. Except that he repeated his threat against my life, and added that you would be in

Marjorie walked over to the cabinet, placed herself in front of the statuettes. Tensely, she declared:

"Daddy, you're not letting the Hoods take these. We'll summon every watchman in Pinewood to guard this

"Hayde might notice the move," he said. "Look, Marjorie" he pointed to the window "it is dusk already.

"You won't," declared Marjorie, firmly. "I'll see to it that people will be here to protect the place. Better

She paused. Men were entering the house. They were Kelm's servants, coming for the next load of books.

The key was in the lock, attached to a key ring from which others dangled. Locking the cabinet, Marjorie

Withersham was with Kelm's servants. Withersham was Merton's secretary, a palefaced man who wore

large spectacles. He was capable enough when it came to listing books, but in danger Marjorie would sooner

Impatient, Withersham was chiding Kelm's servants because they had taken some wrong books in the first

load. He had made them bring those volumes back. They stacked them in a corner at the secretary's order.

"I'm keeping an exact check, sir," said the secretary. "This load will be the last, and I'll make certain that no

Stepping to the hallway, Withersham checked the high stacks of books as Kelm's two men carried them past.

The servants returned for more and were coming out through the library door, when the hallway telephone

Withersham always answered such calls when he was about. Seeing Marjorie at hand he gave her the list. She

Marjorie watched her father go to the telephone. He kept saying "Hello," but couldn't get a satisfactory

response. Marjorie was fidgety, and Withersham noted it. In an undertone, the secretary inquired:

"Keep the list," suggested Withersham, "and we'll move the rest of the books out rapidly, so that Mr. Merton

KELM'S men were back. Marjorie kept watching her father, while Withersham bustled about the library

Merton was still having trouble with his call when Kelm's servants came from the library and poked the

piledup books in Marjorie's direction. The books were in sets; the girl checked them rapidly.

Then came Withersham. He was lugging a load, too. On top of the high stack were Merton's keys.

"I think this is all," puffed Withersham. "If it is, you can lock the library, Miss Merton. I'll be back soon from

Withersham's pile completed the list. Marjorie took the keys and closed the library door, after a look toward

the locked cabinet that contained the bronze statuettes. She didn't have to lock the library door; it latched

She knew that the library was safe enough; it had barred windows, and they had been inspected daily ever

Merton turned anxiously from the telephone. Holding his hand over the mouthpiece, the grayhaired man

"Withersham has gone, too," she said. Then, her own tone anxious: "Is it Hayde?"

"I think so," replied her father. "Either there is trouble with the connection, or he is trying to stall me. You

Handing the girl the telephone, Merton took the keys and pocketed them. Listening, Marjorie heard a voice.

She recognized it as Hayde's, although it was strangely changed. It was just as her father had previously

"My final warning, Merton!" Hayde's tone was uglier than Marjorie had imagined any voice could be. "If you

doubt that I am actually Dustin Hayde" there was a pause, during which Marjorie heard the speaker suck in

A forced chuckle sounded across the wire. Hayde seemed to be holding a conference with persons at the other

Marjorie remembered it. One day, when she had been resting after posing in the Lysistrata costume, a

sparrow had lighted on the sill of the studio window. With a few quick lines, Hayde had made a sketch of the

bird, finishing just as the sparrow flew away. Laughing, he had crumpled the paper, tossed it away.

He was repeating that laugh right now, but in an uglier tone, like a man who had some great grudge against

the world. He had reason to laugh, for Hayde had mentioned an incident that only he and Marjorie could have

There was a click from Hayde's receiver, ending the call. Marjorie turned to her father.

"I'm sure it was Hayde," she declared. "He said this was his final warning. But why did he call again?"

"To make sure that we did not summon aid," replied Merton, "and to convince us who he really was. Suppose

we leave here, Marjorie, and pick up Withersham when we pass Kelm's. Our lives are worth more than the

Merton paced the hallway, wringing his hands helplessly, while the girl rapidly told Rudler of Hayde's

telephoned threats. Hanging up, Marjorie turned to her father with a smile of reassurance.

"We're in luck, daddy," she announced. "Norton was just starting over to Benholme's, to call for Mr.

Cranston. They were going in town to have dinner with the police commissioner, but Norton says they will

Merton continued to pace the hallway between the telephone and the library. At intervals, he stopped by the

library door, listened intently for sounds inside. Marjorie calculated that more than five minutes had passed,

"I can't stand it here!" exclaimed Merton. "Let's go into the library, Marjorie "

The girl raised an interrupting hand. Someone was coming up the front steps. Merton swung about, then gave

a relieved sigh as Withersham entered the front door. Blinking through his glasses, the pale secretary

"A great deal, Withersham," replied Merton. "It's good that I didn't have a gun in my hand. I'm so nervous, I

Merton nodded. Marjorie expected Withersham to wilt. Instead, the puny secretary exhibited bantam bravery.

"I think there's a revolver in the library sir," he said. "I saw one in the drawer of the corner table. Why not get

Merton was turning to unlock the door, when a gulp from Withersham halted him. The secretary's bravery

had faded. Staring toward the rear of the hallway, Withersham was cringing into a corner. As her father

Like Withersham, they let their hands lift. All three were covered by a pair of guns that poked from the

sleeves of grayish robes. Ugly eyes, two pairs of them, peered through slits of cloth masks that hung from

Hayde's threat was at hand. Two members of the Hooded Circle had arrived, a vanguard of the rest!

Gesturing their victims to a front corner of the hall, the Hoods moved past the pantry door, where they turned

to stalk in the direction of the library. At that moment, the Hoods heard the approaching purr of a speedy

Marjorie's whole body tingled with the hope of rescue; then her elation gave way to complete despair. Snarls

As crooking fingers steadied on the triggers of aiming guns, Marjorie Merton was swept by the sickening fear

IT was fortunate that Wilmer Merton had failed to get his gun. If the murderous pair of Hoods had seen signs

of any opposition, they would have sped those death shots. As it was, they paused just long enough to make

They had plenty of time for it, before the approaching car could possibly arrive; but the interval that they

The pantry door slashed open, just grazing the backs of the masked men who stood in front of it. With the

door came a pair of big brown objects that Marjorie thought were hams, until they clamped upon the robed

They belonged to the new chef, Jericho, and they were flinging high and wide, carrying a pair of hooded

figures with them. Two guns were shooting, but not toward the corner where the victims huddled. Jericho's

Bullets were nicking the ceiling as the frantic crooks writhed in the giant African's grasp. They were twisting

about to take shots at their gigantic foe, and when Jericho tried to bash their heads together, the thick cloth of

A gun muzzle stabbed its fire past Jericho's ear. With a side fling, the African hurled the shooting Hood

across the hall, close to the stairs, and clamped a twohand grip on the fellow's pal.

Marjorie shrieked a warning as the first Hood stumbled up to his feet, raising his gun toward the pantry door.

The second Hood was flying through the air, flung like a dummy figure. His rising pal went sprawling with

him, for Jericho had used one as a missile, with the other for a target. They struck the newel post at the

Then came a flood of Hoods, driving in from the outer door at the back of the hallway. They were aiming as

they came, and Jericho was a huge target that even wild shots couldn't miss. The new chef dived back into the

pantry, pulling the door with him. As the Hoods arrived, that same door came banging outward again,

Hoods sprawled; those behind stumbled. They were shooting for the doorway, but Jericho had ducked again.

Some swung their guns to aim at Marjorie and her father, while a pair leaped toward the library door. Then

Rescuers had arrived, a trio of them. Marjorie saw Rudler, Cranston beside him, with another man Harry

Vincent just in back. They were surging inward, shooting for the Hoods. The robed mob, caught off guard

Then came the counterstroke, the luckiest that the Hoods had ever made. Before the rescuers could mow

down the crooked tribe, every light in the house went out. Some Hood deep in the cellar, had saved the lives

FURTHER shooting was impossible. Staggering Hoods, taking the brunt of the fire, were already grabbing

Thanks to the darkness, faltering Hoods made contact. Others were piling in to help them.

Neither faction could afford to shoot, for all were indistinguishable in the darkness. The Shadow knew that

his agents could look out for themselves, but he didn't want to endanger Marjorie and the others. As for the

Hoods they filled the hallway in greater numbers than ever. They preferred a slugfest to a shooting match.

A gun jabbed The Shadow's rib. Twisting, he slugged at the man who held it, landed a glancing blow just as

an avalanche of Hoods poured over him. A flashlight glaring from the hooded throng, showed faces sliding

The Shadow's foot kicked high, sent the flashlight skimming. He blasted shots straight upward, knowing that

Then the flood was parting. Jericho was wading through from the pantry. This kind of fray was made to

Jericho's order. He could tell Hoods when he found them, by the feel of their robes. Bashing them right and

Marjorie gave a gasp as a huge hand clamped her. A man lunged in to aid the girl. Knowing that it must be

Merton, Jericho gathered him up, too. Dragging one beneath each arm, he kept right out through the door,

They had scarcely recognized their new chef by his gleaming grin, before Jericho had turned about and was

Things had changed there. The Hoods were in full retreat, bearing their fallen members with them. From the

rear of the hall, a few were raking the floor with shots, while the rest made for the outer darkness. A gunfire

As Jericho dropped back to the porch, noise told him that the last of the Hoods had taken the rear way out.

Hearing from The Shadow, whom they hadn't even seen, and realizing that somehow he had escaped their

A flashlight glimmered. It came from the door of the library, which was open, the keys lying on the floor.

Jericho saw the rising figure of Cranston; the light turned in The Shadow's grasp. It showed Harry Vincent,

Another man lay senseless, but otherwise uninjured. Rudler hadn't reached the library, but he was in shelter at

Merton's secretary hadn't reached the front door. His body was riddled by the last volley that the Hoods had

No Hoods were in the hallway. Using flashlights rapidly but briefly, the Hoods had made sure that they had

gathered in their wounded and dead when they made their massed departure. In back of the mansion cars

LEAVING the scene to Jericho, The Shadow dashed from the house. Marjorie and her father were startled to

see Cranston arriving quite unscathed, yet still wearing an arm bandage from a former fray.

Telling them that the house was safe, he sprang into Rudler's car and started for the gates.

It was a long way around. By flocking across back yards, the Hoods had taken a shorter route. Wheeling

along twisted roads, The Shadow could hear sounds of distant gunfire. All Pinewood was aroused; deputies,

watchmen, servants from various households, were responding to a hurried alarm sent by persons who had

Where his road veered into another, The Shadow was forced to leave Rudler's roadster, for the way was

blocked by an abandoned car. Fearing stiff opposition, the Hoods had decided not to drive out through the

Another car appeared. The Shadow recognized it by the special amber hue of its headlights. The car belonged

to a Pinewood resident; Moe Shrevnitz was its chauffeur. He was bringing the other secret agents of The

The Shadow blinked a tiny flashlight. Its glow was red. Moe's car stopped; The Shadow acquired cloak and

hat from beneath the driver's seat. Then he was deploying his agents, guiding them by flashlight blinks that

They were spreading, The Shadow and his own squad, in hope of snaring some of the scattered Hoods.

Sounds of battle drifted rapidly. The Hoods were slipping through the opposition. The Shadow's men came

across wounded deputies, who pointed the direction where the Hoods had gone. Following, the agents

The victims weren't wearing hooded robes. They were servants who had met with trouble. Recognizing The

Shadow's men as newly hired help, the older servants warned them to be careful. The Hoods were sniping

Arriving just as the car pulled away, The Shadow pointed his agents toward the fence surrounding Pinewood,

intending to have them spread wide, then work inward. From the fence, they heard a last flurry of distant

Meeting up with returning watchmen, the agents learned that the Hoods had reached the old gates beyond the

Grimshaw estate. They had flattened the ancient barriers in their hurry, and had been picked up by cars

The only course was to look for stragglers. The agents joined in that hunt, for it went with their role of

servants. Picking a course of his own, The Shadow returned to the Merton house. Leaving his cloak and hat

Marjorie and her father were surrounded by a group of friends, with the faithful Jericho standing by. Among

the throng was Courtney Kelm. He had arrived in one car some of his servants in another. Two of Kelm's

servants had taken Rudler home, for he had insisted upon learning if his own house was still safe.

"Rudler was lucky," boomed Kelm. "So was this chap Vincent" he gestured toward a corner chair, where

Harry was groggily rubbing his head "but it was too bad about Withersham. He proved himself very loyal

Marjorie's father gave a solemn nod. He picked up his keys, which he found lying on the library floor.

"They were after my statuettes," he said, pointing to the corner cabinet, "but their attempt apparently fell

short. I would far rather have lost the statuettes, however" he gazed reprovingly at Marjorie "than have

Merton was murmuring "Poor Withersham," and shaking his head sadly, as he unlocked the cabinet. He was

displaying the interior purely as a formality, along with the facts that he had stated to his friends. But when

the cabinet door came wide, Merton's whole face froze. His eyes stared unbelievingly.

DESPITE the fury of the fray, the crooks had managed somehow to reach the cabinet and seize the highly

valued statuettes. An amazing feat, considering that only a few had gotten as far as the library, and that all

Marjorie could hardly believe it possible that any Hood could have snatched the keys, unlocked the cabinet,

and relocked it after he and a few pals grabbed the statuettes. Yet the proof was present. The empty cabinet

Certainly, there must have been one coolheaded member of that frenzied Hooded Circle. One cool enough

to have lingered without necessity, in order to lock up the cabinet again. Yet there was no other explanation.

Marjorie herself could testify that nothing had gone out of the library except the books that Kelm had bought.

No, that was impossible. He might have telephoned from close at hand, faking a longdistance call, but he

couldn't have arrived in such short order. Besides, Hayde hadn't been with the Hoods that night at Benholme's

Probably the Hoods had been led by Cleek Dargo, the killer whom Cardona was hunting. Others accepted

that view, as they listened to Marjorie's testimony and heard her tell how carefully she had checked the

The Shadow heard that testimony. One of the last to leave, he picked up his hat and cloak from behind a bush

and became a being of blackness, starting on a lone patrol. There was much to be learned around Pinewood

Deep in darkness, The Shadow's laugh throbbed softly. The blackclad rover was thinking of death's

trophies, the statuettes that mobsters had wrested from Merton's possession, at the cost of Withersham's life

Again, crime bordered on the unexplainable, although witnesses had managed to produce a makeshift answer.

But the tone of The Shadow's whispered laugh told that he did not agree with the accepted theories

WITHIN a few days, Pinewood had settled down to normal, trying to forget the losses from the latest battle

with the Hoods. There were five dead beside Withersham three were servants, two were watchmen who

had been on patrol duty. Nearly a dozen more had been wounded, among them some deputies.

Unquestionably the Hoods had suffered losses also, particularly during the initial fight in the Merton house.

How many, there was no way of telling. True to form, the robed crooks had made a complete getaway,

Courtney Kelm became the "strong man" of Pinewood. By unanimous vote, the residents gave him a

Of the watchmen and menservants who had been in Pinewood at the beginning of terror's reign, there were

some twenty left. Certain ones like Thaddeus and Withersham, had died during the Hooded Circle's raids.

Others had quit, and Kelm sent the wounded away on vacations. Statistics showed that there had been about

Kelm proceeded to fill the vacancies with brawny hirelings who looked like members of a "foreign legion."

Pinewood already had a quota of new, but proven, fighters men like Cliff Marsland, Moe Shrevnitz and

He commended Jericho, too, and allowed Wilmer Merton to keep the new chef as guardian of that household,

a fact which pleased Marjorie immensely. She said that she would rather have Jericho on duty than half a

dozen others. Besides, Therese was impressed by the chef's prowess and decided not to quit.

Cooperating with Kelm, the county sheriff provided more deputies, bringing the total to a dozen. But Kelm

went further. He organized all the ablebodied men in Pinewood into an auxiliary group that could act like a

Younger men, like Rudler, were eminently suited to such duty, although Benholme and Merton were not. But

there were guests, too, who agreed to stay. One was Lamont Cranston, who had routed the Hoods with

Another was Harry Vincent, who had likewise figured in that struggle; and Clyde Burke, the Classic reporter,

agreed to join the flying squadron if allowed to inform his newspaper of any startling occurrences. Thus,

Certain servants and guests, though cooperating with the others, would take their real orders through a

Next, Kelm took measures toward the protection of all valuables that crooks might attempt to steal.

In a conference which Cranston attended, Kelm argued that Pinewood offered too many targets. The Hoods

had robbed Benholme and Merton, he claimed, because their houses were somewhat isolated and

So far, the criminals had acquired paintings and statuettes totaling a value of one hundred thousand dollars,

"They will attack us one by one," warned Kelm, addressing a group of solemn listeners, "unless we take the

proper precautions. I suggest that we gather all our valuables in one given spot."

"It will be putting all the eggs in one basket," argued Benholme. "A very poor policy, Kelm."

The others agreed with Kelm. Benholme offered no further objection. He simply looked toward Merton and

"My curios are valuable," declared Rudler. "Not so much as individual items, but as an entire lot. They have

been appraised in excess of a hundred thousand dollars. Doubtless" his tone became grim "the Hoods

"It was easier for them to rob Benholme and Merton first, but my turn will probably come. So why not use

Kelm inquired what facilities Rudler had for the protection of such items as bonds and jewelry. Rudler

"Your house won't do," decided Kelm. "We shall have to keep a regular guard there of course. But there is

LISTENERS became both interested and surprised. They had never heard of Kelm's strong room before.

With a broad smile, Kelm summoned his butler, Wellingford, an earnestlooking man who resembled

Ackley, Benholme's butler. Kelm ordered Wellingford to unlock the strong room, handing him a set of three

Kelm was still chatting in his booming voice, when Wellingford returned with the keys. He also announced

that Inspector Cardona had arrived, bringing a visitor with him. Kelm inquired what the visitor looked like.

"A rather odd sort, sir," replied Wellingford. "I wouldn't take him to be a detective."

Delivering a deep chuckle, Kelm told Wellingford to have Cardona and his friend meet them in the strong

They came to a wide entrance flanked by two heavy steel doors, which had triple locks. Kelm pointed out

barred windows, fitted with thick bulletproof glass. He was proudest, though, of an object that stood in a

It was a massive safe, measuring five feet in each direction. Almost as wide as the broad doorway, the safe

impressed all viewers by its bulk. Its black walls and top were formidable; so was the door that fronted it.

Fit to grace a bank vault, the safe door bore the name of a manufacturing concern that held the highest

"The latest model," assured Kelm. "I had it installed while I was in Europe. We had to reinforce the floor of

this room with steel girders. How many men did it take to get the safe in here, Wellingford?"

"And they had a lot of trouble," chuckled Kelm. "The safe weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of five

tons. I believe I have the exact figures somewhere. Ah! We can discuss that later. Here is Inspector Cardona."

The "friend" who accompanied Cardona was a squattish man, who had a bulldog face. Kelm introduced the

Whispers buzzed among the group, for Franzy was a notorious bank robber, recently convicted for an

attempted burglary. Nick had opened a tough safe in rapid style, but had lingered too long while gathering the

"Franzy has met with financial complications," announced Kelm. "He has a chance to avoid prison by the

payment of a fivethousanddollar fine. Unfortunately, he doesn't have the money. I have offered to provide

Kelm gestured toward the safe. Franzy looked at Cardona, who nodded that it would be all right. His ugly lips

curling in a smile, the notorious Nick stepped forward and set to work before an interested audience.

In fifteen minutes, the safecracker was sweating. He turned around, glared at the group, then appealed to

"Gimme a break, Joe. These stuffed shirts hand me the willies! How'm I going to bust his box and beat the

rap, if they stick around? I never done this act for the public. It ain't fair, Joe. I gotta be alone!"

Kelm agreed that the plea had merit. He ushered his guests from the room, and beckoned Cardona to follow.

"You'll find the five thousand in the safe, Franzy, and a great deal more besides. Take the cash as payment,

DURING the next three hours, the group discussed the Hooded Circle and the man who had identified

Producing sheaves of police reports, Cardona showed that the law had gone to heroic limits seeking traces of

"We used the dragnet," affirmed Joe, "and we picked up a few gorillas who used to be with Cleek's outfit.

They say they don't know anything about him, and they stuck to that story after we grilled them all night.

"Which means nothing except that Cleek was smart enough to steer shy of any guys that he thought we'd

find. Cleek's the kind that gets plenty of torpedoes any time he needs them. What's more, he's smart when it

Kelm asked if Cardona thought that Hayde was hiding out with Cleek. Cardona wasn't sure on that point.

"Maybe Cleek sent Hayde out to Chicago," asserted the inspector. "That would account for the longdistance

call that came to Mr. Merton, unless" Joe gave a shrug "unless the call was faked. On the contrary, maybe

"One thing I'll bet, though. If there's any snooping to be done around here, Hayde's the man they'll send. He

pulled the lonehand stuff that night he went after the truck driver. If I was walking around this park and saw

Though Joe's statement was both serious and logical, it brought smiles from the listeners. One man inquired:

"I'd run like hell!" returned Cardona, "unless I had a dozen other fellows with me. A bunch of Hoods would

mean Cleek Dargo and his mob. I'm warning you, those birds can shoot! In fact, they've proven it!"

Listeners nodded in agreement, with one exception. Lamont Cranston did not share the general opinion.

When the time limit ended, they went to the strong room. They found Nick Franzy, his shirt drooping from

his belt, his fingers raw with sandpaper that he had used to increase his sensitive touch. The floor was strewn

Nick went frantic. He couldn't believe that the three hours were gone. He was actually weeping when

Cardona led him out. Some of the Pinewood residents felt sympathetic, and suggested that Kelm might lend

"Why spoil a perfect situation?" he queried. "We have positive proof that this safe can't be cracked, because

Franzy is going to jail. A good story for you, Burke" Kelm turned to the reporter "and in a few minutes,

Kelm went to the safe. He turned the combination, covering the dial as he did. Pulling the door wide, he

showed the interior, glistening with the silvery sheen of steel. He brought out bundles of bonds and bank

"These are the bonus that Franzy failed to get," gloated Kelm. "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars in

cash and negotiable bonds. Well gentlemen, will my strong room do for Pinewood? Is a fiveton safe a good

Voices assented that it was, but again there was one listener who remained unimpressed. The lips of Lamont

The ways of the Hoods were many. So far as Pinewood was concerned, the Hooded Circle was prepared for

No hazards, no difficulties, could disturb that band of crooks, provided that such obstacles were confined to

THE rest of that day, Courtney Kelm was busy taking custody of valuables that came his way. It was amazing

how much hidden wealth there was in Pinewood. From their own puny strong boxes and flimsy hiding

places, people were digging up jewels, cash, securities, and other things they valued.

Clyde Burke was keeping tally while the flow came in. Kelm gave receipts for everything. He admired family

heirlooms in the shape of antique jewelry; he smiled when he saw wads of money that almost smelled of

"Where our wealth lies," he repeated, "there will our hearts be found also. Rather than have any of you feel

concern over the temporary absence of your valuables, I would like you to spend the evening here.

"It's just like when you send the children away. The first night they are gone, you worry. After that, you feel

relieved. So drop in here, everybody, and stay until dawn. You'll feel better. So will I."

In between times, Clyde called the Classic office and reported what was happening in Pinewood. According

to Clyde's estimate, other residents of the wealthy colony had more than doubled the amount that was already

in Kelm's burglarproof safe. The city editor asked if he could rate the final total as half a million. Clyde

All the while, Clyde kept thinking what a marvelous comeon the newspaper accounts would be for New

York crooks. Maybe a lot of other outlaw tribes would feel like muscling in on Cleek Dargo's territory. But

Clyde stiffened his reports with exaggerated statistics regarding the number of guards on duty.

His story had a solid ring of deputies surrounding the entire Pinewood area, with hordes of patrolling servants

stumbling over one another within the grounds. Actually, Clyde knew that caterers' trucks would be

inspected, and strange cars observed. But the precautions that really counted would be centered around

Clyde did not bother to mention Rudler's large collection of curios and the special guard that would be

With evening, Lamont Cranston strolled from Benholme's house, faultlessly attired in evening clothes. He

Harry Vincent was at the wheel wearing a Tuxedo. The agent looked toward the baggage rack in back of the

"Leave them with Hawkeye." The Shadow's tone was his own. "He will have them ready when required."

Kelm's big mansion was brilliantly illuminated. Welcoming his guests in his usual hearty style, Kelm harped

on the details of his elaborate alarm system, which gave the strong room added protection.

"Go anywhere you like," he said. "The Italian garden is an excellent place on a moonlight night like this. Or

stay indoors, if you prefer. You are safe anywhere upon my property, just as your possessions are safe in my

Strolling to the expansive Italian garden, The Shadow mingled with other guests. All were pleased to see

Cranston present, including Marjorie who was chatting with Rudler when The Shadow chanced along.

"Since you're here, Mr. Cranston," said the girl, earnestly, "I really feel that everything is as safe as Mr. Kelm

"I feel quite safe, too," was Cranston's smiling reply, "because I understand that your new chef is helping in

"Yes, Jericho is here," laughed Marjorie. "I haven't forgotten him, Mr. Cranston. But don't try to give others

all the credit for the other night. I was there, and know how much you did. Remember?"

Soon, Cranston had strolled to a corner of the garden. The moonlight wasn't as Kelm had advertised it, for the

night was quite cloudy and rain was imminent. Off in the dark The Shadow could see the distant blinks of

Cranston's fingers flicked away a cigarette. His hands closed the lapels of his coat across his white shirt front.

Keen eyes roved the garden, saw that no other guests were close. A few strolling paces past the hedge and

One person immediately noted his absence Marjorie Merton. The girl was standing alone, for Rudler had

been called into the house to talk with Kelm. Walking past other guests, Marjorie looked for Cranston, was

She was wearing her golden evening gown. Feeling somewhat conspicuous, Marjorie moved into the shelter

of the hedge. Looking across she saw two figures moving beneath the trickling moonlight.

An instant later they were gone but not before Marjorie had stifled a horrified gasp.

MARJORIE had to find Cranston! Maybe he had gone to a car parked between the stables and the garage

Keeping to shelter as well as she could, Marjorie reached the stable. She saw a dim light from a small open

window, was sure she heard a voice. Breathless, she peered through the window, spied a hunchy, wizened

He was listening to someone who spoke from the darkness beyond a lighted lantern. Marjorie caught the

She was thinking only in terms of the Hooded Circle; and the wizened man, who happened to be Hawkeye,

Whispers ended. Marjorie saw Hawkeye start out, carrying the lantern. Afraid that she would be discovered,

she dashed for Kelm's garage, knowing that some of the servants had quarters on the second floor.

At a rear door of the garage, Marjorie ran into someone. Turning to dash away, she heard a woman's voice:

It was Therese. The maid had come through the gate from the Merton property. She had recognized Marjorie

by the golden gown. Anxiously, Therese asked what the trouble was, which called for some quick thinking on

It was too late to find Cranston. It would be folly to spread an alarm regarding the Hoods until Marjorie could

be sure that they were actually about. Remembering The Shadow's methods, Marjorie had an impulse to stalk

"You're the one person I wanted to find!" the girl undertoned to Therese. "I'm going for a horseback ride in

the moonlight, but daddy would be worried if he knew it. I want you to wear my gown; you can change into it

upstairs. Go to the Italian garden and keep strolling among the hedges. You'll easily pass for me, Therese."

Whipping off the sleeveless gown, Marjorie handed it to Therese, along with its slip. While the maid was

stammering protests, Marjorie gave her the golden slippers and the stockings that matched them. Taking

advantage of temporary moonlight, Marjorie dashed through the gate and started for her own house.

Moonlight showed a slender figure streaking across the lawn. Clad in trifles of pinkish silk, Marjorie was as

visible as before, and far more likely to be noticed. But her surprising lack of costume gave her an amazing

Reaching the shelter of the house, Marjorie slackened her pace. Gingerly, she crossed the gravel drive and

entered the side door, panting relieved sighs when she found it unlocked. She had never known that she could

run so fast; still, she had never tried it before with only a few ounce handicap.

Fear of meeting Hoods had spurred her, but that terror was over. All she needed would be some dark clothes,

Rather than waste time digging up the riding habit and getting into it, Marjorie opened a closet in the lower

hall. She found a pair of dark tennis shoes, an old black slicker and a brown hat belonging to her father.

Those were all she needed. Putting on the shoes, she wrapped herself in the slicker and tried on the hat. It was

oversize, and she was able to bundle her lighthued hair completely out of sight.

Arming herself with the gun from her father's library, Marjorie set forth from the house.

FROM a window of Kelm's living room, Wilmer Merton was looking anxiously toward the Italian garden. A

At last, Merton caught sight of a girl in a golden gown strolling under a shelter beyond a low hedge. With a

"My safe isn't large enough to hold your curios," Kelm was saying, "but my strong room is. Why not get

them over here tonight, so that we can concentrate all our protection in one place."

"Cranston, for one," replied Kelm, "and Inspector Cardona, if he is willing to go."

Kelm turned to Cardona, who was standing by. Cardona said it suited him; he didn't like a holiday unless it

"You find Cranston," Kelm told Rudler, "and I'll have Wellingford get some of the servants, including

It was Rudler's turn to look toward the garden. He didn't see the figure in gold, but he did spy shapes moving

along behind a hedge. They weren't hooded, but they didn't look like regular patrollers.

Rudler wheeled toward Kelm. At that moment Wellingford entered, ahead of his master's summon.

"There's something wrong with the alarm system," announced the butler. "I just tested it, sir, and the current

At that moment, a loud clangor swept the house. The alarm system was certainly back in order, and ringing at

full force. Guests came dashing into the living room; women's screams chimed with the raging bells.

Thinking of Marjorie, Merton sprang toward the window, saw the men across the hedges where Rudler had

Flipping the window open, Rudler vaulted the sill. Merton followed showing remarkable agility. Other guests

went in that direction, but Kelm, thinking of the wealth intrusted to him, made for the doorway, grabbing

Side by side, each with a gun, Kelm and Cardona dashed upstairs, with Wellingford close behind them. The

butler was howling for servants, but the noise drowned his shouts. Only one man appeared, he was Jericho,

Before they reached the strong room, they saw that the doors were open. Kelm paused, but Cardona returned

When Wellingford hesitated, Jericho brushed the butler aside and came in, like a mighty background, to

All three stopped. Wellingford's peaked face poked in beside Jericho's shoulder; the butler's gape became as

The strong room was empty! In a time period of not more than fifteen minutes, crooks had unlocked the

Yes, the strong room was empty; really empty. Whether or not Kelm's fiveton safe had been opened, was a

question that would remain unanswered. For the safe wasn't there. In its place yawned an empty alcove!

The Hooded Circle had staged its greatest mystery, along with its most profitable theft. Gone without a trace,

the massive safe was in their keeping, the pooled wealth of Pinewood still within it!

OUTSIDE Kelm's mansion, the stabbing reports of guns were sounding sharp amid the incessant clang of the

alarm. Merton, Benholme, Rudler, half a dozen more of the auxiliaries, were shooting for the hedges, with

Shots were answering them, quite as ineffectively, as a small squad of opponents beat a rapid retreat. The

moon was shining through the slight rain, and there wasn't a glimpse of a Hood anywhere in the vague

The men beyond the hedges were The Shadow's agents. Drawn there by Hawkeye, they had left their

respective squads and were spreading as an inner cordon, to combat enemies that only The Shadow had been

They were answering his signals, those agents, at the very moment when Merton had given his misguided

Off to the rear of the house, The Shadow could see the quandary of his agents. He knew where the Hoods

were, on the other side of the mansion. It was too late to draw the battle there. It would have to be driven.

Speeding forward, The Shadow raised a challenging laugh that offered impartial opposition to all fighters,

good or evil. Merton and the others in the garden knew that the defiance was meant for them. The Shadow

Where his agents couldn't risk close shots, The Shadow supplied skimming marksmanship. Bullets actually

grazed aiming gun hands; other slugs whined past ears that could hear them sing, could feel the scorch of the

The opposition broke. Merton and Benholme went scrambling for the house with the rest. Rudler, an

experienced fighter, was loath to follow, but realized that he couldn't stand the gaff alone against a marksman

They didn't stop when they reached the house. Inside, they heard windows shattering behind them thought

that they could catch challenging taunts tuned to the closer clangor of the alarm bells. They dashed right

through, to get out the other side, which was what The Shadow wanted them to do.

Already, The Shadow's agents were following their chief's cue and rounding the house by the back. They had

to come into the light which was excellent, since they were promptly recognized as persons belonging in

The agents fired blindly toward deep darkness off beyond the driveway. They dived as soon as they pulled

their triggers; good policy, for they were promptly answered by shots. The Hoods had been located before

Merton and his companions, coming out through a side door, ended their pellmell tactics, to fire for the

darkness where the Hoods were gathered. Cardona and Kelm appeared on a secondstory porch, where

Just then, a patrol car, swinging in by the driveway, opened on the Hoods with a weapon more timely than

guns. A strong spotlight sliced the gloom, showed the grayrobed tribe beside a truck that they had captured.

In all, the Hoods numbered less than a dozen, and they were beset by more than a score of foemen.

They started the truck across a lawn and through a hedge, throwing off two guards that they had bound and

gagged. The spotlight, trailing them, was met by a broad glitter produced by the glossy sides of Kelm's safe.

A CAR swung off through the hedge, carrying those Hoods who hadn't managed to go with the truck. This

time, robbery was traceable, crooks were actually seen getting away with the swag. So far the Hoods were

practically unscathed in the quick conflict, but pursuers were rapidly starting on their trail.

There was a strong chance, too that the Hoods could be cut off. Proof occurred before the truck had gone a

hundred yards. Rounding a curve, the truck's hooded driver snarled to his pals as a solitary figure rose to

He had cut through to block the route. His guns were roaring and his strident laugh betokened his intention of

downing the Hoods singlehanded. The blackcloaked fighter had his longawaited opportunity, for the

Hoods, crowded in beside the stolen safe, were in no position to meet an antagonist head on.

Bullets shattered the windshield. The driver dropped, as did the only Hood beside him. A few shots more and

Hoods would be clambering from a wrecked truck in the middle of the road, with pursuers on hand to

He literally ripped a big front tire with his fire. The truck veered to the left like a living thing contorted with

pain. It ripped away the entire rail of a short, rustic bridge that lay between it and The Shadow.

With a long jounce that made the safe bounce up to the roof, the truck struck a shallow gully that formed the

Careening along its newfound course, the driverless truck had found the lucky avenue it needed. Its wheels

couldn't climb the banks, which were slightly more than its own width. Hoods were diving through to the

driver's seat, to take control. Despite disaster, they were getting away from The Shadow!

Other Hoods ditched their car and took to the woods. They were hoping to ambush pursuers, and The Shadow

saw their plan. He drove in upon them, tattooing shots against the trees where they were seeking cover. They

By then, the truck was far out of range. Crippled, it couldn't follow the stream bed long, but there was a

chance that the Hoods might reach other cars upon a more distant driveway. Blazing a trail for others to

The Shadow's agents were among the first arrivals at the wrecked bridge. They followed their chief's

They came upon the truck, bashed against the bridge of another curving road. Raking it with shots, they

Other cars could be heard in the distance. The pursuers decided that there must be another truck among them

one that had picked up the safe. Though the Hoods, it seemed, were superhuman in their rapid handling of a

The thing to do was spread, by car and on foot, in order to circle the Hoods. They couldn't be far away, and

the various pursuit squads were beginning to operate in clockwork fashion. They set out to their new task

with a zest, confident that they would regain the safe and at least a few Hoods with it.

Moonlight had returned, to make it tougher for the Hoods. Yet, somehow, the hunt proved difficult. Roving

groups raised a great hue and cry; but always, it seemed, they came upon others of their own kind. Reports

from deputies, circling in from the gates, affirmed the fact that no truck had gone through.

There was no trace of The Shadow. The fact did not perturb his agents. They were sure that he was stalking

Moving along a wooded path that fringed the edge of a ravine, The Shadow could hear men scuffling up

The Shadow was willing to wait for the climax that he wanted. There was a chance that the laboring Hoods

Deep in a cluster of brambles, Marjorie Merton heard the Hoods when they went by. She guessed who they

were, because they were using flashlights very sparingly. Protected by overhanging trees, their cowled

Just where she was, Marjorie did not know. She had been halfway back to Kelm's when the shooting started.

With guns popping in from every direction, Marjorie hadn't known who was friend or foe.

Remembering how fast she had run before, she had started off again much handicapped by the slicker. She

was glad, though, that she had kept it, when she reached the brambles. The rubberized surface was an

Somehow, her nerve returned when she heard the Hoods pass. Marjorie realized that they were actually the

hunted ones. She had intended to search for them, and this was the time to take up the trail. Working from the

brambles, Marjorie kept in a parallel direction, finding good footing with her tennis shoes.

It wasn't long before the Hoods paused at a small clearing. Marjorie could see them at last; their hooded

heads were quite plain in the moonlight. She wondered why they had paused, until she saw the lights of a car

whisk along a road. Evidently, some had gone ahead to report when the path was clear.

Marjorie heard stumbles in the darkness, as though the Hoods were pushing onward with some large burden.

What puzzled her was the fact that she could still see two hooded heads bobbing in the moonlight.

Suddenly, she recognized that they must be the rear guard. Evidently they were talking something over.

The girl was in the shelter of the trees. Sure that her slicker and dark hat would be indistinguishable in the

darkness, she approached. The ground was soft; she made very little noise, though once the Hoods seemed to

turn in her direction. It was difficult to tell, however, which sides of their cowls were masks.

Marjorie decided that they could not see her. She forgot that her slicker only extended halfway below her

knees. Actually, the Hoods were staring toward her, observing the unusual phenomenon of a pair of trim

She had her gun ready when the Hoods rose. Before she could think to tug the trigger, they swooped upon

her. One caught the gleam of her gun, wrested the weapon from her hand. The other grabbed the hat and

As Marjorie's hair dropped, golden in the silver moonlight, she heard a recognizing snarl voiced in concert by

There was doom in that recognition. These Hoods knew that Marjorie had pried into their affairs again. She

Frantically, Marjorie twisted away. When they grabbed for the slicker, she pulled out of it. She didn't want it,

not with the road so close. Could she but reach the road, she would show a faster pair of heels than she had

Getting to the road was the problem. Lacking the dark slicker, Marjorie was a perfect target. She heard a gun

blast behind her, a second shot followed. Lengthening her stride she struck a tree root and sprawled at full

Again, a gun barked. Coming up to her knees, Marjorie lifted her trembling hands painfully. She faced back

toward her enemies. She felt like sobbing, though more through misery than fear. Her courage wasn't gone,

She was banking on the slender chance that the Hoods might spare her life. If they did, there might be a faint

Then Marjorie was staring at an amazing struggle; one that explained why the Hoods had failed to drop her

with their closerange shots. They were both in the grip of a new antagonist, a blackcloaked fighter who

ON her feet, Marjorie was stumbling forward to give what aid she could. Closer, she was horrified to see that

the Hoods were forcing The Shadow over the edge of a jutting cliff, above the deep ravine. Wildly, she hoped

What little Marjorie could have done was never needed. The grapple took a sudden turn. Gripped between the

One Hood was swung over the brink; hurling his full weight on the other, The Shadow shook the first Hood's

There was a trailing shriek as one robed figure disappeared across the edge. Hardly had it died, before

another began. Doubled almost to the ground, The Shadow launched the remaining Hood with a powerful

Guns opened fire from the depths. Marjorie thought that the two Hoods had amazingly escaped doom, until

she realized that at least half a dozen guns were talking. Dropping to the rock, The Shadow answered the

The main squad of Hoods had taken a secret path down into the ravine. They were content to pick up the two

men that The Shadow had tossed down to them and take advantage of their head start to complete their

Turning about, The Shadow flashed a light along the ground. Finding objects there, he picked them up, then

He handed the girl her slicker, hat and gun. As Marjorie spoke her thanks, she saw The Shadow return to the

A laugh chilled the darkness. It rose in a striking crescendo that caught the echoing surface of an opposite

cliff and carried down into the ravine. The hollow seemed to shiver with that vibrant mockery.

Somewhere below, Hoods were wending their way to temporary safety. That mirth was meant for them. Its

It was The Shadow's reminder to the Hooded Circle, telling them that he would meet with them again; that

The Shadow had gained the last links that he needed to complete the chain that would bring an end to crime.

NEVER could Marjorie forget the strange journey that followed the scene upon the rock. She walked in

darkness, following the guidance of a whispered voice that was always at her elbow; yet seldom, even in the

Wearing the slicker, with the brown hat tight upon her head, Marjorie realized that she belonged to darkness,

She was telling her story at intervals tonight's part of it when she was confronted by rising shapes about

her. For a moment, she was fearful, when she realized that The Shadow had brought her to the Druid glen,

that the great shapes were the silent monoliths. Then terror left her, as she heard The Shadow's tone:

Details came back to Marjorie more clearly than they had when she talked to Rudler. At moments the

cromlech seemed peopled with the Hooded Circle; but when Marjorie shuddered, The Shadow's sibilant tone

The girl told of the secret ritual how the leader of the Hoods had brandished the Golden Bough. She

described the fumes that had overpowered her, how she remembered reaching the house, after a period of

As an afterthought, the girl told The Shadow what she had learned about the Golden Bough and the powers of

There was a whispered laugh. It denoted that The Shadow was familiar with such legends, yet it expressed his

interest in the fact that the Hooded Circle actually delved into such longforgotten rites.

Marjorie remembered that The Shadow had been on the watch tower at the time of the Hoods' meeting, too

Again, The Shadow put one of his monotoned statements, that carried the effect of an interrogation:

"Because I thought that no one would believe me," blurted Marjorie. "I told Norton Rudler, he believed me,

because he was suspicious of Dustin Hayde. Afterward, I could have told everyone, but Norton and I agreed

that they would blame me for not speaking earlier. Besides, we were both sure that the Hoods would never

They were walking from the glen as Marjorie spoke. The Shadow's laugh was sibilant. In its tone Marjorie

Evidently The Shadow had supposed that Marjorie had seen little at the meeting, and had remembered none,

Very soon, it seemed, they were back at Marjorie's house, which was dark. Lifting his hand into the

moonlight, The Shadow drew away a glove. Marjorie looked into the depths of a strange fire opal, that caught

"This gem," he said, "is called a girasol. This particular stone is unmatched. It is my only token. Should you

Marjorie shut her eyes, trying to visualize the girasol's appearance. The flickers of the fire opal danced

beneath her eyelids. When she looked again the girasol was gone, along with the hand that held it. So was

Once in the house, Marjorie realized that tonight's adventures must be kept an absolute secret. She stowed the

tennis shoes in the closet along with the slicker and the hat. She had just reached the stairs when Therese

Breathlessly, Marjorie crept up the stairs while the maid was fumbling with the hallway lights. Reaching her

room, she didn't turn on the lights. Finding the riding habit in the darkness, sue pulled it from its hanger and

With a quick fling, she disposed of the scanty things that she was actually wearing and slid into bed. Marjorie

pretended to be asleep when Therese tiptoed in with the golden gown and the other clothes that matched it.

IN the morning, Pinewood was ripe with news. The Hoods had made their escape, taking the stolen safe with

them. They must have doubled back and gone out by the main gates, for the few watchmen had been

Too many had been drawn in by the battle around Kelm's. Thinking the Hoods were trapped, they had

More servants had quit, but this time no one blamed them. Most of the residents of Pinewood were leaving,

too, hoping that their departure would clear the jinx from the manmade garden spot. Having suffered great

financial losses when Kelm's safe was stolen, they hoped some day to sell their houses.

Kelm was staying on, swearing that he would get even with the Hoods. So was Benholme, and Marjorie's

father had also decided to remain. But Norton Rudler intended to leave before nightfall. His house with its

valuable collection of curios was the one place that the Hoods could still raid.

Rudler did not intend to give them the chance. He had arranged for Joe Cardona to send out an armored van.

Rudler and his two servants were busy packing everything for shipment that evening, under auspices that they

Kelm was keeping the guards, and the deputies were still on duty. As for servants, except for the few quitters,

the rest remained. Their employers were having them do the packing, the closing of the houses. Soon,

With Jericho still doing the cooking, Therese promised Marjorie that she would remain. Marjorie had a

chummy chat with her that afternoon. The maid told how she had dodged everywhere during the battle, until

she had reached the room in the Kelm garage where she could exchange the golden dress for her own attire.

Marjorie, in her turn, described how she had been riding Bolivar when she heard the distant shots She had

cantered around awhile, meeting up with searchers, and had been very glad when she stabled the horse and

It was late afternoon when Courtney Kelm called at the house and talked to Wilmer Merton. Marjorie was

coming down the stairway and heard their conference. Kelm was flourishing a paper; Marjorie approached

"What are these things, Merton?" demanded Kelm. "What kind of a crazylooking language does it

"They are runes," returned Merton, with a sharp look at Kelm. "The ancient script used by the Druids. Don't

you ever read the books you buy? Some of them have descriptions of runic characters."

"Someone may have copied them out of a book," he said, "without knowing their meaning at all. Where did

"Fluttering across Benholme's lawn. I called him up and asked him if it was his. He said no, but that he'd seen

"No." Kelm gave a final grunt. "I'll bet he's never heard of them! But Cranston was there while I was talking

IT wasn't quite dark when Marjorie finished dinner. Therese had asked for the evening off, and Marjorie had

granted it. Jericho was alone in the kitchen, when Marjorie happened to enter. The big African arose from his

"I was just waiting to speak to you, Miss Merton," he said. "I allowed I ought to tell you about the strange

"He was mostly voice, that's what," he said. "But I don't mean Mr. Kelm. He's got a big voice, a great big

"Like a ghost!" he said, his own tone awed. "I wasn't scairt, for I don't reckon no ghost can be worser than

them Hoods, and they wasn't so much. But he wasn't a ghost, Miss Merton. Because he give me this."

Triumphantly, Jericho opened his hand. Tiny in his massive paw was a ring with a sparkling stone that

"He said the old watchtower would be a mighty safe place, right now," declared Jericho. "So I said wherever

it was, I reckoned I'd better go along to make sure. He didn't say no to that. He just laughed, like a ghost.

Running upstairs, Marjorie changed to a composite costume of black shoes, dark slacks and a grayish

She knew why The Shadow wanted her to be at the watchtower. He must have learned, by some

Again in the Pinewood area, the Hooded Circle would be watching if they performed their secret rites. But

there was a chance that certain members might be sent on special duty, possibly to trap Marjorie. The nearer

It was dark when the girl reached the watchtower. She took a stone stairway to the top, telling Jericho to

follow. She could see the Druid glen quite plainly in the dull moonlight. This was a good observation point,

Marjorie recalled that the other night had been pitchdark, except for the occasional lightning flashes.

Besides, The Shadow must have been on the lower ground, working toward the glen, at the time the

While she waited, Marjorie asked Jericho if he had heard anything new regarding the Hoods.

"Yes'm," said Jericho, promptly. "They found some of them funny coats, the deputies did."

"Yes'm. Buried under bushes, they was like the fellows that wore them didn't have no use for them no

longer. Took them over to Mr. Kelm's, that's what the deputies did, and stowed them there. Gave them a

Marjorie had a good idea where two of the robes had come from. But since Jericho knew nothing more, she

dropped the subject. Marjorie was concentrated upon the glen, and Jericho was watching, too.

White in the moonlight, the monoliths seemed beckoning the hooded horde that used the cromlech as its

But Marjorie was expecting more. She wanted to see firelight, and witness from this safe distance, the

ceremony of the Golden Bough. Something in The Shadow's laugh had made her realize that the bough was

What it might mean, what the display of the Golden Bough could produce, only The Shadow might know.

Whatever the case, the coming meeting of the Hooded Circle was to include an uninvited visitor.

THE visitor already stood among the monoliths. Close to the great stone known as the Friar's Heel, The

Shadow formed a motionless, black shape, invisible even at close range, for the ground near the fringe of the

Waiting, he watched for the approach of hooded figures; but none came. For once, The Shadow seemed to

hear a mockery directed his way the whispering tones of the waving tree branches, accompanied by

Then, like a ghostly manifestation, the cromlech was peopled by figures in gray!

Only the keen eyes of The Shadow could have detected where they came from. They stepped from the

Those stones were shells faced with stone, probably an idea of old Grimshaw's to save expense in erecting

them. Who had discovered the thing was a moot question, but it accounted for the Hooded Circle's choice of

Here, the Hoods could find quick hiding in any emergency, for the fronts of the hollow monoliths had been

hinged. It also accounted for the way in which Hoods had temporarily managed to disappear when pursued in

The leader of the Hoods stepped from the Friar's Heel. Advancing to the circle, he lighted a readykindled

fire. Other Hoods brought the cauldron and pails of water; they poured the water into the big container which

Despite the firelight, The Shadow remained unnoticed. The circle had drawn inward from the stones; he had

Detail for detail, the rites proceeded as Marjorie had described them, until the leader plucked a trough and

"We do honor to those of our number whose work was ended. For now, our purpose is complete. I propose

that the spoils shall remain in my safekeeping, until the time when I see fit to give each his appointed share!"

Robed hands were raised, swung forward and downward, as the Hooded Circle's token of assent. Late

comers, arriving from the outskirts, instead of from the stones joined in the silent chorus. Then, as though

"Who holds the Golden Bough shall be master! Let anyone who challenges such authority step forward and

As he spoke, he began to lower the bough and bring his other hand from his robe, carrying the powder that

produced colored flames when sprinkled on the fire. But the descending bough stopped suddenly, before its

A hand had plucked it from the hooded leader's grasp. With a wrench, it was gone; a moment later, the

Golden Bough was raised by a taker whose costume differed from those of the Hoods.

PLAIN in the firelight, the blackcloaked challenger was facing the very throng that he had so often battled.

He was speaking words in a curious repeated jargon, that had the monotone of an ancient rhyme. The words

Whatever their past crimes, the Hoods had been held together by a bond more strong than that of mere desire

for evil. Their masked leader had steeped them in the superstition of the ancient Druid rites. They were

fanatics who would accept the medley that they had been taught, ahead of all else.

Friend or foe, The Shadow would become their leader so long as he could keep the bough that he had

wrested. The threat of a gun would not have done it. The Shadow's gloved hands contained no weapon other

Unless the former leader could regain the symbol, he, too, would be taking orders from The Shadow unless

Violently, the dethroned Hood was trying to nullify the ritual, but with no effect. His hand crept toward his

They didn't like The Shadow as their chief, for he could call them to full account for their past crimes. They

hoped that their exleader would prove himself The Shadow's equal; but, like The Shadow, he could not do it

Perhaps the chief crook would have violated the rule if he had not seen The Shadow's hand, moving along

with his. He knew that he would be beaten to the shot, if it came to gunfire. So he grabbed for the Golden

At the end of strained moments, The Shadow's gloved hand gave a slow twist. Still clutching the bough, his

A strange babble rose from the watching Hoods. One moment more, all would be over. Some voiced the

As he heard the word, the sinking Hood made a wild fling with his free hand. A crunched packet readied the

fire within a foot of The Shadow's downwardpressing form. Instead of mere puffs, the compound produced

A vast burst of flame broke from the fire, accompanied by a deafening explosion. The flattening Hood was

away from the blast; so were his followers well beyond the fire. But the sheet of devastating flame hurled its

Not only was he flung headlong, but the huge cauldron followed him pouring out its molten mass. Though he

rolled clear of the spattering liquid, The Shadow failed to ward off the cauldron when it struck him.

Flat on the ground, a dozen feet away, he would have been an easy target had his hooded adversary drawn a

He plucked it from the ground where it had fallen and waved it in front of the other Hoods. Shouts of acclaim

arose; but among them were dissenting voices. There were yells that the leader had already been dethroned,

Impulsively, a small group of Hoods sprang for the man with the bough, tried to take it from him. Others

lifted The Shadow, acclaiming him their leader. Then the hooded chief brought a surge of his own adherents.

At first, they slugged at close range. Then, as a few managed to pull The Shadow from the ring of stones,

Hoods were scattering everywhere; chaos reigned throughout the cromlech. The monoliths served as shields

SUCH noisy strife could not fail to be heard throughout the settlement. Spotlights flashed from roads high

Bawling an order to his throng, the chief Hood dashed from the glen, most of his tribe scattering with him.

The few who held The Shadow made off in the opposite direction, bearing the chief that they had acclaimed.

They were heading in the direction of the watchtower, where Marjorie, remembering her own experience,

But Jericho, though he would have tackled all the Hoods at once on some occasions, preferred merely to

Jericho grinned when the girl flung herself upon the arriving Hoods. Reaching for The Shadow, Jericho

Then masks were off, and Marjorie was staring into faces that she recognized. One of the Hoods was Harry

Vincent; the others were newcomers in Pinewood, including Hawkeye, the wizened man that she had seen the

night before. A third was Clyde Burke, and the reporter set the situation straight.

They were the late comers. They had heard of the meeting and had borrowed the robes stowed at Kelm's in

order to attend it. Who The Shadow was, Clyde didn't seem to know, but he had needed their aid. Finishing

Recovered from the stunning blast, The Shadow didn't want Marjorie to know that these were his agents,

The real Hoods were gone and the glen was being invaded by the deputies. The Shadow spoke, in a weary

whispered tone that those near him heard. They scattered, discarding their robes as they went. When Marjorie

On the way back to the house Marjorie and Jericho met up with servants who were scouring the region in

another fruitless hunt for vanished Hoods. The search was dying out when they reached Benholme's house,

where Marjorie saw her father's car outside. Stopping there, the girl found Lamont Cranston talking with the

Cranston had just come in from the search, and looked very tired. He looked toward the telephone when

Benholme answered an unexpected ring, watched closely while the portly man talked. Hanging up, Benholme

"It was Rudler!" he exclaimed. "He wants to know why the armored van hasn't arrived."

"He will have to ask Kelm," interjected Merton. "As I understand it, Kelm was going over to the gates to

"Why is Rudler worried?" queried The Shadow, in Cranston's quiet tone. "Is anything wrong at his house?"

"Rudler received a call from Hayde," he declared, dramatically, "warning him not to ship his curios away.

All were startled by the news, except Cranston, who wore a slight smile. When the phone bell rang again, he

gestured for Benholme to answer. Grabbing the phone, Benholme spoke a few words; then, with a gulp, he

ACROSS the wire, The Shadow heard the voice. It was Hayde's; the missing artist was speaking in the slow,

"This is my only warning, Cranston," came Hayde's forced croak. "You are to leave Pinewood at once or

The receiver clicked. Turning, The Shadow quietly repeated the warning that Hayde had given him. Then,

very solemnly, he told Harry Vincent to bring his car. The others nodded: it was Benholme who said,

"Because I'm going over to see Rudler?" interposed The Shadow. "Why not? He and I have both been

threatened, so why shouldn't we stick together and see what Hayde intends to do about it?"

As it started away the other men came to their feet. They were going over, too, all of them. They should have

known what Cranston's answer would be. Of all who had warred against the Hoods, none had surpassed

Marjorie smiled when she heard that claim. Though she regarded Cranston highly, she could have named a

NORTON RUDLER was warm in his greeting when Lamont Cranston arrived. Rudler and his servants had

packed all the curios in boxes of many sizes, and were waiting for the armored van, when Hayde's call came.

"You've done just what I'd expect you to do, Cranston," he said. "But there's no need to take the risk. Hayde

is crooked, but he's crazy, too. He's beaten, and he knows it. That means he might do almost anything!

"I've just heard from Kelm. He's coming from the gates. Cardona is with him, and so is the armored van.

Everyone is looking for the Hoods, so this is one job they won't be able to manage."

When Cranston quietly decided to stay, Rudler gave a pleased smile even though he continued his

headshakes. Soon, the men arrived from Benholme's, and the armored van showed up shortly afterward.

Cardona introduced the crew, all picked men. They began to help Rudler's servants take the crates out to the

Some of the boxes were heavy, though none were too great a burden for the four men who handled them.

There were bulky ones, however, that offered some difficulty when they put them into the van. That was why

Cardona stood by with a group of watchful deputies until the van was nearly loaded.

All that remained were a few loose items, including the thick window drapes. Mopping his forehead, Rudler

"Well it's as good as over. I'm riding to New York in the van. Want to come along, Cranston? Or do you think

The Shadow seemed to be weighing the question, while Rudler and his men took down the curtains. They

came to the final window. Reaching it first, Rudler began to loosen the drape. Then, with a mad shout, he

Out from the corner of the loosening drape came a tight hand, gripping a revolver. Above, thrusting from the

depths of the hidden window ledge, a sallow face followed, its evil, bulging eyes glaring as if in search of

With no gun handy, Rudler had dived in time to escape the pointing revolver. It was directed straight across

the room toward the remainder of the group, where Cranston stood in the very center, a perfect target for the

Cranston's speed was so rapid that no one even followed it. While others were grabbing for guns, The

Shadow had one out. He ripped three shots toward the curtains while Hayde's gun fist was still shoving

The blasts of the .45 were terrific in that emptied room. While the echoes still resounded, Hayde's figure

One of the men who had fumbled his gun was Joe Cardona. The ace inspector had just entered, pocketing his

Police Positive. He hadn't had the revolver in position for a quick draw. But Joe was the first to reach Hayde's

Stooping, he saw where a bullet had reached the crook's heart. Cardona displayed correct approval.

"Dead!" he announced. Then, turning to The Shadow: "I thought you said you couldn't shoot, Mr. Cranston."

THE SHADOW smiled. The curtain had fallen to the floor; Cardona started to spread it over Hayde's body.

"When I saw that mug," announced Cardona, solemnly, "I knew it in a jiffy. He was out to kill, and he got

what was coming to him. Three slugs in a row, before anyone could pull a gun except the man who got him."

"That's the number you fired," returned Cardona. "I counted them. I'd say they all scored."

"Of course they did," put in Rudler, extending his hand to The Shadow. "Congratulations, Cranston! I saw the

Solemnly, The Shadow handed his automatic to Cardona, who took it, rather puzzled.

"You won't have to answer a charge," began Joe. "Hayde was wanted. Besides, this isn't my territory. All I

"An expert witness," corrected The Shadow. "Knowing guns, you should be able to identify bullet holes from

"No, that I am quick with a gun, but very bad in aim. I suppose the recoil must have jarred my hand, but I

didn't hit Hayde once. In fact" The Shadow's tone became reproachful "I even missed the window!"

As he spoke, he pointed. Staring Cardona saw that the frame around the window was studded with three

widely scattered bullet holes, all bearing indications of .45caliber bullets. Dumfounded, Cardona racked his

"Say!" he exclaimed. "Those glassy eyes of Hayde's! I saw them past the curtain, and" Joe swung to the

body on the floor "they haven't changed a bit. Hayde was dead before he even shoved into sight!"

Cardona's face tilted up. He gave a shout, as excited as the one that Rudler had raised a short while before:

RUDLER was wheeling toward the door, aiming savagely with a hastily drawn gun. He was picking

Cranston as his target, intending to settle matters with the man he knew to be The Shadow.

But Cranston, too, was wheeling; he had been watching Rudler in the reflected window pane.

The Shadow's second automatic was already in his fist, drawn as quickly as the first. His gun blasted before

Rudler even found the revolver trigger; this time, The Shadow's aim was actually directed for its human

Rudler's servants saved him. Lunging in, they were yanking guns, too. One took the first shot, as Rudler

dived beyond him and made for the front door. Sidestepping, The Shadow turned to get the other, when

Shattering a window with his next bullet, The Shadow leaned out through the vacancy to get another shot at

Again, the selfrevealed crook was lucky. The men from the armored van had tried to grab him; they were

Off past the truck, Rudler actually seemed to dodge the shots of excited deputies. He reached a car, leaped

He was hardly in motion before The Shadow sprang through the window, carrying the odd glass with him,

The chase was on, and behind The Shadow's car came others bringing Cardona and a crowd of new pursuers.

Rounding the many bends in the twisty road, Rudler was keeping just ahead of gunfire, but his flight seemed

He knew Rudler's game. The man was the leader of the Hooded Circle. Hayde had been his tool until tonight,

living hidden in Rudler's house, badly wounded, as Hayde's voice had indicated. But Hayde, in Rudler's

Death had followed Hayde's call to Cranston. Death delivered by Rudler, that he might stage a dramatic act

with a hidden man behind the curtain. He had expected The Shadow to shoot swiftly, the moment that the

The Shadow had caught Hayde's glassy stare, and understood it, before tugging his trigger for the first shot.

Outsmarted, Rudler had taken to flight; but he was not beaten. This wasn't a madman's flight on which he had

embarked. Rudler was counting upon support that would enable him to turn the chase the other way and settle

matters with The Shadow, in a fashion that would slaughter other lives wholesale.

This, Rudler thought, would be a circuit dash, returning to the original starting point, where he would arrive a

ROCKETING around a bend, Rudler's car passed one of the Pinewood houses, where servants, hearing the

approach of many cars, were coming out with guns. They didn't shoot at Rudler, for they recognized him

Harry, at the wheel, grinned as he heard the first shots roar. They came from the car itself. The Shadow was

Another house rose into sight. Again, Rudler signaled, shouting as he did so. He was cursing the first pair

In the third car, Joe Cardona was crediting Rudler with the crippling of the servants, but he learned the truth

when the caravan swung past Kelm's. There, half a dozen servants sprang from everywhere, accompanied by

Cardona saw them deliberately let Rudler pass, to take aim at The Shadow. This time, guns were too many,

and Joe wasn't close enough to help. But The Shadow had the allies that he needed other men who were

They were The Shadow's agents. They opened a crossfire on the crooked servants that sent them scattering,

shooting wildly. Waving from his window, Cardona gestured to the following cars. They veered in at Kelm's.

By then, The Shadow's agents were cutting off beyond the house, leaving only the crooks in sight. Foolishly,

the unmasked Hoods took shots at the arriving cars. Already crippled, they were peppered into submission.

Up ahead, Rudler seemed to know what was happening. He veered his course toward the gates. When he

Immediately, the deputies became the targets of three guns aimed by veteran watchmen who had served for

years in Pinewood. Like the servants, the watchmen were members of the Hooded Circle!

Attempted murder failed. The Shadow had sent his own representative to keep secret guard over the gates.

Lunging out from shelter, Jericho arrived with one gigantic leap, flattening the clustered watchmen to the

earth. They writhed about under Jericho's spreading arms, but his hands grabbed weapons quicker than theirs

The weapons that Jericho used were the ones closest to hand the heads of his opponents. He simply banged

them together, doing it very neatly on this occasion. Where he usually banged two heads at a time, in this

instance he had three. Taking two, he slapped them inward with his giant hands, cracking the middle one

Rudler made a wide swerve. The deputies gave him a barrage of bullets. As he drove for another road, The

Tires blasted, Rudler's car hit the ditch. He was out, and away through the woods. Sweeping cloak and hat

Cannily, Rudler was looking back, sweeping a flashlight from behind trees, hoping to spot his trailer. He had

seen The Shadow last as Cranston, and hoped he could pick him out. But Rudler failed to glimpse the

Gunfire was fading in the distance. Tonight, it did not mean a failing chase of vanishing Hoods. It meant the

failing of the crooks themselves. Rudler knew it, because his tribe had not supported him. Craftily, he was

Down through gullies, over obscure paths, the course led to the Druid glen. There, stealing among the hollow

monoliths, Rudler used his flashlight rapidly. At moments he aimed his gun, then withheld his fire, deciding

that streaks of moving blackness were merely those cast by the imitation druid stones.

Reaching the Friar's Heel, Rudler yanked open its false front and stooped inside. He came up with an armful

of roundish objects bombs and grenades, like those he had used in certain crimes. With such a supply, he

Rudler couldn't handle his flashlight, but he didn't need it. He could see the Druid stones by the scanty

moonlight. Laying the bombs at his feet, he drew out a hooded robe; still keeping his revolver ready, he

He was going out of here in full regalia, the last of the Hooded Circle, unless a few others rallied when he

came along. He slid the mask across his face, found the eye slits and looked toward the monoliths.

SLIPPING from one shelter to another, The Shadow had neared the Friars Heel before Rudler adjusted the

robe. Those moments when the chief crook had been hunting for the eye slits were all that The Shadow

Meeting The Shadow gun to gun, Rudler made a desperate effort to get back into the opened stone.

He was firing with one hand, grabbing his bombs with the other. His shots were wide, and in the frenzied

The Shadow, firing for Rudler's gun hand on the chance of taking him alive, triggered a perfect shot just as a

The bullet took the bomb. As it blasted, The Shadow dived back to a monolith. The first explosion brought

other bursts, that finally culminated in one terrific roar. The ground quaked under the combined explosions.

Looking toward the Friar's Heel, The Shadow saw a gaping space where it had been. The great hollow stone

was gone, along with the plotter who had used it as leader of the Hooded Circle. Nothing was left of Norton

From a tree that crackled under the explosive thunder, there came a chance token that seemed a relic of the

past. It was a broken bough, that dropped erratically and fell to earth directly on the spot where Rudler had

Brought there by the noise of the explosions, other men reached the glen, to find the last traces of Rudler's

finish. The Shadow was gone; they met him as Cranston, when they reached Rudler's house.

There, under Cardona's direction, men were bringing in the bulky boxes from the van.

The first crate disgorged Hayde's gilded picture frames. While others stood puzzled, thinking that the frames

had burned in the truck fire, Cranston approached. Weighing the frames, he found the heavy end. Then,

THE first robbery was explained. Approached by Rudler, Hayde had deliberately tricked the paintings, to

prepare for their theft later. Each picture was a roller, held by a catch at the bottom of the frame.

Onlookers watched Cranston release a catch. A minute passed. Suddenly the painting shot upward, out of

sight. Frayed bits glued along the edges made it look as if the painting had been cut from its frame.

"It was my butler, Ackley, who released the catches," exclaimed Benholme. "I remember how he straightened

Benholme's statement fitted with the fact that Ackley was among the servants who had fallen in this evening's

fray. The trusted butler, like so many other servants, had been identified as a member of the Hooded Circle.

"That's why the Hoods tried to stop us!" exclaimed Cardona, turning to The Shadow. "They didn't want

Benholme to open the gallery again, until they had time to blow the wall apart and make it look as though

"There was another reason inspector," returned The Shadow, in Cranston's style. "They didn't want you to

He was drawing down the first of the "Seven Hells." Cardona scrutinized it along with the rest. There wasn't a

face in any inferno that looked like Cleek Dargo or any of the mob leader's crew.

"You were following a blind lead, inspector" observed The Shadow. "Hayde probably never met Cleek at all.

That sketch he made from memory was a copy of some photograph that Hayde had seen."

"I get it!" snapped Joe. "Rudler and Hayde picked a guy who was already on the lam. Naturally, Cleek Dargo

wouldn't drop in to see me and tell me I was all wet. Cleek didn't know that he was framed. I guess he just

thought that I was a cluck. Say I know a lot of these mugs! They're just small fry! Dips and panhandlers,

"Who kept low like Cleek," added The Shadow, "because they didn't want to get mixed into a lot of trouble."

Kelm voiced into the subject. His butler, Wellingford, had been slain along with Ackley, proving himself

"Thaddeus must hare belonged to the Circle, too!" boomed Kelm. "His story proved it. He didn't have to

"After he rejoined the Hoods," completed The Shadow. "As with all their own dead, they disposed of his robe

and let him look like a loyal servant who had been fighting for the other side. Of course there were some that

they took away who died on their hands later. Those were the servants who quit without notice."

The case of Thaddeus automatically explained many other instances of duplicity. The fact that Rudler had

coaxed watchmen into the Hooded Circle, along with the servants, accounted for the mysterious ways in

which the Hoods had seemed to go in and out of Pinewood. Always they had faked a trail leading away from

Hayde's ride on the junk truck, the burning of the vehicle, was no longer a meaningless thing. The Hoods had

chosen that method to obtain the picture frames which still held Hayde's paintings.

Their game was to make people think that the frames had burned with all the other junk; but The Shadow,

also a passenger on the doomed truck, knew that Hoods had first removed the frames, and later carried them

From a smaller box, The Shadow was removing stacks of books. They thudded to the floor as he dropped

them; oddly, the stacks did not slide apart. Merton stooped forward, began to read the titles on the books.

"These are sets I sold to you!" he exclaimed, turning to Kelm. "I didn't know they had been stolen."

There were half a dozen of the stacks. One by one, The Shadow lifted them. Each time, a hollow shell came

lightly away. The books were boxes faked as duplicates of volumes belonging to Merton's collection.

IT was Marjorie who quickly understood. She remembered how some wrapped books had been brought back

after the first trip. She recalled, too, how these very books had been carried past her outside the library.

"The real books went on the first trip!" she exclaimed. "Withersham was a Hood; so were your other servants,

Mr. Kelm. Rudler had Hayde make a phone call, so that daddy and I wouldn't notice what Withersham was

"Withersham knew that the keys were usually lying there. He unlocked the cabinet, and the others helped him

put the statuettes in these false books. Why, the theft was done before the Hoods arrived in their robes!"

The second robbery was explained. As at Benholme's, the Hoods had seen the necessity of faking a seizure

after the real work was done. It was their one way of again starting a trail that would lead away from

Everyone looked toward Cranston, to see if he agreed with Marjorie's summary. They saw him nod; then he

"Withersham probably had duplicate keys," he said, "even though he did not have to use them. Because

duplicate keys played an important part in the final robbery." He turned to Kelm and added: "I refer to the

"Duplicate keys?" As he asked the question, Kelm began to grasp the answer. "Ah, yes! So Wellingford could

open the strong room for the Hoods, who were all about us, passing as servants. But no one knew the

For answer, The Shadow picked up a hammer, ripped away a side of the largest box that had come back from

The box was a trifle over five feet square; something that no one had particularly noticed, because four men

The whole group stared, astonished, when they saw the contents of the box. Spick and span, the door of

Kelm's huge safe glistened a blackish greeting to the viewers. Almost timidly, Kelm stepped forward and

With the touch of cold metal, his manner changed. Rapidly, he turned the combination, opened the safe door.

Inside was the stacked wealth of Pinewood, not a penny's worth missing. Rudler had simply left the swag in

While Kelm stepped back, too happy to speak, Cardona picked up the hammer and strode to the safe.

Reaching inside, he began to hammer the walls. The metallic sound didn't have the ring of steel.

"Aluminum!" exclaimed Joe. "Say this thing is a featherweight! Heavy enough to fool anybody, because it

would take three or four guys to carry it easy; but it doesn't weigh half a ton, let alone five!"

"Wellingford's work!" expressed Kelm. "The safe was delivered while I was away. The Hoods must have

"At Rudler's instigation," added The Shadow, "so it would be available for future operations."

Behind the calm tone of Cranston was the trace of a singular mockery, not intended for the present listeners

The Shadow knew how the Hoods had handled their lightweight burden, for he had traced them through

CRIME'S whole truth was out. Kelm and others were enthused over the reclaiming of their treasures

disgorged from the midst of Rudler's wellpacked curios, they failed to fully realize the depths to which The

Shadow had probed. Joe Cardona, thinking of his folly in looking for Cleek Dargo was also tardy in grasping

Alone, Marjorie Merton could appreciate the fine points. At last she understood how she had happened to

The Hoods who had her in their custody were Kelm's servants; they had dropped her off on the way to their

own quarters, where they had stowed their robes and gone out to hunt for crooks who were actually

Another clue for The Shadow, that episode. He had not been surprised to learn that Marjorie was safe. On

that night, with their schemes still well covered, it was policy for the Hoods to leave Marjorie unharmed. The

girl understood why Rudler had coaxed her to give him the full story, and then had advised silence.

He had known that she would talk to him first. As for Marjorie's chance sight of Hayde, peering through

Rudler's window, that was easily explained. Hayde had come to talk to Rudler before the meeting of the

Hooded Circle. Finding himself trailed by Marjorie, Hayde had tried to draw her away from the glen, too late.

Back in his car, parked near the meeting place, Rudler had faked a return from the village, picking Hayde up

along the way. Together, they had spread the footpad story to detract attention from the Hoods, as well as

From all those recollections, Marjorie came to the conclusion that the capable Mr. Cranston was somehow

identified with The Shadow. Approaching him as he was going out to his car, the girl glanced at the ring that

Cranston wore. It was plain gold. She wondered if it had a girasol setting, turned into his palm.

Then, meeting Cranston's gaze the girl thought she saw a sparkle. It reminded her of burning eyes that she

had first seen when a black cloaked invader had dropped from the skylight of Hayde's studio.

Spontaneously, Marjorie spoke of that first appearance of the Hoods. She knew that they must have been

servants, in from Pinewood, staging an attack to alibi Hayde while she was a witness.

Rudler, also wanting an alibi, had of course arranged for the police to arrive, allowing the Hoods time to

"It was Rudler who telephoned Hayde," decided Marjorie, "while he was on his way to the club. About the

"But you hadn't heard the phone bell ring," interposed Cranston, calmly. "Was that it, Miss Merton?"

Marjorie nodded, wondering how Cranston knew. She forgot that her whole account had been thorough in

detail, that her omission of one point would have meant much to anyone who had access to the police reports.

"Of course not," agreed The Shadow. "It was simply Rudler, returning as soon as you were in the dressing

room, to give Hayde some final instructions. Those two had met before, although you didn't guess it. Rudler

CRANSTON was in the car. At the wheel, Harry Vincent was shifting into gear. Shaking hands with

"It was odd how long it took Rudler to get from Hayde's studio to the Cobalt Club. It didn't fit with your

A significance struck Marjorie, as the car pulled away. She was understanding how The Shadow could have

reached the studio so promptly. She was thinking again that Lamont Cranston was The Shadow.

Then, from far away came the rise of a departing laugh that dispelled Marjorie's theory.

The ironic mirth was vague, untraceable. But to Marjorie's fancy it issued from the distant Druid glen, not

For the glen was where The Shadow had broken the Hooded Circle, producing the confusion that had caused

There, in that same glen, The Shadow had again met the master of the Hooded Circle, to finish him like the

rest of the defeated horde. As the triumphant echoes faded, Marjorie was sure that they subsided into the glen