HOUSE OF GHOSTS .........................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. GHOST MANSION ..........................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. TRAIL IN THE NIGHT..................................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. STABS IN THE DARK ..................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. VANISHED PHANTASMS........................................................................................12

CHAPTER V. THE GHOST HUNT.....................................................................................................16

CHAPTER VI. AT THE MANOR........................................................................................................20

CHAPTER VII. HOUR OF GHOSTS ...................................................................................................23

CHAPTER VIII. ONE GHOST LESS ...................................................................................................27

CHAPTER IX. WHITE AND BLACK .................................................................................................32

CHAPTER X. THE NOTE FROM NOWHERE ...................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. CRIME COMES HOME ..............................................................................................39

CHAPTER XII. THE GHOST MAKERS .............................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIII. THE WRONG GHOST.............................................................................................47

CHAPTER XIV. THE GHOST TRAP ..................................................................................................52

CHAPTER XV. INTO THE DARK ......................................................................................................56

CHAPTER XVI. GHOSTS OF DEATH ...............................................................................................59

CHAPTER XVII. THE WRONG TRAIL.............................................................................................63

CHAPTER XVIII. DOOM TO COME.................................................................................................66

CROUCHED like a monster awaiting human prey, Stanbridge Manor loomed ominously in the gathering

night. The tower above the twostory mansion gave the effect of a watching head, while the wings of the

widesprawled building had the look of mammoth arms, ready to close upon wayfarers with a deadly

On the slope that fronted the manor stood a wide stone gateway, yawning a welcome to hapless visitors. The

Stygian gloom of that cavity defeated its greeting, at least by night. As a rule, cars that came along the hill

There was good reason to shun Stanbridge Manor. It was known as a house of ghosts.

The place was a proper haunt for spirits of the dead. Not only did the giant trees behind the mansion form a

weaving background of weird fantastic figures; beneath those trees dwelt the dead themselves. They were the

members of the Stanbridge family, generations of them, interred in the graves of their own private cemetery.

In that graveyard, a presiding figure among the congress of tombstones stood the whitened bulk of a

mausoleum, which served as a temporary shelter for each new addition to the Stanbridge list of dead.

Forbidding as the mansion was to strangers, the mausoleum was equally so to dwellers in the house. For there

were members of the Stanbridge clan still living in the mansion, amid an atmosphere of whispering ghosts

As the fortunes of the Stanbridge family had shrunk, so had the size of the grounds surrounding the manor. In

recent years, the great iron fence that formed the boundary had been shortened and its remnants sold for junk.

No longer did the Stanbridge estate include the home of Wiggam, the old caretaker. It was well outside the

fence, still standing only because Wiggam himself had bought it with his life's savings. Other houses had

been built along the rising slope on ground that once was Stanbridge property, but they had stopped just short

Wiggam's place was the final landmark. After that came the gates through which only Stanbridges passed,

except for Wiggam and Dr. Torrance, who was still the Stanbridge family physician despite his more taxing

TONIGHT, a car was climbing the old road. From the confident way it nosed along, the car obviously

belonged to Dr. Torrance. As it veered into the gateway, its sudden stop was not due to any fright on the

physician's part. True, Torrance had sighted a figure on the driveway ahead, but he knew it wasn't any ghost.

It was only Wiggam, the faithful caretaker, paying his evening visit to the family that he still served, though

Though it wasn't far up to the house, Wiggam accepted Torrance's invitation to ride with him. They sat

together in the car, two gray haired men whose resemblance ended with that feature. Torrance was rugged,

his eyes showing sharply through their glasses, a man whose vitality belied his years. Wiggam on the

contrary looked tired, his face consisting chiefly of droops. Not worry, but disappointment had aged the old

"How are things at the manor, Wiggam?" Torrance put the query in a cheery tone. "Has Roger brightened the

"He should have, sir," replied Wiggam, seriously, "but I'm afraid the ghosts have been too much for him."

"Those ghosts!" Torrance gave a snort as he swung around the final turn in the driveway. "They're all right

for Gustave and Jennifer who have lived here too long for their own good. But they shouldn't bother Roger."

"I know. Roger said so himself. That's why I promised to drop in this evening. I simply want to assure him

As Torrance spoke, a strange thing did occur. Under the shelter of the portecochere, the doctor was turning

off the headlights. From the blackness past the wing of Stanbridge Manor, those lights blinked back, first one

Noting the phenomenon, Wiggam clutched the physician's arm and whispered hoarsely:

"Nothing but reflections," scoffed Torrance. "My eyes are sharper than yours, Wiggam. Come, come, man!

You are more nervous than Roger was, when he called at my office this afternoon!"

Dim was the glow from the deep windows of the mansion as Torrance and Wiggam ascended the front steps.

Giving a loud knock, Torrance opened the door without ceremony and stepped into the house, with Wiggam

close behind him. They came directly into a great hall that served as a living room. Leading from the hall

were arched doorways into other rooms and passages, while at the right, a large staircase curved its way up to

THREE people were seated at the large fireplace situated on the left. One was Gustave Stanbridge, present

owner of the decadent manor, a man whose once florid face had lost all color and whose hair had thinned to

Opposite Gustave was his sister Jennifer, whose highbridge nose and wide eyes marked her as a Stanbridge.

She was older than Gustave, who was not past middle age, yet the woman looked younger than her brother.

Not only did her face still show its color; her eyes were alive, whereas the man's were as dull as those of a

Third in the group was Roger Stanbridge, the recent arrival in the homestead. He was in his thirties, a

handsome man, whose aristocratic features were offset by his friendly smile. Along with the Stanbridge nose,

Roger owned a large shock of hair and his face had the fullness that Gustave's lacked. Perhaps it was the sight

of Gustave that worried Roger, on the basis that he might some day come to resemble his shrunken elder

It was Roger who arose and extended his hand to Torrance. The greeting was warm, yet the doctor noted that

"You see nothing!" interrupted Jennifer in a sharp, but lowpitched tone. "In this house you only hear. The

Ending with a stabbing laugh, Jennifer gestured to an instrument on the low table before her. The object was

like a tiny table itself, a heartshaped contrivance mounted on three small wheels. From its center, a pencil

pointed downward to a sheet of paper that bore numerous scrawls. On one side were blank sheets, on the

"Yes, I've been hearing things," admitted Roger. "Footsteps upstairs and in the kitchen. Whispers through the

doorways. Gustave noticed them, too, but won't admit he heard them. As for Jennifer, she claims she hears

"Ouija board!" The woman's voice was contemptuous. "Such things are for children. It is silly to push a

pointer from one letter to another and have it spell out messages. This is a planchette."

She pointed to the heartshaped thing. With an obliging nod, Dr. Torrance went over and placed his hands on

one side of the roller device, while Jennifer pressed the other. The little stand began to twist between them, its

"You see, Jennifer?" Torrance raised his hands with a depreciating gesture. "Only scrawls, nothing more. The

"Because you are not psychic," snapped Jennifer. "Alone, I have received messages all evening. Messages

Setting her eyes in a hard glare, Jennifer turned them directly upon Gustave, who shifted uneasily in his chair.

Catching Torrance's glance, Gustave sprang to his feet and raised two scrawny hands, both clenched.

"As Heaven is my witness, doctor!" Gustave's voice rose to a scream. "I had nothing to do with Donald's

"And you envied him," inserted Jennifer with her sharp cackle, "because he owned this mansion. Donald died

Waving the written papers from beside the planchette, Jennifer thrust them close to Gustave's face. Savagely,

the dullfaced man snatched the papers and threw them in the fire. Instead of duplicating her brother's rage,

SILENCE followed as Jennifer stalked across the frayed carpet and entered an arched passage under the

stairs. Her footsteps sounded on the bare floor and dwindled into the hollow depths of the house. Gustave

"She's going to get her cape," said Gustave. "She'll be back to tell us that she intends to visit Donald's grave.

She goes there every night and always she looks for the figure in the tower. The figure that means death!"

"Easy, Gustave," soothed Roger. "Jennifer hasn't seen the figure yet. She's only heard things."

"And so have we!" blurted Gustave. "Yes, Roger, I'll admit it! I've heard those footsteps, too. Listen "

Pausing dramatically, Gustave pointed upward. From somewhere on the second floor came creaks that were

distinctly footsteps. Quickly, Dr. Torrance crossed the hall and looked along the passage that Jennifer had

followed. He rubbed his head, puzzled, for it wasn't the direction to the back stairs, the only way by which

Footsteps ceased upstairs. They were followed by a more startling manifestation. Down from the second floor

came a clatter of flying objects; rusted nails that bombarded the steps of the front stairway. Some scattered

through the open banister, striking Torrance's shoulder as he turned to witness peppering objects which were

Starting toward the staircase, Roger Stanbridge halted, his face drawn like Gustave's. It was apparent that

Roger must have witnessed similar manifestations recently and was hesitant about going upstairs. So

Torrance rounded the bottom of the staircase and dashed to the second floor, with Wiggam following him.

They found the upper hallway deserted. Torrance gave a suspicious glance along a passage that led above the

Torrance was referring to the one remaining servant in the Stanbridge household. Roger gave a weary

"Hector has gone to bed," he said. "He always retires early, dogtired after a full day's work. No, doctor, it

Still suspicious, Torrance surveyed the upper passage. To Wiggam, he remarked that Hector couldn't possibly

have fled back to his room in time to avoid observation, a thing with which Wiggam quite agreed. Then,

"Hector could have slipped down to the kitchen!" exclaimed the physician. "Go down there and find him,

Wiggam hesitated as though torn between dread of ghosts and fear of offending Hector. With a return of

At that moment, a terrific clatter intervened. It came from the kitchen, the crash of smashing chinaware

hurled in heavy style. Waving to Wiggam, Dr. Torrance rushed to the back stairs and started down, while

Roger, his boldness returned, made a dash around through the dining room. Seeing Wiggam go with

The four men arrived in the kitchen, to stare aghast at a mass of ruined crockery that had tumbled from a

table beside the sink, along with a candlestick that Hector used when washing dishes, which he hadn't done

"Listen!" Gustave's face was ashen, his voice frantic as he clutched Roger's arm. "Do you hear it?"

From the outside distance came a prolonged shriek, as eerie as a banshee's wail. As the sound trailed,

"Only the evening train, Gustave," spoke Jennifer. "Stopping at Willow Glen, as it did the night when Donald

"The night after Donald died," corrected Gustave in a wavering tone. "It was bringing the specialist from

Throwing back her dark gray cape, Jennifer crossed her arms. Her voice tuned to the fading whistle, she

"Donald will know which of us is right. I shall ask him to write his answer on the planchette!"

As Jennifer turned to go back to the great hall, Gustave followed, pleading vainly for his sister to believe him.

Three people remained in the kitchen, staring at one another above the wreckage of smashed dishes and

Dr. Torrance, man of fact, and Wiggam, the loyal family retainer, could understand, each by his own light,

why Roger Stanbridge was willing to declare that the ghosts of the manor were real!

Like the occupants of Stanbridge Manor, The Shadow heard that same long blare, as he sat in a parked car

So far The Shadow had never heard of Stanbridge Manor, once the pride of Coledale. He was interested

chiefly in checking the direction from which the whistle came, for by his calculations it indicated that the

train must have stopped at some way station before reaching Coledale. So The Shadow added a timetable to

In a car illuminated only by a dashlight, The Shadow was invisible, as well he might be, considering that he

was attired in his favorite regalia, consisting of a black cloak and a slouch hat. As for the objects on the seat

The first exhibits were clippings and photographs. One batch concerned a slylooking gentleman named

Harvey Crispin, wanted for embezzlement of thirty thousand dollars from the funds of an insurance company.

Next in order was Wallace Freer, a smugfaced individual who had turned the same trick on the wholesale

diamond house for which he worked, the chief difference being that Freer had bettered Crispin's grab by

On a road map beside The Shadow was a red line marking Crispin's trail. It stopped at a town not many miles

from Coledale. A blue line traced the travels of Freer and it likewise ended in a nearby town. The inference

Ordinarily The Shadow would have left such cases to the law. There was an important reason why he

As an embezzler, Dorthan outmatched Crispin and Freer combined. In one blow, Dorthan had acquired a

hundred thousand dollars from the bank where he worked; at least he had accumulated that sum by steadily

favoring himself in the books. A few days ago, Dorthan had left the bank. Found there was a dead watchman;

The blame was on a teller named Goodwin, though the fault lay in Dorthan's books. The last man seen to

leave the bank was Goodwin. In fact, he was the only man who seemingly could have slain the watchman;

though he stoutly denied it. The only way to prove Goodwin's innocence was to find Dorthan.

Some people considered the quest impossible. They believed that Dorthan had been murdered like the

watchman, his books falsified to place the blame upon him. But The Shadow did not hold that theory.

Looking up at The Shadow was a photograph of Carl Dorthan. It showed him as a sleek, handsome

individual, whose eyes, even in the picture, had a natural shift. Their fixed stare was an acquired sort, like the

slight but confident smile on Dorthan's lips. In short, Carl Dorthan was a man who tried to look too honest

and even posed for photographs to back the false claim. The Shadow had long since learned to detect those

THE timetable listed a station called Willow Glen, a few miles short of Coledale. It was marked as a flag

stop, but so were many of the other stations on this line. The Shadow decided to detour by the Glen on the

chance that Dorthan had left the train at that station. If the embezzler had gone on to Coledale, he would be

likely to stop at the local hotel, where his trail could be picked up later. So Willow Glen was temporarily of

By the road map, The Shadow picked the only route that led to Willow Glen. It was a drive of a few miles

over a dirt road. Reaching the turn that led to the station, The Shadow turned off the headlights and coasted

the car down the final slope. There was brilliant moonlight, temporarily clear of passing clouds and the glow

Yet the car itself was obscured as it glided between the banks of trees that skirted the moonlit road and the

sudden arrival of a cloud favored the finish of The Shadow's coast. As if timed to the exact second, the scene

went dark, just as the cloaked driver veered the car in beside a structure that would have been mistaken for

Soon a flashlight began to glimmer around the boxlike station. The place was nothing but a tiny waiting

room, lacking even a stove for cold weather. The platform beside the single track was only a path of cinders

mixed with gravel. Why there was even a station at Willow Glen remained unexplained until The Shadow

crossed the track and turned his flashlight on a sign that was nailed against a tree.

The sign pointed to Willow Glen and stated that picnics were permitted. This wasn't the season for picnics,

hence it was odd that the train had stopped. It couldn't have picked up a picnic party, so it was likely that the

train had let off a passenger instead. Such a person couldn't have come along the road or The Shadow would

Along the path there was no moonlight, even when the clouds went by, because the route went through a deep

ravine, rimmed with many trees. Whenever The Shadow's tiny flashlight blinked, it confined itself to the hard

Instead of looking for footprints, which weren't likely to show, The Shadow kept watching well ahead,

hoping to spot a light less guarded than his own. Though he saw no glimmers, he kept along his quest, on the

chance that a man ahead had gained sufficient start to be beyond sight in the turns of the ravine.

Swift, silent were The Shadow's strides along the obscure path. Only once did he pause; that was when a faint

clatter sounded briefly from farther up the path. Continuing his way, The Shadow came upon a rustic bridge

where the path crossed the cascading brook. Though his own tread was silent, The Shadow recognized that

Evidence at last that someone was following the path ahead. Why a man like Carl Dorthan should have

chosen such a place as Willow Glen for this secret visit, seemed plausible only on the basis that the

embezzler intended to bury his money here. Yet that theory had flaws, considering how many more

convenient spots Dorthan might have chosen. Rather it would seem that Dorthan was thinking of his own

When moonlight suddenly showed a wide opening in the ravine, The Shadow did not take it for granted that

Dorthan had continued on to the space which formed the Glen. Still obscured in the darkness of the narrows,

Just short of the Glen was a rocky crag that towered above the defile, a monument left bare by winds and

rains that had washed away the surrounding soil. Up to the crag were other steps of stone, each a dozen feet

The knob at the top formed a protuberance above the highest step and the hollow beneath that inaccessible

crag could have some merit as a hiding place if there was any way to reach it. The Shadow was looking

toward the high cliff when he heard trickling sounds that ended with an abbreviated clatter, not from the face

The man ahead had not continued to the Glen. He had turned off by a side path, going up beside the cliff.

Close to the ground, The Shadow's flashlight probed for the path in question and revealed the dry bed of a

This was the path the fugitive had taken. He was following a steep but tiny gully that in rainy weather served

to drain the heights above the Glen. Loose stones, farther up the improvised path, had given under the

SWIFTLY, The Shadow took the same route, keeping the flashlight in his cloak folds as he picked the path.

He was gaining as he made the climb, for he could afford to do so. The man ahead would assume that any

stones clattering down below were some that he himself had loosened. Hence The Shadow was shortening the

Near the brow of the ravine, the path veered toward the crag. Pausing, The Shadow noted an iron post set in

the ground and gripped it while he watched ahead. The post proved to be the end of a long, high picket fence

It was the new dividing line of the grounds around Stanbridge Manor. It happened that the old family

cemetery extended back toward the ravine, though there was a space between the graveyard and the brink.

Tree boughs formed a high network beyond the top of the ravine, but the mansion was not visible from the

What The Shadow did see was a figure pausing briefly against the gray, ghostly bulk of the crag. The man

was looking for a path away from the ravine and in his hand he was clutching a sizable satchel. He was a

muffled man, his hat drawn well down above his eyes; as The Shadow watched, the man straightened from a

It was undoubtedly Carl Dorthan. His manner, not his face, had given him away. In changing posture, he was

becoming himself again, after a trip during which he had done his utmost to conceal his real identity. Add to

A whispered laugh stirred the darkness. Its sibilance persisted as The Shadow, invisible in darkness, glided

forward to take up the last stage of the trail. He himself was like a ghost, this being called The Shadow.

Strange that The Shadow should be venturing toward a place where persons were already keyed for visitors

THREE huddled men were talking in undertones near the edge of the Stanbridge cemetery. They were

watching the windows of the mansion, where they could see figures moving against the flicker of the fire in

the great hall. Though human, those figures moved like ghosts, which worried two of the three watchers.

"Are you going to quit?" queried Zeph, in a low twang. "All right, it's up to the two of you, only Doc

Torrance won't like it when I tell him. He'll say he was mistook when he thought Herb Kiefer and Luke

There were mutters from Herb and Luke. One of the pair blinked a flashlight and Zeph made a grab at it.

"Douse that light!" snarled Zeph. "See what you've done? There's the old lady at the window, pointing right

Sight of Jennifer pointing from the window rather reassured Herb and Luke. Her action was one of human

curiosity, nothing more. Apparently it was Jennifer who thought she had seen a ghost, evidenced by the blink

Still watching the window, Zeph saw Roger gesture to Jennifer. Roger was holding a cigarette lighter that he

had just flicked. He was explaining to his sister that she had probably seen its flame reflected in the window.

At last Jennifer turned away as though satisfied. The watchers saw her draw the gray cape across her

"Afeared of ghosts, huh?" gibed Zeph. "That makes the two of you scared of yourselves. Why don't you run?"

Herb and Luke weren't running and declared so. Their morale fully restored, they were willing to go through

with the deal for which Dr. Torrance had paid them five dollars each. That job was to remain outside the

house and watch all that occurred outdoors while Torrance was visiting in the manor.

Hardheaded though he was, old Dr. Torrance had heard too many rumors of strange things happening

around Stanbridge Manor. Even before this visit when he had personally heard ghosts fling nails and smash

dishes, the physician had convinced himself that something more than ordinary was amiss. Roger's reports of

singular manifestations had corroborated certain statements by Wiggam. As for Jennifer, she'd talked about

ghosts for years, while Gustave's recent silence on the subject had impressed Torrance very forcibly.

So Torrance had sworn in three deputies to aid the ghost hunt, unbeknown to anyone at the manor. The local

boys were making good, now that they had found their nerve. Zeph wasn't hearing any further talk of flight,

not even when a distant door suddenly clattered open and a block of light revealed old Jennifer coming from

"The old lady is crazy," assured Zeph. "Doc says he's certain on it. Of course maybe they're all crazy, but that

There were whispered queries from Herb and Luke, asking for further statistics on the sanity of the

"They've got what doc calls a complex," explained Zeph. "None of 'em wants to be buried until they're sure

they're dead. That's why they stick 'em in that thing over in the middle of the graveyard."

Zeph gestured toward the mausoleum, then looked for Jennifer. It was Zeph's turn to clamber to his legs,

ready to run, for the lady in gray had disappeared a short way from the mansion. At that moment the others

saw her against the white side of the mausoleum, as she picked her way among the tombstones.

Old Jennifer was the perfect replica of a wandering ghost, but sight of her eased Zeph's qualms, since he had

already classed her as something human. Rather than have his companions turn the laugh on him, Zeph began

"She's hunting for Donald's grave," explained Zeph, keeping his undertone below the quaver point. "Doc

wants to know why. So sneak around, you fellows, and see where she goes and what she does."

By way of example, Zeph skirted toward the rear of the cemetery and then cut in toward Jennifer's path. Herb

took the more conservative course of moving in the direction of the house before venturing among the

tombstones. Not to be outdone, Luke decided to circuit the cemetery on the house side and come back from

THEY were like the points of an irregular triangle, these three, with Jennifer wandering somewhere in the

center. Of the three, Zeph was proving himself the boldest, considering that he had chosen the deep end of the

cemetery. The fact that he was cutting back among the graves made Zeph appear all the braver; actually it

Straining his eyes to find Jennifer, Zeph failed to see another figure that was creeping forward, its course

coming at an angle toward his own. Nor did the other man see Zeph; he was too busy looking for some

landmark as he worked his way among the silent tombstones, which were all large, but very much alike.

The stranger in the cemetery was Carl Dorthan, still some distance ahead of The Shadow. Dorthan was

having more trouble than Zeph, though both were on unfamiliar ground. Dorthan's difficulty was occasioned

Above, the grinding trees made ghoulish sounds and their branches were so thick they cut off most of the

moonlight that was struggling through a heavy cloud. This was certainly death's setting, these grounds that

Jennifer roamed each evening. Of all who stalked these forgotten preserves, the old lady was most oblivious

That fact was proven when Zeph Blaine stopped short and listened for a sound close by. It was the scrunch of

grass that formed a mound up to a broad pedestal supporting an ancient tombstone. Locating the sound, Zeph

It was Carl Dorthan resuming his earlier pose. He had heard the dry grass rattle as Zeph moved forward.

Dorthan made a shift for shelter and Zeph did the same. In that tense moment, both forgot all thoughts of

They were primitive creatures, each stalking the unknown, yet imbued with an urge for shelter. A fresh

trickle of moonlight added just enough visibility for each to make out the other's crouched form; then, as they

shifted, something solid intervened. It was Dorthan who first recognized the object as a tombstone.

Shoving himself forward, Dorthan reached the tombstone and deposited the bag beside it. Climbing the base,

he gripped the shaft with both hands and lifted his head and shoulders above it. At that moment, Zeph made

out the bulky object clearly, not as a gravestone, but as the head and shoulders of a man.

With a bellow, Zeph charged, thrusting his own hands for the man's neck. Half poised above the stone,

Dorthan hadn't time to drop away. He swung frantically to beat off Zeph's clutch and managed to drive down

the grabbing hands. Zeph's big fists clamped on what he thought were shoulders, but proved instead to be the

Zeph tilted backward, the tombstone coming with him. As Dorthan swung a hard fist, Zeph took a hard grip

on the wrist above it. Briefly, the strugglers were locked across the canted stone, Dorthan's lips voicing a

snarl as Zeph's delivered a triumphant shout. Then, as Zeph swung a big fist, Dorthan slugged with something

Figures reeled into a mutual disappearance. Next, one was looping madly from the tombstone, carrying

something that it snatched up from the ground. In itself, this human struggle was ghostly, but the weird laugh

It was the laugh of The Shadow, grim, sinister, a challenge to all fighters, a terror to men who tried to escape

its author's justice. Wildly, two shots stabbed from near the tombstone where Dorthan and Zeph had

struggled. Then, a human blackout trained in ways of vengeance, The Shadow was springing to find his

All that saved Dorthan was misguided intervention, supplied by Herb and Luke. Hearing Zeph's shout,

confident that he had encountered something substantial, the two were coming from different directions,

hoping to grab Zeph's foe. Only by luck did Dorthan dodge them; his method was a sprawl that he didn't

intend to take. Converging past the man they sought, Herb and Luke encountered The Shadow.

They found him tangible enough to be classed as a human fighter, but that impression existed only shortly. At

the sound of gunfire, The Shadow had whipped out an automatic, but he did not aim it at these bungling

foemen. Instead, he gave Luke the benefit of a weighted fist that met the fellow's jaw with a wide sweep,

knocking him some five feet out of combat. Herb, charging forward, found nothing where he thought a figure

Seemingly, The Shadow had dissolved ahead of his attacker's grasp. Actually, the cloaked fighter had

dropped into the thicktufted grass. Lunging beyond his vanished target, Herb received a lifted foot that

seemed to crop out of the ground. It met the fellow's chest and turned his drive into a bouncing somersault

BY this time, flashlights were sweeping from the mansion. Into their glows dashed Dr. Torrance, waving

back at Gustave and Roger, who were armed with a shotgun and revolver, respectively. Torrance was calling

"They're my men," shouted Torrance. "I told them to come here. If they're found a stranger, let them take care

Wiggam stopped Gustave from raising the shotgun. At that moment a window clapped open above the

kitchen, and Hector, the servant, thrust out a head that wore a nightcap. Torrance, dashing in search of

It was Dorthan. He knew he had been seen, for he made a quick dart around the corner of the structure,

carrying his precious satchel. What it was that Dorthan carried, Torrance could not tell, but the doctor knew

"There he goes!" howled Torrance. "He's taking something with him. Stop him, whoever he is!"

The doctor had reached the mausoleum, which was shining like alabaster in the full light of the freed moon.

There was no sign of Dorthan, but Torrance knew which corner he had gone around, and wanted to complete

What halted Torrance was a shape that arrived in truly ghostly fashion from the other corner of the

It wasn't The Shadow. This shape was gray. With a bony hand it caught Torrance's arm. He heard the shrill

Despite himself, Torrance turned and let his eyes follow Jennifer's point. He saw the thing she mentioned, a

ghostly creature all in white, peering through the open work of the tower that topped Stanbridge Manor. The

figure moved, as if to return the pointing gesture. Torrance saw a glint that he took for a ghostly eye. There

From deep in the cemetery came another gun stab, its jabbing tongue directed toward the high and distant

tower. Hard upon that shot followed a mocking peal of mirth, a challenge to all shrouded things that called

WHILE The Shadow's strange mirth was still reaching its weird crescendo, the thing in the tower vanished. It

wasn't that The Shadow's shot reached it; the range was too great, his gun stab far too hasty. Rather, The

Shadow's thrust simply dispelled the ghost or forced it to a disappearance of its own.

Again, the moonlight was playing tricks. It had shown itself through the fleece of a patchwork cloud, only to

dwindle immediately after The Shadow's gunshot. Now the glow was reappearing and from the ground near

the mansion, Roger Stanbridge fired two shots at the tower to which his sister Jennifer had pointed.

Flooded with light, the tower left no doubt as to its present status. It was all openwork, like a bell tower,

through which the eye could see from every side. Though it connected with the house, the door was known to

be permanently shut. Unless the ghost were an optical illusion, stimulated by Jennifer's fancy, the whole thing

Naturally the effect was most marked upon the persons from the mansion, because they had only recently

witnessed manifestations as unexplainable as the tower ghost itself. So they stood staring up into the

Whatever the thing that he had so briefly glimpsed in the tower, it couldn't possibly be Dorthan. Not for a

moment had The Shadow forgotten the embezzler, even though he had taken time out to fire at the tower.

Indeed, The Shadow wasn't sure that the phantasm had been real. To him, its glint indicated a gun, pointing at

Torrance, rather than an eye as the doctor had thought. On the chance that the "ghost" might be a mortal,

watching in Dorthan's behalf, The Shadow had fired the shot that made it disappear, solely to protect

Dorthan was gone, totally forgotten by Torrance, even though The Shadow remembered the fugitive who had

Working forward, The Shadow neared the door of the mausoleum intending to have a look inside the

barewalled structure. He believed that everyone except Dorthan was too busy watching the tower to notice

him and The Shadow was quite willing to meet the embezzler, should he bob into sight again.

They were on their feet again, those two, and they knew nothing of happenings inside the house. They hadn't

even seen the phantasm in the tower, so briefly had it stayed. To these rustic fighters, there was only one

ghost in the Stanbridge cemetery worthy of consideration and they considered it human enough to be

Under the full glare of the moon, the pair saw the blackness that glided toward the mausoleum. With one

accord they surged and flung themselves upon The Shadow. Their shouts brought others full about to witness

THE SHADOW had swung in time to meet his attackers. He was carrying them into a running fray that was

impossible to follow. The Shadow deserved to be termed a phantasm, for his appearance was just such. He

was blackness that thinned, faded, dwindled from the hands that tried to clutch him.

This was one issue that The Shadow did not care to cloud. Whatever the issue at Stanbridge Manor, whether

Dorthan had arrived there by chance or design, The Shadow wanted the case to be studied on its own merits,

There had been other shots from the dark before The Shadow's. Though his weird laugh had dispelled the

ghost, it would be considered as part of the white figure's appearance in the supposedly empty tower. All

provided that The Shadow could personally depart as mysteriously as he had arrived.

Such was The Shadow's present objective. To attain it, he took to what seemed flight as he zigzagged to the

space beyond the graveyard and took an elusive course toward the crag above the Glen. Yet Herb and Luke

persisted in keeping after him, though to them The Shadow had become no more than a streak of fleeting

Roger and the others had arrived beside the mausoleum. Staring through the clouding moonlight, they

couldn't trace the living patch of blackness that still attracted the two yokels. Torrance was explaining who

Herb and Luke were, at the same time attributing their mad dash to fright. Suddenly remembering that there

"There was another man over there." With a long finger, Jennifer pointed off among the tombstones, marking

the exact spot of Zeph's encounter with Dorthan. "But he was not the one who came here."

By "here" Jennifer meant the mausoleum, which she indicated with a back sweep of her hand. Roger turned

"Take a look in the crypt, doc," said Roger. "Borrow Gustave's shotgun before he gets excited and lets it pop.

"But what about the others," queried Torrance. "If we don't stop them, they'll go off the edge of Lookout

"They'll stop soon enough," assured Roger. "They're just trying to get clear of ghosts."

Roger had it the wrong way about. The ghost that Herb and Luke were after was The Shadow and at that

The Shadow had reached the crag termed Lookout Rock. There he was turning, intending to speed back

toward the mansion and lose himself in the darkness of the graveyard while Herb and Luke would wonder

Like something disgorged by the darkness of the trees, The Shadow formed a swirling patch upon the rock's

gray surface. He seemed no more than the black streaks cast by highweaving tree boughs as he poised to

pick an opening between the blundering pursuers whom he had purposely led to this dead end.

With a sudden gush, the moon poured its full glow through the space between the trees. The cloud had passed

and the mighty orb was spotted straight on Lookout Rock. Where two men should have seen nothing, they

spied a form as real as it was grotesque, the shape of The Shadow, as amazing as if it had sprung from the

Savagely, Zeph's pals hurled themselves upon their fantastic prey. Rather than let their unwise fury carry

them across the brink, The Shadow wheeled to meet them. They locked in a sudden grapple from which The

Shadow writhed; then, with the moonlight still persisting, the cloaked grappler performed a singular ruse.

Dropping from the combined clutch of Herb and Luke, The Shadow twisted in the other direction. Like

something dislodged from the crag, he slid over its knobby edge, bound on a trip into the outer space where

THE SHADOW was sliding feet foremost. Face toward the rock, he dug his fingers hard as he went beyond

its bulging surface. Legs and body dangling clear, he gave himself a pendulum swing back under the brow.

Had his grip been firm, he would have pitched himself into the convenient space below the crag, but his

The Shadow's inward heave landed him just on the brink of the first sheer cliff. Down he went, unable to do

more than slow his drop. He jolted as he struck the next stretch of the stone cascade and slid beyond,

Viewed from the Glen, The Shadow's spilling figure was a pygmy thing, descending the palisade in short,

delayed drops, much like a beetle failing in its grip. He was still slipping when the trees of the gorge engulfed

him, but as he left the moonlight, his forceful struggles were as evident as before.

Herb and Luke didn't view The Shadow's descent from that angle. In fact, they didn't see his drop at all. They

were struggling on the top of Lookout Rock, each in the other's clutch. Simultaneously, they realized that the

First they gazed at the rock itself; next they looked across the glade; finally, they craned from the brink and

The rock couldn't have swallowed The Shadow. There was no sign of him in midair. Nor was there any patch

of blackness on the rocks below the great stepped cliff. The two men finally decided that a thing that had

It didn't occur to that pair that The Shadow's lingering fall had kept him so close to the bottom of the lowest

step that he was short of the angle at which they gazed. To these observers, the cliff looked sheer. They

BACK at the mausoleum, Dr. Torrance was standing with the leveled shotgun while Gustave turned a

flashlight within the whitewalled building. The glare showed vacancy; nothing more. The inner walls were

the same stone as the outer. The floor consisted of solid granite, two feet thick.

Stamping about the place, Torrance was soon convinced that the foundations were permanent. Even the

mortar between the granite blocks was as solid as the stonework. Suspiciously, Torrance looked upward,

telling Gustave to raise the flashlight. The flat ceiling of the mausoleum was quite as convincing as the floor

A light was bobbing toward the mausoleum. Turning, Torrance lowered the shotgun as he saw Wiggam

"Over there, doctor!" panted Wiggam, gesturing, across his shoulder. "That man of yours Zeph Blaine

"The ghost in the tower!" she reminded. "When it appears, it means death. Never has the omen failed!"

Giving Wiggam the shotgun, Torrance told him to guard the mausoleum. Beckoned by Roger's flashlight, the

doctor reached the spot where Zeph had struggled with Dorthan. Roger focused the light on a sight that

Prone on the ground, Zeph was partly obscured by an overturned tombstone. Toppled from its base, the bulky

block had landed on the man's head and shoulders, crushing his skull. Poked from beneath the stone was

Zeph's hand, loosely clutching a revolver. Picking up the gun, Torrance cracked it open; found that two shots

"So the shots were Zeph's," mused Torrance. "He must have seen something or imagined it."

Roger pointed to Zeph's left hand which was tightly clutched upon the side of the fallen tombstone.

"He must have grabbed the stone," observed Roger. "A bad thing to do when off balance. Most of these

He turned the light on another and Torrance thrust his hand against the upright specimen to find that the

tombstone did tilt under pressure. Pocketing Zeph's revolver, Torrance told Roger to accompany him into the

house. When they arrived there, the doctor went up to the second floor, where they found Hector at his

From the window, they could see the top of the mausoleum. No one was lying upon it, hence Torrance

decided that no ghost could have disappeared in that vicinity. So Torrance decided to have a look at the

The door was not only nailed shut; it had a padlock so rusty that it couldn't have been unlocked in years.

Smashing the lock with the butt of Zeph's gun, Torrance pulled the door wide and threw a flashlight up the

The upper door wasn't nailed. because it opened inward. Breaking the lock, Torrance pushed the barrier open,

to disclose a small landing only a few feet square. The only thing ghostly was the grating of the door hinges,

which ended suddenly as the door jammed to a halt against the warped floor, a few inches short of the side

The floor of the tower formed a fivefoot square above the landing. Access could be gained there by a ladder

up the far wall of the landing. Gun in hand, Torrance boldly climbed the ladder, gave a quick thrust to the

hinged boards of the tower floor and turned his head and arms about as he pressed through the opened space.

Roger and Hector were watching tensely, until they saw Torrance reach down and beckon.

They joined the doctor in the tower. There, all three stared about the open space, their eyes wandering,

puzzled, to the gable roof that had no rafters, but which was amply supplied with cracks and holes from years

Again the question of a phantasm remained unsolved. Whatever the thing that had been seen in the tower,

ghost or human, it had disappeared as completely as the cloaked creature that had vanished from the brink of

Weird were the visitants seen at Stanbridge Manor and The Shadow held no monopoly to that claim!

As county coroner, Torrance was forced to deliver a verdict in the death of Zeph Blaine. After all the

evidence was weighed and considered, Torrance pronounced it death through misadventure.

In itself, there wasn't much mysterious about a man clutching a tombstone in the dark and having it topple on

him. Even the fact that the victim mistook the falling stone for something else and fired a few frantic shots,

was understandable, considering Zeph's limited mental caliber and the fears that the cemetery had stimulated

What rendered it all so weird were further factors as witnessed by other persons. A stickler for detail, Dr.

Torrance had included every ounce of data in his report and the whole summed to one simple answer:

Reliable witnesses could testify regarding the manifestations in the strange old mansion. Things that had

bothered the Stanbridge family for quite some time, had been repeated in the presence of other persons.

First: such things as footsteps and ghostly whispers heard from quarters where no person could possibly have

been. Second: the crash of dishes in the empty kitchen. Like the Stanbridge brothers, Dr. Torrance and

Wiggam were ready to swear that the phenomena had occurred under impossible conditions.

As a visible manifestation, the ghost in the watchtower rated tops. Torrance was willing to take oath that he

had seen something up there after Jennifer pointed, though it was too vague to be defined. The term "a figure

in white" about described it. Roger had caught a fleeting glimpse of the thing, as had Wiggam, though

Indeed, a controversy was on between two members of the Stanbridge family: Gustave and Jennifer. As

owner of the manor, Gustave was ready to deny that it ever had been haunted, though he did admit to certain

happenings that he couldn't personally explain. Jennifer contrarily claimed that ghosts had always been

around and always would be. She included her planchette writing as evidence in favor of the spirits.

As a comparative newcomer, Roger was quite at sea. The same applied to Wiggam, who seldom visited the

manor at night, living as he did in the old gatekeeper's cottage. Neutral in the controversy was Hector, the

house servant. Being hard of hearing, short of sight, he wasn't the sort to be annoyed by wandering ghosts.

As for happenings outdoors, those were charged largely to local imagination, as with Zeph's death. For years

the villagers of Coledale had shunned the Stanbridge burying ground on the score that it was bewitched, if not

actually haunted. Torrance conceded that he had made a bad mistake in sending three ghostfearing natives

The lights seen around the cemetery were probably those of the three men. The figure that Torrance saw

when it ducked around the corner of the mausoleum, could have been either Herb or Luke, since it happened

after Zeph's fatal accident with the tombstone. Supporting such an opinion was the fact that Herb and Luke

had both gone chasing after an imaginary wanderer, only to find themselves locked in each other's grip on

At risk of his neck, The Shadow had won his point. He'd gone completely out of the picture, so completely

that he wasn't supposed to have been around at all, which was exactly the impression that he wanted to

But along with the elimination of The Shadow as a factor, human or ghostly, another person had totally

slipped the scene. There wasn't the slightest hint that Carl Dorthan, embezzler wanted by the law, had come

to Stanbridge Manor, there to join in the ghostly gambols and vanish with the stolen funds he brought.

THE newspapers went to town with the Stanbridge Manor story. Ghost stuff was always good "copy" and

this exceeded all expectations. Famed cases of the past dwindled into oblivion, compared to this instance

where an avenging ghost had lived up to its reputation of manifesting itself at a time of sudden death.

Lamont Cranston found the newspapers very interesting reading, as he sat in the library of New York's

exclusive Cobalt Club, with one leg propped on another chair beside which leaned a cane. Cranston had

wrenched his knee in a fall from a polo pony, which was one of his favorite habits.

That pony business often came in handy. It frequently happened after The Shadow had fared severely during

one of his daring exploits. For the quiet, calmmannered club man who called himself Lamont Cranston was

actually The Shadow. His wrenched knee represented a cascading fall of a hundred feet and more, down the

And now, in armchair style, the taciturn Mr. Cranston was learning a lot of facts that he hadn't gathered

There was a legend, of course, to account for the Stanbridge ghost. The house itself dated back before the

Revolution and had figured in feuds of that day. The Coledale area had then been disputed territory, claimed

When the colonies became states, the situation had not changed. There had been pitched battles, even

massacres, on the part of the warring factions. The original Stanbridge had played a large share in such strife,

Several times, the Stanbridge ancestor had been trapped in the manor, only to escape and return with

members of his own faction, thus turning the tables on the invaders. He had personally slain a few of his

archenemies when they entered the manor and there was a rumor that the ghosts might be theirs.

Another school of thought made the original Stanbridge the haunter of his own premises, there being good

reason to consider him the one and only ghost. First, the watchtower had been his favorite spot when he was

on the alert for enemies; again, he had often sworn that he would protect all Stanbridges to come. Thus he

The original Stanbridge might even be expiating some of his own dark deeds, of which there had been many!

Still, no one knew exactly when the ghost had first appeared. A later legend involved another Stanbridge,

grandson of the first, who had participated in the famous "underground railway" that aided escaping slaves.

This later Stanbridge had used the old watchtower, along with Lookout Rock, and had shown himself

amazingly skillful at smuggling fugitives in and out of his premises, without a single capture. He was a more

benign character than his grandfather; therefore better suited to rate as a ghostly protector of his clan, ready to

The Stanbridges had a habit of dying suddenly, which was why they dreaded death. Generally heart failure

was the cause, though some had recuperated from strokes that left them seemingly dead. There was a trace of

insanity in the family; how serious, no one knew, for details had always been avoided, even by the Wiggams.

Always, there had been a Wiggam attached to the Stanbridge family and each current Wiggam was invariably

loyal to the head of Stanbridge Manor. The present Wiggam was no exception; his purchase of his own

cottage had been purely to aid the failing Stanbridge fortune and preserve some of the property.

HAVING brought the Stanbridge history up to date, Cranston began to study the status of the present

dwellers in the manor. Gustave had inherited the hollow fortune after the death of his elder brother Donald,

several years ago. Longailing, weakened in mind and memory, Donald had gone out in typical Stanbridge

Even since, Donald's sister Jennifer had been communicating with his spirit by means of the planchette.

Always she hinted that Gustave was responsible for Donald's death, but there wasn't a shred of evidence to

prove the claim. Indeed, Gustave had called in some very fine physicians to study Donald's case.

The real reason for Jennifer's antagonism to Gustave could lie in the fact that the present owner of Stanbridge

Manor was selling the premises piecemeal, something that no previous Stanbridge had done in half a dozen

generations. Perhaps Gustave needed money, but that didn't square it with Jennifer.

However, all that was over. Roger, the youngest brother, had returned after striking it rich in a Mexican mine.

Having cash to spare, he was spending it to preserve the homestead that would some day be his. But much

though he honored the family tradition, Roger was having a hard time with the ghosts.

Reporters cagily intimated that Gustave secretly believed in the ghosts and dreaded them, his argument to the

contrary being to offset Jennifer's exaggerated faith in the family specters. As for Roger, he was admittedly

Reading that fact, Cranston laid the newspaper aside, picked up his cane and limped from the club to a

waiting limousine. Riding to an apartment house, Cranston turned on the radio while the chauffeur was

Soon a girl arrived. She was an attractive brunette, keen of eye and manner. Her name was Margo Lane and

she had known Lamont Cranston long enough to understand his moods. Seeing him concerned with the radio

news, Margo simply entered the car and listened as the chauffeur started to some destination.

Gustave Stanbridge had yielded to the combined persuasion of his brother Roger and Dr. Torrance.

Stanbridge Manor was to become the ground for a ghost hunt, with reporters present during the weird quest.

The hunt was to be handled by a psychic investigator named Dunninger, long famous as a ghost breaker.

"I've heard of Dunninger!" expressed Margo. "Why, he's the man who has offered a huge award for any spirit

phenomena that he cannot explain or duplicate!" (ED. NOTE: This offer of Joe Dunninger's still stands. No

"An award that no one has ever collected," added Cranston with a calm smile, "and probably never will."

"They could hardly be, Margo" Cranston's smile had become cryptic "because if they were, I would

Margo's query was split by a gasp that combined amazement with horror. In reply, Cranston nodded.

"Clyde Burke is covering for the Classic," he explained. "They're letting him include a secretary's services on

The car was stopping in front of the Classic building. Looking up at the offices of New York's most

sensational newspaper, Margo repressed a brief attack of jitters. Since Clyde was going to Stanbridge Manor,

Margo couldn't very well refuse. Both Clyde and Margo happened to be agents of The Shadow; what went

Lips tightened, Margo stepped from the limousine. As the door swung shut, she turned and let her face relax

From the moving car came a strange, suppressed tone, the echo of a weird, sinister laugh that didn't seem to

issue from Cranston's immobile lips, though it could have come from nowhere else. The limousine had turned

the corner before Margo Lane realized the full significance of that sibilant token.

It meant that if Stanbridge Manor proved lacking in family ghosts, it would none the less receive a spectral

BY daylight, Stanbridge Manor looked decrepit rather than fearsome, yet Margo Lane disliked the place the

moment she saw it. The house was ugly, its sprawly wings out of proportion to its low two stories. Rather

than improving the architecture, the watchtower made it look worse, for the tower itself appeared to be

Even when Clyde Burke drove his car under the portecochere, Margo felt no sensation of dread. She

thought she would experience it when they went into the house, but the interior proved to be quite pleasant. In

the afternoon, the great hall caught the full sunlight and looked very cheery, while the burning logs in the

Clyde was affably received by some fellow reporters, who promptly introduced him to Dr. Torrance. Next

came the members of the Stanbridge family and to Margo they were somewhat disappointing. Gustave

looked like a man who was only slightly worried; Jennifer seemed a kindly old lady; while Roger was quite

as affable as the reporters. Certainly there was nothing sinister about any of the three, at this first meeting.

As for Wiggam, the former caretaker showed every mark of integrity, while Hector, attired in a fresh white

coat, was all that a family servant should be. Margo was beginning to take the ghost hunt very lightly, when

There was something about Dunninger that promised results. He was a tall man, with dark eyes that fixed

steadily on everyone he met. He seemed to be weighing this house in terms of people, as a preliminary to his

search for ghosts. When he spoke, his tone was firm, direct. He was asking questions concerning the house,

its history, and the reported manifestations, as though such queries were vital to the coming probe.

Finished with questions, Dunninger opened his investigator's kit and everyone crowded up to view its

contents. Dunninger explained the purpose of various items as he placed them on a table.

FIRST there was a steel measuring tape, for checking the exact dimensions of rooms and passages, the initial

step for uncovering secret hiding places in old houses. Along with the tape went balls of string and sticks of

varicolored chalk, to aid the same general purpose, since measurements could be made with string,

particularly around corners, and chalk marks used to identify the points of measurement.

There were some heavy fish weights, by which the string could be transformed into a plumb line, for vertical

measurements. Another very useful item was a carpenter's level, Dunninger explaining that in certain houses,

a slight tilt of a floor could account for a considerable space at the other side of the house.

To illustrate this, Dunninger used a pencil and a sketch pad, also part of his equipment, to make a long V

lying on its side, one arm of the V representing a downslanting ceiling, the other an uptilted floor above it.

He had run across just such an arrangement in another old house that he had investigated.

Next, Dunninger produced a flask of mercury and poured the silvery liquid into a small bowl. Apparently the

mercury was to serve as another agent for determining levels, but Dunninger explained that it had an added

purpose. Placed anywhere in the house, the mercury could be watched for tremors. Should it show any, it

would indicate that someone was moving along the floor in that vicinity, thus making the mercury vibrate.

It was evident from Dunninger's accent on the word "someone" that he was thinking in terms of something

more substantial than a ghost. This was proven when Dunninger brought out three pairs of huge felt slippers,

large enough to slide over a person's shoes. He stated that should occasion demand, he would let some of the

Travel in such slippers being absolutely noiseless, this would be a perfect way to trap a "ghost" that happened

There were many other things in Dunninger's kit: brush and graphite for developing fingerprints; movie

cameras geared for remote control; other cameras for still pictures, fitted with odd gadgets; all the materials,

even to black curtains, needed for darkroom development; also packages containing films of special type.

If any ghost, living or dead, hoped to slip past Dunninger, it would be living up to its spooky reputation and

About ready to set up his equipment, Dunninger took time out to draw a rough floor plan of Stanbridge

Manor. Having already gone over the premises with Dr. Torrance, he was able to make a very satisfactory

On the ground floor, the great hall was the central apartment, serving as a living room. Entering from the

front, there was a stairway directly to the right, going up to the second floor. In the deep left corner of the

living hall was the doorway leading into the dining room. Around through the dining room was a door

leading into the kitchen, which was directly behind the hall, but not connected with it. From a corner of the

So much for the left wing of the house. To the right of the hall, a passage went under the stairs and ran

directly into a much longer passage, set at right angles to the first. This long passage ran the full length of the

house, from front to back. Starting from the front, there was a door on the right, leading into an overstuffed

Near the rear of the passage, on the left, was a door into a storeroom, which had once connected with the

kitchen, but which had been partitioned off, with a very solid and permanent wall. Farther back was a

Both parlor and music room had been living quarters when the Stanbridge family was larger.

At the very end of the passage was another doorway on the left. This led outside and it was the back door that

Now the important feature of all this was that no one entering the back door could possibly reach the second

floor except by coming through the great hall, either to reach the front stairway or take the long trip around

through the kitchen to gain the back stairs. In brief, the entire wing on the right was isolated from the rest of

ON the second floor, the stairs coming up struck right into a passage, except for a little hallway just to the left

of the stairs, where there was a small writing table and a cloak rack. This passage ran above the rear of the

There were two doorways on the left, opening into bedrooms above the great hall. There were two on the

right, one into a bedroom over the storeroom, another into a bedroom over the kitchen. At the end was a door

into a small bedroom above the front half of the dining room. The passage took a turn and led to an isolated

bedroom, reached through a door on the left, at the very end of the passage. This was Hector's room, over the

A few other features were important. First, the back stairs came up between the two bedrooms over the

kitchen and storeroom respectively. Above the passage of the groundfloor right wing was the stairway

leading up to the tower. Also, there was a room above the groundfloor parlor, covering the front half of the

There was no rear room upstairs, where the right wing was concerned. Instead, there was a secondfloor

veranda, reached from the rear windows of the front room. Only it was impossible to reach the veranda by

that route, because all of the windows were barred, as with the rest of the house.

This was called the Green Room and it was a guest room, as was the Blue Room at the other end of the

passage. The two front rooms belonged to Gustave and Roger respectively. The room above the kitchen was

Jennifer's. The room just over the storeroom was a show place. It was called the Colonial Room because it

had belonged to the original Stanbridge and was still furnished in its original style.

HAVING pointed out every feature of the floor plans, Dunninger stated that he would next check the

dimensions, with the reporters aiding him. He first inquired if any of the residents knew of any secret places

The only Stanbridge who looked doubtful was Roger. He remarked that he had left the manor at the tender

age of twelve, when sent to boarding school, and had not returned until recently. But Roger had always

believed that the old mansion must have possessed its quota of secret rooms or passages. Unconvinced to the

contrary, Roger stared hard at his brother and sister as he commented that he believed there were such hiding

"An old wives tale," snapped Gustave, testily. "As the owner of Stanbridge Manor, I should know!"

"Say rather an old nurse's tale," inserted Jennifer. "I remember your old nurse, Roger. She feared the ghosts

of this manor and tried to convince herself that they did not exist. So she blamed it on the house, making the

Roger looked at old Hector, who shook his head as if he believed neither in ghosts nor passages. That left

"I really don't know, sir," replied the old caretaker. "Whatever we Wiggams know or believe, always comes

"And I happen to be the head of the family," stormed Gustave. "Did I ever mention ghosts or passages to you,

Gustave looked around the group triumphantly. Turning on his heel, Roger went through the arch under the

front stairs to reach the passage leading to the storeroom. When he returned, the reporters had finished

Roger was carrying a hammer and chisel, while lesser tools were poking from his pockets. Giving Gustave a

"If you find any suspicious spot," declared Roger, "you are welcome to tear it open, in wall, floor or ceiling. I

have already spent money in repairing the mansion and I am willing to stand any further expense."

Handing the tools to Wiggam, Roger suggested that the reporters continue with their measurements, to which

Dunninger agreed. He was busy at present marking chalk lines along the fireplace, so Roger turned around

Margo went with them to write down the measurement. They started with the passage, where Roger asked

Clyde for a piece of chalk, to mark the floor at each length of the tape. The chalk proved unnecessary,

because the tape stretched the entire way, registering the length of the passage as forty feet, six inches.

Returning the chalk to Clyde, Roger took the tape into the parlor and placed the tape end against the front

wall. Clyde drew the tape box to the rear of the room and checked the distance at exactly twenty feet. Eagerly

They tallied exactly. The music room was just twenty feet from front to back. The extra six inches of the

"Nothing wrong there," decided Clyde, while Margo was writing down the data. "What comes next, the

Nodding, Roger stepped into the storeroom, only to turn back and plant the coiled tape in Clyde's hand.

"You measure the storeroom, Burke," suggested Roger, "while I go around to the kitchen and tap the wall.

The two rooms used to connect, years ago. Gustave said they were walled up so the house could be heated

Clyde had just finished measuring the storeroom when Roger began to thump the kitchen wall, which

sounded solid enough. The next step was to measure the kitchen and check the combined length by the

breadth of the great hall. Seeing the tool box in the storeroom, Clyde looked for another tape, but there wasn't

It was a slow process, but Dunninger didn't seem to mind. He was busy, not only with chalk and tape, but

with other items that he intended to place about the house. As they went through the mansion, making careful

measurements, they kept crossing Dunninger's path, and Margo gained the idea that the psychic investigator

preferred to keep the others occupied while he was preparing special arrangements of his own.

Something special would certainly be needed. Storeroom and kitchen had checked properly with the great

hall, less another six inches for an intervening wall. Upstairs, the measurements were clicking in the same

exact style. Dusk was approaching and so far there wasn't a thing wrong with Stanbridge Manor.

It seemed that Dunninger, the ghost hunter, would have to wait until the spooks appeared, before he could

begin to track them. Ghosts weren't apt to arrive until after dark, a thought that gave Margo a trifling shudder.

What repressed the shudder was Margo's recollection that The Shadow, too, would visit Stanbridge Manor

THE conductor of the evening train stared at the ticket which bore the name "Willow Glen." Next, he took a

close look at the man who had given him the ticket. The man was calmfaced, distinguished in appearance,

The conductor decided that this passenger must have come from New York and changed to his present attire

in a drawing room on board the limited before he transferred to the branch train at the junction. This

supposition was justified by the fact that the passenger carried a sizable suitcase with him.

Noting the conductor's stare, the passenger lifted his eyebrows in slightly questioning fashion.

"Excuse me, mister," said the conductor. "I was just wondering if you'd picked the right station. Willow Glen

is a picnic grounds. People don't go there in evening clothes, even in the picnic season."

"Had one the other night," admitted the conductor. "Only he was an old fellow with shaggy hair. Looked like

he was going over the hill to the poorhouse. That's where the road from Willow Glen does lead, come to think

It didn't sound logical to the conductor, considering that Cranston represented wealth, both in manner and

The conductor gave a better description than he realized. Not for a moment did he suspect that the old man of

the other night could have been Carl Dorthan, whose picture had appeared in many newspapers.

Like most everyone else, the conductor believed that Dorthan was dead, so cleverly had the embezzler

covered up his tracks, leaving a scapegoat named Goodwin to take the blame for his crimes. Yet the

conductor, despite himself, was describing Dorthan, at least to Cranston's satisfaction.

Shaggy hair stood for a wig, in The Shadow's language. A muffler would suffice to cover Dorthan's rather

conspicuous chin. The crouch was just another symbol of faked age on Dorthan's part. Most important,

however, was the conductor's statement that the "poor old fellow" kept gripping his satchel like everything he

That stood for the hundred thousand dollars that Dorthan had carried with him to his rendezvous at

Stanbridge Manor, the place where The Shadow hoped to also uncover a couple of other swindlers named

"I'm glad to hear about the old man," declared Cranston, with a solemn nod. "He happens to be my uncle."

"That's right," assured Cranston. "An independent old chap. Doesn't like it because I've been supporting him.

So every few months he packs up and scuds for a poorhouse. Clever, the way he chooses them, but I always

"My office keeps contact with all the poorhouses in the country. We notify them whenever my uncle

disappears. When we locate him, I have to call personally to collect him. He won't go home with anyone but

The locomotive was whistling for Willow Glen. The conductor shook his head as he pulled the bell cord for

the stop. Picking up his suitcase, Cranston clapped a hand on the conductor's shoulder.

"Next time you see my uncle," suggested Cranston, "just say to him: 'Ebenezer Throckmorton, your nephew,

Clarence, won't like it when he learns you've run away. Go right home or I'll have to tell him where you are.'

The conductor was still nodding, when the train stopped. He saw Cranston alight, look about, then lay his

suitcase aside to light a cigarette as though expecting a car to come for him from the poorhouse.

As soon as the train pulled out, Cranston opened his suitcase and disappeared into the cloaked personality of

The Shadow. A low laugh stirred the darkness, as The Shadow put the suitcase under the station platform.

Then, with only a slight swish to mark his departure, The Shadow started along the path that led to Willow

MEANWHILE, Dunninger had completed his preparations at the mansion. The last place examined was the

watchtower, where the alleged ghost had appeared. But there wasn't anything wrong about the tower. The

landing at the head of the stairs was solid under foot and the tower itself was innocent. After drawing the

landing door shut, Dunninger examined it and agreed that it had probably been properly barred.

The same applied to the door at the bottom of the stairs. After closing it and sealing it with special tape that

formed part of his equipment kit, Dunninger stepped into the old Colonial Room, to examine the antique

Wondering what the furniture had to do with ghosts, Margo soon learned that the answer was nothing. It

merely happened that Dunninger was interested in antiques and was taking a short recess from his

ghosthunting activities. Having mentioned the fact, Dunninger looked about the room itself.

The room had a closet in the rear corner, directly under the stairs leading up to the tower. The top of the

closet was flat to start, but it sloped down frontward, to match the angle of the stairs. Clyde and another

reporter had measured the closet and found its proportions quite large. Checking the figures, Dunninger found

Downstairs they found Gustave chatting with Roger, both politely avoiding any controversy regarding the

mansion or its ghosts. Dr. Torrance was talking to Wiggam, while Hector, wearing his customary white coat,

was bringing a cup of tea to Jennifer. Seeing Margo, the old lady invited the girl to have a cup of tea; seating

herself at the table near the fire, Margo saw something that roused her curiosity.

"You saw a ouija board, my dear," inserted Jennifer. "This is a planchette. With it, the spirits write messages.

Come Miss Lane, let us place our hands upon the planchette and learn if Mr. Dunninger can explain whatever

As she spoke, Jennifer threw a challenging side glance at Dunninger, who spoke in reply.

"I can explain what happens beforehand," declared Dunninger. "Whatever the planchette writes will be the

expression of your subconscious thought. Without realizing it, you will let your hand guide the wheeled

"Nonsense," retorted Jennifer. "I shall be very careful to press my fingers lightly, while Miss Lane does the

same. We shall ask the spirits to tell us what causes strange things to happen in Stanbridge Manor."

"There is no need to ask the spirits," said Dunninger. "All we need to do is examine all possible causes one

Abruptly, Dunninger paused. He was looking straight at Margo, who was gazing back to prove that she, at

least, would not cheat with the planchette. At that moment, the heartshaped board began to move, and

Jennifer raised one hand from it to wag her finger at Dunninger, while she queried:

The planchette stopped. For the first time, Margo looked at the paper beneath it expecting to see nothing but a

Angrily, Jennifer seized the planchette and the loose papers and stormed upstairs. She must have left the

items on the table in the little hall, for she came downstairs immediately, though she ignored the group by the

fireplace. Dunninger had turned away and Margo was speaking in an amazed undertone to Clyde.

"I must have written it," confessed Margo. "When Dunninger started to say what could cause noises in old

houses, I thought of rats. I must have guided the planchette without knowing that I did it."

"Which is exactly what Dunninger said," reminded Clyde. "Old Jennifer has been cheating herself for years,

If anything, the planchette incident was helpful. At first it didn't seem so, because Jennifer suddenly

announced that she would have nothing more to do with persons that doubted the existence of the spirits. She

Promptly, Dunninger turned Jennifer's decision to advantage. He said that every person present was free to do

exactly as desired; that the more normally the household conducted itself, the more likely the manifestations

This proved helpful to old Hector. The servant quavered that he was very tired, because of serving supper to

so many guests. So Dunninger agreed that Hector could retire when it so pleased him.

As for the rest, Dunninger suggested that a few should get some early sleep in order to relieve others later.

His plan was to have a committee on hand during the entire night, with headquarters in the great hall.

Though he had been given the Blue Room at the left of the second floor, Dunninger intended to stay up all

night. That didn't apply to Margo, who was to sleep in the Green Room above the old parlor where the

reporters had taken over. So Margo decided to turn in early, on the theory that things probably wouldn't

GOING up to the Green Room, Margo gained a real surprise. She expected the room to be spooky, but it

wasn't. For one thing, it had electric lights, which didn't apply to the dining room or kitchen, though there

were a few in the great hall. So Margo decided to go to bed and gain a proper sleep before her turn came to

After all, the room was very homey, with the drawn shades hiding the barred windows. While she undressed,

Margo kept pretending that she was somewhere other than Stanbridge Manor, the reputed haunt of ghosts.

About to get into bed, she placed her slippers and dressing gown on a handy chair; then, extinguishing the

The bars weren't visible outside the window, because the cloudy night was almost pitchblack. That situation

changed when two lights suddenly flashed long beams from the outer corners of the house. At first the effect

was frightening; then Margo realized that the beams were from flashlights, carried by men who had gone

What Margo really didn't like was the prolonged wail that followed the appearance of the flashlights, a whine

that was definitely spooky. It took the girl a full minute to realize that the sound wasn't the anguished cry of a

protesting ghost. It was merely the night wind, swooping about the old mansion and whistling through the

That question settled, Margo managed to scoff at other sounds. She heard a muffled thump that she decided

could be nothing more than a banging shutter. Creeps that seemed to vaguely approach and dwindle, were

evidence of creaky beams throughout the old house, since Margo was unable to locate the sounds exactly.

Watching the flashlights, Margo saw them focus at a spot away from the house. Apparently the two men had

spotted something, for they kept the lights fixed. Gazing from her high vantage point, Margo was sure she

It was the hour of ghosts, the exact time at which manifestations had formerly occurred in Stanbridge Manor.

Yet Margo Lane was smiling to herself as she blithely left the window and slid into the comfortable

Margo was sure that the wandering figure of the darkness was The Shadow, the living antidote for ghosts as

IT was fortunate for The Shadow's plans that only Margo was looking from the level of the second floor. The

sudden blaze of the flashlights, sweeping away from the house, caught him as he was making a circuit

through the cemetery, and only the handy shelter of a tombstone saved him from being observed.

As he swung behind the stone, The Shadow grabbed its sides. The lights were wavering uncertainly as though

their owners mistook the tall grass for a moving figure, so The Shadow decided to maintain his present

There was only one flaw, which The Shadow should have remembered. The tombstone tilted when he

The difference was that this tombstone didn't topple. It went back less than a foot, then stopped as though a

brake had been applied to it. Not that The Shadow had removed his weight; there wasn't time for him to do

Flashlights found the tombstone. Even at that distance, the men could see that the monument was canted. But

they didn't move away from the house; instead, they let the flashlights spread, then come slowly together,

again, so there wouldn't be a possible chance for anyone to sidle away from the tilted stone.

The Shadow foresaw exactly what they were about. The moment that the lights spread, he left his perch and

moved straight back through the darkness. So swiftly did he go that when the lights converged again, he was

Keeping the lights on the tombstone, the two men approached it. By then, The Shadow was far enough away

to circle around them. He was right behind them when they reached the tilted stone; though their voices were

"Odd about that tombstone, Wiggam," observed Roger. "Do you suppose the wind could have tipped it?"

"Possibly, sir," replied Wiggam. "But may I remind you that we have used the time allotted for our

"That's right, Wiggam. We were to go all the way around the house and return by the front door. Very well,

Since Roger and Wiggam were going around by the kitchen, The Shadow took the path by the other wing. He

kept close to the wall of the house, feeling his way along it by the shingles of which it was constructed. In the

shelter of the portecochere, The Shadow waited until Roger and Wiggam arrived. When they went into the

As a mode of entry, The Shadow personally preferred the front door, because it gave access to all the house.

In the great hall, Dunninger and the reporters were hearing what Roger and Wiggam had to say. The

tombstone was possible evidence of prowlers and would therefore nullify any manifestations outside the

house, but that was unimportant. Tonight, Dunninger was concentrating upon events indoors.

Not only had Dunninger taped the door that led to the tower; he had done the same with the back door that

Jennifer so frequently used. To make sure that all was intact, Dunninger sent the reporters to examine the

doors in question. Those who went upstairs were to continue down through the kitchen and around through

Roger and Wiggam decided to go along, one with each group, but Gustave preferred to remain by the fire and

debate the subject of ghosts with Torrance. While the pair were thus engaged, Dunninger stood before the

It was during this interlude that The Shadow tried the front door. Finding it unlatched, he opened it. Outer

blackness seemed to filter through space too narrow for a human figure to navigate. As softly as it had

Neither Gustave nor Torrance noted the motion of the door, though they were in positions where they could

have. As for Dunninger, his back was toward the door, making it impossible for him to observe what

happened. Nevertheless, the door had hardly closed before Dunninger turned about.

Whether the investigator possessed some psychic power of his own, or had detected a faint breeze from the

door, was a debatable question. The important thing was that Dunninger turned, not in the direction of the

door, but toward the higher portion of the stairway. From there his eye ran down the steps, viewing them

through the rails of the banister, spaces that received light from a lamp in the little upstairs hall.

Had The Shadow gone up those stairs, Dunninger would have glimpsed the passing blackness, thus detecting

an unidentified presence without the aid of a mercury bowl. But The Shadow did not ascend the stairs. He

stopped at their turn, only a few steps above the ground floor. There, shrouded by thick darkness beyond the

The others were returning, some from the arch beneath the stairs, the others from the dining room. Both

reported that the doors were still sealed, but the group that came through the kitchen remarked that Hector

had forgotten to wash the dishes. The oversight pleased Dunninger, since it placed everything in the same

"We have three possibilities to consider," declared Dunninger. "The first, which I reject, is that paranormal

As he said "stairs" Dunninger gestured in the direction mentioned. Not once had his gaze left the upper steps.

"In a sense, yes," replied Dunninger, "though the term is hardly apt, since it applies to nonexistent creatures."

"But those nails!" exclaimed Gustave, suddenly. "Only a ghost could have tossed them!"

There wasn't a change in Dunninger's expression as he put the question. He was standing with his hands

behind him, his back to the fire. He didn't budge from his position nor move a muscle, yet at that moment

something skimmed down from the ceiling and struck the floor in the center of the room.

Clyde picked up the object. It proved to be a fairsized bolt. While Gustave stared, Clyde looked inquiringly

at Dunninger. Unquestionably the investigator had just demonstrated his ability at duplicating spirit

"Another possibility, and a real one," continued Dunninger, "is that persons living in this house are

responsible for the supposed phenomena. If they are" his eyes were still fixed on the stair top, as though he

pictured Jennifer and Hector as the persons in question "it is quite unlikely that they are guilty of conscious

fraud. Sometimes a long residence in a house like this produces a hypnotic effect upon the occupants."

The Shadow saw Roger glance at Gustave, who winced. There wasn't a doubt that the elder of the two

Stanbridge brothers was showing the effects of too long a stay in the weird mansion.

"The final possibility," concluded Dunninger, "is equally acceptable. It is simply that certain unknown

"But that's impossible!" expressed Roger. "I'll admit that I believed it until this afternoon, but we have

thoroughly measured the house for secret passages without result. There is no way anyone could enter

As Dunninger repeated the phrase, he seemed to nod agreement. The reason was that he was letting his gaze

travel down the stairs until it reached the lower turn where darkness still obscured The Shadow. Then:

"The front door would be a good mode of entry," decided Dunninger, "but I can assure you that if anyone did

come in that way, he could not yet have reached the second floor, which is also the only way by which he

Inasmuch as Dunninger's position blocked off the door to the dining room, the statement held weight. But no

one, not even Clyde, suspected that Dunninger was treating the front door question seriously.

TO a degree, the situation pleased The Shadow. Dunninger was keeping it static, almost as though he

recognized that a hidden presence could represent a fellow investigator using tactics different than his own.

Down from the second floor came a rattle of unexpected objects. Not nails this time, but stones; small ones,

but of various colors and shapes. As they hit, they bounced, making such a racket that there seemed a much

Human or ghostly, that hand betrayed itself to The Shadow. He was located where he could see the top of the

stairs, though he himself was invisible. At the first clatter, The Shadow looked up in time to catch a glimpse

Everyone else in the great hall was excited, ready to dash for the front stairs. Dunninger raised a hand to

restrain them and at the same time glanced toward a shelf at the extreme rear of the hall. On that shelf was the

The silvery liquid was registering a vibration. It meant that someone more bodily than a ghost was moving in

the upper passage, the slight jar carrying down through the wall. Then, as the mercury jiggled slightly,

Hear from the kitchen they did, when the whole table load of dishes perished with a mighty crash. The huge

smash was the one thing Dunninger awaited. Though he suspected The Shadow's presence, he knew that it

did not account for either of the manifestations. Therefore Dunninger welcomed the presence of the cloaked

It meant that The Shadow would have a head start toward trapping the ghost. So instead of starting for the

front stairs, Dunninger waved others in that direction, while he turned to lead the rest around through the

Dunninger's gesture was as good as a cue. With silent speed, The Shadow started up the front stairs knowing

he could reach the top before the others gained the lower landing. Should anyone be coming up the back

As he reached the stair top, he saw Jennifer coming toward him. To avoid complications, The Shadow

wheeled into the little hallway just to the left of the stairs. There was a coat rack beside the writing table and

Jennifer's cape was hanging on it. Since the little hall was lighted, The Shadow made a quick twist behind the

From that position, The Shadow could still spot anyone who might pass the little hall. He saw Jennifer come

"It's Hector's work!" stormed Jennifer. "I saw him go down the back stairs to the kitchen!"

As she turned to point, Jennifer gave a stare. Hector was coming along the upstairs passage from the direction

of his own room. Irked by the accusation he was wheezing that he had heard Jennifer leave her own room

At that moment, Margo stepped from the Green Room, opening its door outward. She was wearing her

slippers and dressing gown, but the latter was merely wrapped around her, because in her haste, she had been

Swinging the door shut behind her, Margo stared as Jennifer faced the group anew. Forgetting her brief

Crazily, the old lady pointed to the door past Margo. Despite herself, Margo turned. As she did, a vague

white figure loomed from the depths of the Green Room, to lunge at her through the doorway!

As Margo shrieked, The Shadow made a quick swoop from beside the stairs, not to reach Margo, but to stop

Gustave, who was arriving with the shotgun. Catching the weapon by a reach across the man's shoulders, The

Shadow diverted it above Margo's head, which wasn't difficult, for Margo, with a backward step, had tripped

From where she sat, Margo heard the gun roar above her head. The report was followed by a smash that

There was one ghost less in Stanbridge Manor. One ghost less, because it wasn't a ghost at all.

What Margo had seen was her own reflection in a full length mirror that formed that front of the door. In his

Of course the ghost had dropped away when Margo sat down in the opposite direction. Accordingly, Gustave

As the gun recoiled, The Shadow added a quick tripping action to help it carry Gustave backward. Hitting the

floor, Gustave attracted so much attention that The Shadow escaped notice. He was at the head of the front

stairs, which the rest had passed, and by a quick side twist, he dropped below the upper steps.

From there, The Shadow caught a glimpse of Hector's white coat, moving toward the door of the Colonial

Room, which was open. Hector must have closed the door, for a few moments later, he was visible again, this

Beyond the clustered persons in the upstairs passage, Hector was beckoning to Dunninger and the rest who

had gone through the kitchen. Finding nothing there except broken dishes, they had completed their

roundabout trail by coming up the back stairs. While the first arrivals were explaining matters to the

newcomers, The Shadow glided down the front stairs and out the front door, latching it behind him to prevent

While Dunninger was investigating matters indoors, The Shadow intended to patrol the outside of the house.

SINCE tragedy had been averted, the mirror door provided some comic relief to an otherwise tense situation.

A good many of the doors in the mansion had mirrors, on one side or the other, but Margo hadn't happened to

The door was open when Margo had been shown into the Green Room, hence its mirror was against the

passage wall. In closing the door behind her, Margo, naturally, couldn't have seen the mirror, because it was

As for Gustave, he had forgotten all about the mirror, at least so he claimed. Though he really owed apologies

to Margo, he was extending them to every one else. Margo was just as glad, because it gave her a chance to

Rather ruefully, Margo felt that the fault was her own. If she'd waited longer in the first place, she could have

put the gown on properly. In that case, it would have fully covered the white nightie that had shown enough

Having regained her composure, Margo found that she needed her notebook. Though everyone agreed that

Gustave had blasted the mirror with his shot gun, testimony conflicted on all other points, so it was necessary

to record whatever each witness had to say. The person who had the most to say was Gustave, so Dunninger

Haggard of face, quavering of tone, Gustave insisted that a ghost had figured in the case. He wasn't thinking

of the stones that had rattled down the stairs, nor the dishes that broke in the kitchen. What bothered Gustave

From Gustave's description, the thing was a cross between an octopus and a gorilla, having the grip of the

former and the strength of the latter. But the hybrid creature was a ghost as well, because it had disappeared

No one agreed with Gustave's statement. The rest simply felt that he had exaggerated the kick he received

In contrast to Gustave, Jennifer supplied some remarkably accurate testimony. Though she had lapsed briefly

into her favorite theme of ghosts, she was willing to forgo it. Having forgotten that Margo was in the Green

Room, Jennifer thought in terms of ghosts when she saw the door swing open, but she was now inclined to

Ghosts were impossible, according to Jennifer, when a disturbing presence like Dunninger was on hand.

Jennifer declared that Hector had played the ghost and she didn't exactly blame him. In fact, it was only right

that the servant should have tried to maintain the family tradition under trying circumstances.

Stoutly, Jennifer declared that she had seen Hector go down to the kitchen. Returning, he must have thrown

the stones and hurried back to his room. There was one flaw to Jennifer's theory: the crash in the kitchen had

come after the throwing of the stones. Letting that pass, Dunninger asked Hector to state his case.

Instead of mentioning Jennifer's mistake, Hector simply denied all culpability on the ground that Jennifer had

done the things herself. Considering that Jennifer justified the deeds, Hector did not feel that she would resent

the impeachment. He believed that Jennifer had thrown the stones, gone down to the kitchen, dumped the

The flaw in this case was that Jennifer was not spry enough for such rapid action. The business of her speedy

Both Roger and Torrance had gone with Dunninger, but Clyde and Wiggam were among the few who had

used the front stairs. None of them told stories exactly alike, but they did correspond satisfactorily. All

They'd looked the other way when the old lady indicated Margo's door. Margo's screech and Gustave's

discharge of the shotgun were both described, along with the sprawls the two had taken, but nobody could

SINCE nobody could remember, Dunninger opened the door himself and went into the ancient room. It

proved quite empty, closet and all, so Dunninger suggested that they go down to the great hall and examine

The stones looked like odd pebbles that might have been gathered anywhere. When Dunninger spread the

collection on the table where Jennifer usually kept the planchette, Gustave eyed them closely and suddenly

Hardly had he blurted those words, before his face went haggard, for Gustave suddenly remembered that he

was chiming in with Jennifer's pet claim that Donald's spirit was responsible for things that happened around

"They do look like Donald's," remarked Roger. "He used to ramble all over the country, collecting odd

"Jennifer has them!" Gustave's eyes glared through his deathmask face. "She keeps them locked away

"Don't look at Hector," sneered Gustave. "He couldn't have dug up these. It's your work, Jennifer. You

wanted us to think that Donald's spirit was around, even though it couldn't be. So you chucked these stones

Haughtily, Jennifer turned to the stairs, stating that she would soon return. She came back, bringing a square

box and handed the key to Dunninger, who unlocked the box. It proved to be nearly full of odd stones

resembling those that had spattered down the stairs. When Dunninger asked if he could keep the box a while,

"Donald's spirit would not have taken those," asserted Jennifer. "He is no longer of this world, hence he is not

When Jennifer had gone, Hector began to shift uneasily, fearing that he would have to bear the brunt of all

remaining accusations. To even the score, Dunninger told the servant he could retire. Then, in brief style,

Reminding the listeners that his business was to explain or duplicate any phenomena, Dunninger declared

that nothing had occurred beyond such limits. Either Jennifer or Hector could have been responsible for

everything that had happened tonight, thus their mutual accusations were in order.

Everyone seemed willing to agree until Dr. Torrance brought up the question of the dishes, insisting that

Jennifer couldn't have reached the second floor in time to alibi herself and that Hector couldn't have gone

AS on a previous night, the candlestick was lying on the floor, its candle broken like the dishes. Pointing to

the table, Dunninger called attention to the fact that its edge was dabbed with thick grease, evidently

drippings from candles. Torrance remembered that the candle grease had been there the other night.

Picking up a candle, Dunninger lighted it and applied the flaming wick to the wax on the table edge. After the

wax softened, he set the candle there, fixing it firmly. Picking up some larger fragments of chinaware,

Dunninger set them in overlapping fashion so that their weight rested against the burning candle. He left the

After a few minutes, the burning candle began to weaken. Suddenly it yielded and the flock of dishes took a

slide, carrying the candle with them. Slanted as they were, the dishes continued right to the floor, smashing

what remained of them. To all appearances the candlestick had been dumped with the chinaware.

"So that was it!" exclaimed Roger. "I'd never have guessed the trick myself. Still, the wax on the table edge

proved it. Now the question is: who did it, Jennifer or Hector? This stunt would have allowed either of them

time to get upstairs and chuck the stones. Of course Jennifer had the box, but Hector might have found the

Dunninger simply shrugged as though it didn't matter. Having proven the existence of fraud, his work was

done. He was willing to let Jennifer and Hector each have their out at the expense of the other.

"Suppose we go outside," suggested Roger, "and see what we can learn about the tower ghost. That's the only

The clouds were clearing, bringing a fair show of moonlight, when the group came out by the front door and

went beyond the portecochere. As they moved back and forth across the dawn, Wiggam pointed suddenly

The others joined the caretaker. Wiggam was right; the tower did show a curious shape in white, stooping

oddly amid the open work. The thing wavered, but as witnesses watched, they noted that its action was

An increase of the moonlight banished the illusion. From this angle, the trees of the cemetery formed a

background behind the tower. Wiggam had chanced upon a spot where the one tree directly behind the tower

was a white birch. A long bough sloping up behind the tower was responsible for the ghostly form.

Margo hadn't gone outdoors, because it was too chilly. She heard the facts from Clyde when he returned and

set them down in the notebook along with the other data. That done, Margo went back to her room, quite

From her darkened window, the girl saw figures moving along beside the house. The men weren't carrying

flashlights, probably because they didn't need them, now that the moonlight had begun to glow. Turning the

Margo decided that they must be some of the reporters, having a look around the grounds. Still, when Clyde

Then, off in the distant moonlight, Margo saw a figure that should have worried her, though it didn't. It was a

fleeting form, so briefly visible that it answered the description of a ghost. But it wasn't white; it was black.

That satisfied Margo. She could even fancy that the whine of the wind was carrying the echoes of an eerie

laugh. Such mirth produced shudders from most persons who heard it, but Margo was exempt. To her that

Margo was sure that The Shadow was still on the scene, ready to solve the remaining shreds of the ghostly

THE next day, Dunninger began to collect the apparatus that he had stationed around Stanbridge Manor. The

appliances proved to be more varied than anyone had supposed. Among other things, Dunninger gathered in

His cameras, too, were all about, hidden in some very surprising places. A small one, for instance, was under

the table in the little upstairs hallway where Jennifer had put the planchette and its pad of loose papers.

Another was neatly perched within an old grandfather's clock in the Colonial Room.

Only Clyde and Margo witnessed this assembling of Dunninger's devices. It almost seemed that the psychic

investigator had marked them as privileged persons among the visitors at Stanbridge Manor. After removing

tapes from various doors, Dunninger went over Margo's notes and asked her to type them in duplicate.

Part of the day, Dunninger was busy developing photographs, while Clyde saw to it that nobody disturbed

him. In the dark room, he spent some time examining the stones that had bounced down the stairs. He finally

returned the box and its contents to Jennifer, but politely kept the other specimens, because Jennifer denied

In going over Margo's notes, Dunninger made a few additions, mostly in the form of underlined statements.

"Include the three possibilities," stated Dunninger. "First, that paranormal entities, otherwise ghosts, are

"But not in your circle," put in Margo, with a smile. "Shall I include that statement?"

"Of course," replied Dunninger, "because they have been satisfactorily disproven in this case. Next,

emphasize the explanation that I did give; that of persons in the household playing the ghost."

"I'll keep it neutral," nodded Margo. "Shall I mention that it could have been unconscious fraud?"

"Certainly. It could apply to either Jennifer or Hector, especially if both were involved in it. But don't forget

Margo added the third point, wondering how much inkling Dunninger had regarding The Shadow's presence.

Personally, Margo was convinced that The Shadow must have been the octorilla that had ruined Gustave's

aim with the shotgun, but she couldn't understand how Dunninger knew it, considering that he had still been

in the kitchen when the gun kicked Gustave about three times as far as it should have.

Late that afternoon, Lamont Cranston arrived in a car, to find if Margo intended to return to New York. It

turned out that Margo didn't, because Dunninger planned to stay another evening, through the hour when

ghosts were accustomed to appear. The reporters were staying, too, on the hope that something new might

Leaving at dusk, Cranston complimented Margo on her fortitude at remaining another night in Stanbridge

Manor. In reply, she said that she wouldn't stay unless Clyde did; if he left, she would go along.

AFTER supper, everyone waited for something to happen. Even though Dunninger had removed all of his

special equipment, nothing did happen, because tonight the human element was being considered. The human

element was divided between Jennifer and Hector. Both remained in the great hall along with the rest.

The ghost hour over, Jennifer announced that she was going to pay a visit to Donald's grave, something that

she had neglected on the previous evening. She went upstairs and returned wearing her gray cape. The

reporters looked hopefully at Dunninger, thinking he might let them trail Jennifer out through the cemetery,

When Jennifer returned, Dunninger politely took her cape and carried it upstairs. When he returned, he

announced that the ghost hunt was over. He asked Margo to bring down her notes so the reporters could go

over them. It was when Margo was coming from the Green Room that she saw something which startled her.

A door was opening across the hall. It was the door of the Colonial Room and it stopped the moment that

Margo observed it. The thing was uncanny, even though Margo could hear laughing voices coming from the

floor below. Going over to the door, Margo gripped it and drew it slowly shut. The door continued its motion

There was a slight breeze in the passage, coming from the Green Room window that Margo had forgotten to

close. She decided that it explained the motion of the door, so she went downstairs, and joined the others.

When somebody asked jocularly if she had met with any ghosts, Margo mentioned the breeze and said that it

had startled her until she realized what caused it. But she said nothing about the moving door.

The door was moving again, though Margo did not know it. Out from the darkened room emerged the most

spectral figure that had ever appeared in Stanbridge Manor. The cloaked shape of The Shadow was again at

PAUSING briefly, The Shadow felt the breeze that Margo had noted. Silently, he continued to the little

hallway beside the stairs. There, in the glow of the night lamp, he took a sheet of paper from Jennifer's pad

and wrote a message on it, in ink from a fountain pen that The Shadow personally carried.

Folding the paper, The Shadow kept it tightly pressed. Advancing to the stair top, he leaned forward and

peered below. He could see the group in the great hall, but at his angle above the balcony rail, The Shadow

could have remained totally invisible. However, he preferred to reveal his presence, for any who chose to

The Shadow did it with his eyes. Fixed on the scene below, those optics caught the gleam of the upstairs lamp

and reflected it like orbs from outer space. Singular eyes those, fiery spots in blotting blackness, which

There was much of the magnetic in The Shadow's burning gaze. Again, the man who sensed the proximity of

a strange presence was Dunninger. Over by the fireplace, Dunninger looked upward with a roving glance that

The reason for the drift was that The Shadow's eyes had gone. Instead, his hand momentarily appeared beside

the newel post at the stair top. Being gloved in black, the hand revealed itself only as a passing blur that

momentarily clouded the rail from which The Shadow's cloaked form had already faded. But the object that

Again, it was a contrast of black and white. The thing that caught Dunninger's gaze was the folded sheet of

There was something deft in The Shadow's toss. A neat twist of his wrist caused the paper to flip away from

the stairs under the ceiling below. There it hovered as though supported by an invisible hand until it drifted

toward the center of the room, where it slipped free from the air currents and came downward.

Perhaps Dunninger's roving gaze had carried theirs along, but neither realized it. To Margo it seemed that the

fluttering paper must have come right through the solid ceiling, while Jennifer thought it had materialized in

midair. Both were quite astonished and showed it by their gasps, which attracted the attention of the other

Men came to their feet to reach excitedly for the mysterious whirligig. Roger was moving from one direction,

Wiggam from another, while Clyde and Torrance also had the same idea. Gustave remained seated, shrinking

as though from something fearful, while Hector took some backward steps toward the dining room door.

Dunninger, alone, appeared to be indifferent to the paper's arrival. He simply turned and strolled to the rear of

the great hall, near the shelf where he had once placed the mercury bowl. There, he turned again, straight

toward the fireplace, where the men who sought the fluttering paper had followed it and were stretching like

Flippantly the paper winged upward, away from the seeking hands. It took a long, sideward skim that ended

THE effect was uncanny; it seemed that Dunninger had magnetized the winged message. Then the real

The paper had simply dipped into the warm air rising from the hearth and had shied upward and away.

Gauging its probable course, Dunninger had stepped to the proper place to receive it. Now he was unfolding

the paper and scanning its blueinked lines which no one else was in a position to glimpse.

That writing began to vanish word by word, which was the way with messages that The Shadow inscribed in

his special ink. Dunninger was stepping toward the group and they all felt sure that he was reading something

until he neared them. By then Dunninger was showing the paper openly, since it had gone quite blank, but he

Instead of reading the paper, Dunninger was scrutinizing it against the firelight. He beckoned to others so

they could look acrosshis shoulder and observe the watermark that showed through the paper against the

"One of the planchette papers," remarked Dunninger. "I examined the loose ones on the pad. The watermark

"Now will you believe in spirits?" croaked Jennifer. "Only Donald's unseen hand could have folded that

"Hardly Donald's hand," corrected Dunninger. "He would certainly have favored us with some planchette

writing. Here, Burke, take this paper and place it on the rail at the top of the stairs, with the open fold toward

Clyde did as requested. Hardly had he come downstairs again before the paper caught a passing breeze and

performed another pirouette down into the great hall. It didn't gyrate as it had before, for its flutter ended

short of the fireplace; but the point was proven that the thing could have happened without the assistance of a

Some thought that Dunninger had arranged the trick himself, to show how easily such things could be done.

Then, remembering how amazingly he had projected a bolt into the great hall, they decided that Jennifer or

Hector had placed the paper. Dunninger could have noticed it when he took the cape upstairs and thus been

Only Margo had a sudden inkling that The Shadow had arranged the ruse. She recalled the mysterious motion

Margo was still debating mentally when people began to leave. The reporters were pleased because they

could add the matter of the fluttering paper to their stories. Margo, too, was about to leave, when she caught a

glance from Clyde, which meant he was coming back. So Margo announced that she was going to spend

There would certainly be some further data, for Margo observed that Dunninger was writing something in

pencil on the slip of paper that had winged down from the second floor. As he bowed out through the front

door, Dunninger laid his hand on Margo's palm, closed her fingers in what seemed to be a modified

Cars were pulling away out front when Margo turned to go up to her room. Halfway upstairs, she wondered

why she was keeping her hand clenched. Opening it, she found to her surprise that it contained a tightly

Dunninger had placed it there during his farewell gesture. It was his reply to the secret message from The

DURING the hour while she awaited Clyde's return, Margo went over the batch of notes. From them she

gained an idea that had not struck her earlier. Though Dunninger had proved his second theory plausible;

namely that persons living in the mansion could have produced the manifestations, the real answer might lie

It added to that other theory of persons unknown entering the house and springing the ghost stuff.

Margo was personally sure that The Shadow had dropped the fluttering note from upstairs. He couldn't have

arrived there except by some secret way. Whatever the route, it was obvious that other persons could have

Where the route was located, proved as puzzling to Margo as why outsiders would want to mingle in the

Stanbridge affairs at all. As she studied a copy of the floor plan, Margo could not pick a possible flaw, hence

secret entry seemed impossible. As for the outsiders, it seemed utter folly for them to come into the house

Perhaps there was treasure in Stanbridge Manor and interlopers were seeking it. In that case, the ghost

The treasure idea dwindled as Margo thought it over. If the mansion lacked hiding places, there couldn't be

any secret treasure. But the crime angle still seemed plausible, even though Margo racked her mind to find a

Dunninger's departure was an indication. His business was hunting ghosts, not crooks. It struck Margo that

the psychic investigator could have scented what was really wrong in Stanbridge Manor and therewith left the

Knowing about The Shadow's remarkable ink, because she herself had received messages written in it, Margo

decided that there had originally been a note on the paper. Dunninger must have read it before it faded; hence

Margo was almost tempted to open the folded paper and learn what it said. Then, deciding against it, she

DR. TORRANCE had left for Coledale and Wiggam had gone back to his cottage. Only Gustave and Roger

were in the great hall. They were talking over the ghost business, since Jennifer wasn't around to cloud it with

absurdities, though in the course of things, the brothers mentioned their sister and her theories.

"It's all very plausible," argued Gustave. "I mean Dunninger's explanation. What happened while he was here

could have been done the way he says it was. But Dunninger wasn't with us the other night."

"Neither were Jennifer and Hector," reminded Roger. "Either of them could have been faking then, just as

"I don't think it matters. One or the other, it's all the same. If they both want to keep up the silly game, it's all

"There were other things," spoke Gustave, hoarsely. "Things I never mentioned. Strange whispers upstairs;

"I know that Jennifer and Hector were in their rooms when these things happened," persisted Gustave. "You

"Your nerves are slipping," argued Roger. "Mine would, too, if I lived too long in this place. Why don't you

"She could go, too. I'd pension Hector off and get some new servants. If I found the place worrying me, I'd

Gustave began rubbing his hands as though they were chilly, which was odd because he was very close to the

fire and it was crackling brightly. Apparently Gustave was considering Roger's suggestions, but after a while,

the elder brother shook his head. He didn't seem to relish leaving Stanbridge Manor.

A sudden thump at the front door caused a quick change in Gustave's expression. He sprang half from his

chair as though reverting to his fear of ghosts. Smilingly, Roger opened the door and admitted Clyde. Giving

"Smart of you to come back, Burke," commended Roger. "If anything new happens, you'll have the edge on

the other reporters. But I don't think anything is going to happen, so what say we all turn in for the night?"

GOING to the Green Room, Margo changed to her dressing gown and waited intently for a knock at the door,

since she was sure that Clyde would be anxious to compare notes. At last the tap came, very muffled, and

She could scarcely see Clyde because the passage was very black, and Margo wondered why the night lamp

wasn't burning in the little hallway beside the stairs where Jennifer always left her cape. Then, as Clyde

stepped into the Green Room, the blackness followed him and the light suddenly appeared. A moment later

Clyde hadn't come alone; The Shadow was with him. Removing his hat and dropping his cloak, he revealed

Margo didn't ask what mode of entry The Shadow had used for this visit. She simply gave him the note from

Dunninger. Opening the note, The Shadow read it. An approving laugh whispered from the lips that wore

The Shadow reached for Margo's notes and went through them very carefully. Margo could see a keen glow

in his eyes as he scanned certain paragraphs that the girl had underlined at Dunninger's request

"Our conclusions tally," remarked The Shadow. "My outside observations conform to those that Dunninger

recorded indoors. We both checked three ghosts, even though so many were unnecessary."

"Call them three men," replied The Shadow, in Cranston's calm tone. "Crispin, Freer and Dorthan. I suppose

they all wanted to have their share of the fun, though Crispin and Freer managed it themselves, the night

"Last night they managed their sneak about the time I reached the cemetery," The Shadow continued. "I

didn't see them enter, but I gained an inkling. Anyway, the manifestations began immediately afterward. I

"But you were outside," remarked Clyde. "How did Dunninger learn anything in here?"

The Shadow pointed to a list of figures among Margo's notes. Some had to do with photographs; others with

"Dunninger placed cameras at three salient spots," explained The Shadow, "each had a special timer, as did

the micrometers planted with them. One spot was the kitchen; the second, the little hall above the front stairs;

the third spot was the tower. The cameras contained films sensitive to infrared rays. Even in darkness, they

"The recordings were simultaneous," replied The Shadow. "The timing devices on the cameras recorded it.

"Ordinarily one man could have placed the candle and then gone upstairs to toss the stones," The Shadow

stated. "Last night things had to happen fast. One man threw the stones and was immediately away, because

"The chap downstairs had to dump the dishes if the candle failed. The delay was serious. Actually the man

should have been trapped when he reached the second floor. A lucky circumstance aided him."

"Jennifer, of course!" exclaimed Margo. "She pointed to me and called me a ghost!"

"Hector may have had a hand in it," put in Clyde. "He started quite an argument."

"It was Gustave who fired the shotgun," reminded The Shadow. "Whether or not he merely let his excitement

overwhelm him, he was the one who really diverted full attention. Of one thing, however, we can be quite

sure. Someone in this house is backing the ghost play, otherwise the crooks would never have come here."

Clyde and Margo began to weigh the possible demerits of Gustave and Jennifer, having by this time decided

"To attract attention," replied The Shadow. "He was to wait until someone came in line with the birch tree as

Wiggam did. The crooks wanted to explode the ghost myth because they had gone too far with it. The birch

tree worked, but it didn't fully qualify. The night I first saw the figure in the tower, I was behind the house,

PERHAPS The Shadow would have proceeded further with his discussion, but for the fact that his keen ears

caught a sound from the hallway beyond Margo's door, which was somewhat thinned now that it had lost its

mirror facing. Lifting his hand for silence, The Shadow waited; when the noise ended, he took a glance at

Turning out the light, The Shadow became invisible as he stepped to the rear window. For that matter, Clyde

and Margo remained unseen, even after The Shadow raised the shade, for thickening clouds had completely

"Someone has just left the house," declared The Shadow. "That person is about to join the confederates who

As they watched across the flat porch behind Margo's room, a phantom figure suddenly appeared beyond the

house. Of all the shapes seen at Stanbridge Manor, this was the most ghostly. It seemed to have a glowing

face that squinted back through the darkness as it moved away. To Margo's strained eyes, the thing looked

The weird thing reached a bulky block of whiteness which promptly swallowed it. The ghost, or whatever it

was, had gone into the old mausoleum. It was as if some master of the dead had returned to his own

"Whoever it was," replied The Shadow, "that person is wearing Jennifer's cape. Since Jennifer is the only

member of the household who visits the cemetery, our ghost was wearing the cape purely to avoid suspicion."

"But I didn't see the cape," began Margo. "How could I see it in the dark? I saw a face "

"A face that Dunninger mentioned in the note he sent me," interposed The Shadow. "He took Jennifer's cape

upstairs a short while before he left. He outlined the face on the back of the cape, using luminous paint that

Motioning his companions out to the passage, The Shadow pointed to the little hallway. By the glow of the

night lamp, Clyde and Margo saw that the cape was gone. Dunninger's ruse had worked; he had left a sure

The Shadow pointed to the doorway along the passage. Clyde went to Gustave's door and listened. He

eliminated Gustave by the latter's snores. Meanwhile, Margo softly opened the opposite door and viewed old

Sneaking along the passage, Clyde was bound for Hector's room, confident that the old servant must be the

missing person. As a matter of mere routine, Clyde opened Roger's room and took a glance inside. Roger's

bed was directly in the path of light that crossed Clyde's shoulder from the hallway.

Amazed, Clyde turned about. Margo saw his face and knew from its expression that Roger was gone.

Margo's own face reflected Clyde's amazement. Of all persons in the mansion, Roger was the one they had

Along the passage came a whispered laugh, weirdly expressive, as though The Shadow had foreseen this

The Shadow, too, had gone, along the ghostly trail of Roger Stanbridge, the real menace of the manor!

UNDER the black sky, Stanbridge Manor showed a few flickers of light from its windows, rendering it

visible in the night. The flickers, particularly those from the downstairs fire, could be mistaken for ghostly

In turn, that was probably the reason why the mansion held such a weird reputation, yet when considered

logically, Stanbridge Manor was not the most sinister house in this neighborhood. That title belonged to a

little building so seldom noticed that it was invariably overlooked; namely, the cottage owned by Wiggam.

Finding no trace of Roger in the mausoleum, The Shadow had begun a zigzag rove toward Wiggam's.

Nowhere did he find a path leading from the crypt, but that did not surprise him. Others than Roger had

vanished after entering the mausoleum and The Shadow was convinced that their route was underground.

There were deep ditches leading from the Stanbridge property, some of them much like gullies, worn by

years of drainage. Though much neglected, these ditches showed some signs of repair. Always it was to one

purpose, to veer them away from each other, leaving a path between. At no spot did a ditch cross the straight

An old road did cross that imaginary line. It had a curious hump that showed in the roving glare of The

Shadow's well guarded flashlight. Though years of disuse had smothered the fact, there were still a few

indications that the hump was artificial. Digging into the dirt, The Shadow found chunks of gravel and

As chance had it, The Shadow made another find. Something glistened silvery deep in the dried grass that

nearly covered the old road. Something that someone had dropped, as The Shadow learned when he

examined the article. Pocketing it, The Shadow continued on to Wiggam's, to discover more than he

Despite its trifling size, Wiggam's cottage was more formidable than the manor. From a distance it looked

flimsy, but at close range its strength was apparent. Enough light was filtering from the returning moon for

The Shadow to observe patches of brick through the stucco facing of the cottage walls. Closed shutters were

backed with sheets of steel, that glistened through the slats when viewed from a close angle.

Even the chimney was topped by an ornamental grating and The Shadow could tell from the slight projection

of the doors that they were but concealing surfaces for heavier barriers behind them. Yet even by daylight, no

The caretaker was regarded simply as a recluse who had spent his life's earnings in buying and improving a

cottage which he preferred to keep tight shut because he lived there alone. Indeed, people pitied Wiggam,

Noting the strength of the wellfaked cottage, The Shadow glided off into the night, his whispered laugh a

promise of future invasion by a route whereby Wiggam would never expect intruders.

WITHIN the cottage, Wiggam was seated at a table in a room with heavy curtains that blocked off any

chance of escaping light. The curious thing was that even in his fortified home, Wiggam still looked the part

of the faithful old retainer, a man to whom integrity was law. There was no brightness in his tired face; it still

Wiggam's honest manner was in no way lessened by the fact that he was harboring three men of crime. They

were seated about the table, helping themselves to drinks while they bragged of their recent exploits. All that

Wiggam drank was the chatter of his guests, accepting it without the slightest grimace.

Most talkative of the group was Carl Dorthan, the heavyjawed embezzler who had reached Stanbridge

Manor just ahead of The Shadow's first visit. To Dorthan's left sat Harvey Crispin, whose pointed face and

quick eyes gave him a foxlike expression. On the right was Wallace Freer, a pokerfaced man with a

straightchopped forehead that almost hid the eyes between his equally vertical nose.

Lifting a glass, Dorthan looked between the other embezzlers and gave Wiggam an approving stare.

"To Wiggam!" toasted Dorthan. "A great fellow, Wiggam. We're for him, all of us, and soon there'll be more

Rising politely Wiggam bowed as the others drank. As the droopfaced man seated himself, Dorthan leaned

Crispin and Freer shifted uneasily as they glanced toward a door that led down into the cellar. They were

afraid that Dorthan was bearing too heavily on Wiggam and they wondered what Roger would have to say

about it. But Wiggam remained quite unruffled. When he spoke, his tone was matter of fact.

"I am a Wiggam, sir," declared the old retainer. "My family has always served the master of Stanbridge

"The good old rule," approved Dorthan. "The king can do no wrong. Is that it, Wiggam?"

There was a short silence, then Wiggam cleared his throat and proceeded with a further explanation:

"You see, gentlemen, the secrets of Stanbridge Manor belong only to the head of the family. But each master

has always entrusted those secrets to a Wiggam. So whenever the head of the Stanbridge family dies, it is a

Dorthan supplied a puzzled frown. He nudged his thumb in the general direction of the manor.

"But what about Gustave, who owns the place at present? He doesn't know anything, does he?"

As Wiggam hesitated in replying, the door from the cellar opened and Roger entered. He was just in time to

HELPING himself to a drink, Roger finished it and promptly poured a second. Gesturing occasionally with

"Gustave is a stinker," declared Roger. "We all know it, including Wiggam. But the man who knew it most

was my eldest brother Donald. Trouble was, he couldn't throw Gustave out. No Stanbridge ever did throw a

relative out of the manor. The original will left by my greatgreat grandfather, provides against it."

Roger's gestures were making the glass spill, so he finished half his drink before he continued.

"Donald told Wiggam all about the mansion," said Roger. "But he told him something else. He said that

Gustave was hounding him and that if he should die suddenly, it would be Gustave's fault. Wasn't that the

"Exactly, sir," replied Wiggam earnestly. "Mr. Donald used to leave the manor by the secret passage and

come here through the tunnel from the mausoleum, so Mr. Gustave wouldn't know where he had gone. Mr.

Donald said that some day I might have to protect him, so I strengthened the cottage on that account. Then,

Wiggam choked and tears filled his eyes. Roger finished his drink and laid a friendly hand upon the old

"I know," nodded Roger. "You just couldn't recognize Gustave as head of the family, so you told him

"Hoping you'd come back, Mr. Roger. I knew that you were the one to take Mr. Donald's place. I was waiting

"That's right, Wiggam, and we're waiting for another round of drinks. Slide down to the cellar and bring up

As soon as Wiggam had gone down the stairs, Dorthan leaned forward and undertoned to Roger:

"You haven't seen Gustave," snorted Roger. "He's a coward like every other stinker. He won't leave the

manor because he owns it, but he's so scared he doesn't want to stay. You should have seen him let fly with

that shotgun last night. Too bad he didn't clip the Lane girl. Doc Torrance might have sent him away."

"Donald was nuts," confided Roger. "He had a persecution complex, though Wiggam was too dumb to know

it. When Donald passed out from a heart attack, Jennifer blamed it on Gustave and Wiggam took it for

granted she was right. I wish I'd known about it at the time. I could have started this racket sooner.

"Anyway, after the mining dodge got too hot, I came home. I figured the manor would be a swell place for a

wholesale hideout, with fellows like you paying the freight. I thought I might be able to buy the house from

Gustave, so to be smart, I called on Wiggam first. Did I walk into something swell!"

Laying down his glass, Roger tapped his chest with both hands and swelled proudly.

"I was the real master of Stanbridge Manor," he declared. "Wiggam told me all about the joint, things I hadn't

even guessed. Why, you could smuggle a regiment in and out of that house if you wanted. I guess my original

ancestors used to dodge the Indians that way. And my dopey grandfather, who was afraid of being buried

alive, had gotten some Wiggams to run a secret tunnel from the mausoleum to here, so they could look in on

Wiggam was bringing up the applejack. Roger went to the stairs to help him with the crock. Dorthan gave a

sweeping gesture to denote a pleasure that both Crispin and Freer already felt. Roger hadn't added the final

point in this perfect setup, namely that Wiggam's house, fortified at Donald's crackbrained wish, was an

As a result, Roger had started his racket of hiding out crooks, without delay. In fact, he'd gone even further.

All three of the embezzlers could tell the same story; they had been approached by Roger in advance. It was

at his suggestion, coupled with a promise of absolute security, that they had delved into crime.

THE thing was a straight percentage deal. They were each paying a share to live at Wiggam's and when

Roger took over the manor, they would become his guests in more elaborate quarters, leaving Wiggam's

diggings to newcomers. Both places were so suited to inandout activities that the law would never catch up

As liquor gurgled from the fresh crock, Roger began a brief review of his current campaign.

"We're going to scare Gustave right out of his pants," asserted Roger, "and mail them to him after he runs

from the manor. Which reminds me, Wiggam, I have a letter I want you to mail tomorrow."

Wiggam smiled as he received the letter. He was filled with childish delight at Roger's desire to get rid of

"The ghost stuff is a sure bet," added Roger. "The trouble was, we played it too strong. At least you fellows

did" he gestured from Crispin to Freer "and Dorthan had the bad luck to run into Zeph Blaine. Anyway, I

"Like I fixed that bank watchman," put in Dorthan. "Permanently. Only you blamed your job on a ghost,

"Doc Torrance fell for everything," continued Roger. "I used my head, planting my own gun on Zeph, after

I'd fired two shots wide of the tower. That accounted for the two shots you fired, Dorthan. The only trouble

was, doc couldn't keep his big mouth shut. The papers picked up his jabber and brought Dunninger here. It

"We made out all right, sir," put in Wiggam. "Under the circumstances it was quite fair to make Miss Jennifer

Roger gave a sidewink at the embezzlers. The Wiggam proposition was working better than ever. It hadn't

taken Roger long to realize that Wiggam's loyalty would stand any strain; indeed he had adopted the policy of

pressing it, on the correct theory that Wiggam's long starved fealty to the proper master of Stanbridge Manor

Nevertheless, it was good to keep playing on Wiggam's personal animosities as well, so Roger added a subtle

"Now that the ghost stuff is disproven," said Roger, "we'll start working it again. Gustave will fall for it, if

nobody else does. I'll keep working him into the mood, but we must be careful when strangers are around.

Roger was stepping to the cellar door. As he went through, he turned to close it. Neither Wiggam nor the

embezzlers caught a glimpse of the luminous face that glowed only in darkness, for it didn't show until the

Though he didn't realize it, Roger Stanbridge was playing the ghost role personally. No matter how cleverly

he stalked through the darkness, he would automatically bring The Shadow on his trail.

So slight was the sound that came from within, that it could easily have been mistaken for the grind of tree

By this time he had accustomed himself to every wayward sound in this vicinity. This noise was necessarily

from the mausoleum, since no other source could produce it. Black as the night itself, The Shadow edged

The stone floor was sliding when The Shadow stepped upon it. Before he could remove his foot, it stopped.

Next, footsteps, creeping up from below. Roger was emerging from beneath the inner end of the mausoleum.

As he reached the top, he stepped to a corner. The Shadow heard a very slight click.

The floor went backward, very smoothly and The Shadow traveled with it. Roger was evidently standing on a

stone ledge that skirted the inner walls. As soon as the faint grinding ended, the floor stopped moving. Roger

Meanwhile The Shadow was moving deeper, knowing that his more skillful footfalls would be drowned by

Roger's. Hearing the door creak after Roger's exit, The Shadow focused his flashlight on the important inner

corner. Finding a loose piece in the tiled wall, The Shadow tested it, with no result.

Apparently the sliding floor had locked automatically. To operate, it would first have to be released from

below. Probably Wiggam took care of that detail whenever visitors were expected, a good point for future

Roger wasn't very far ahead. The combined result of darkness, tombstones and applejack was making his

course a stumbly one. The ghostly face that blinked from the back of Jennifer's cloak kept dipping and sidling

There was no special point in following Roger further. From his direction The Shadow knew that he was

going to a spot along the eaved wall of the mansion, just short of Margo's room. Last night, The Shadow had

suspected that wall when Roger and Wiggam kept blazing their flashlights away from it. At that time they

had been loading in their ghosts and wanted to blind any prowlers who might be on hand.

Later, The Shadow had seen the ghosts return, while everyone else was out front. He had watched the three

men hurry to the mausoleum and file inside it. It would be useless to trap Roger in the course of a prowl

Nevertheless, The Shadow was keeping fairly close to Roger when two chance circumstances combined to

produce some startling results. Just as the dull moonlight gained an increase through the open walls of the old

Worried by the moonlight, startled by the rustle, Roger had turned around. The ground was too dark to reveal

The Shadow, even if Roger had been less befogged, but in turning, Roger swung the back of the ghostly

deathhead toward the house. Unwittingly he was revealing his location to an observer other than The

A WINDOW flew open on the middle of the second floor. At the sound, Roger wheeled and ran for the

corner of the mansion. His mere act of turning caused another vanish of the luminous ghost mark that Roger

The Shadow made one guess regarding the man at the window and sprang for the shelter of the nearest

tombstone, grabbing it as he had done before. Having been left squarely in the path that the ghost face

A shotgun blasted, not once, but twice, its loads spreading wide enough to include the tombstone. Gustave

was giving both barrels from a new shotgun, aiming at the spot where the glowing face had disappeared.

Roger was away in time and The Shadow was ensconced behind the tombstone, which was tilting backward

in the usual style. Yet The Shadow did not release his weight, for he knew the stone would stop, which it did.

Clinging to it, The Shadow waited to learn if Gustave intended to unload more firearms from his arsenal, but

In her room, Margo heard the double roar and hurried to the door. She saw old Jennifer poke her head in sight

as Clyde hurried past. Farther footsteps proclaimed Hector's arrival as the servant appeared from the far turn

The arrivals were met by Gustave, who stepped from the door of the Colonial Room, shaking so badly that he

"I just saw a ghost!" Gustave might have been referring to himself, his face was so pale. "I fired at it twice

"Donald's ghost, of course," returned Jennifer. "But you can't harm Donald. He belongs to the dead."

"I wouldn't hurt Donald," protested Gustave. "Really, if he came back, I'd welcome him!"

"The dead do return," reminded Jennifer. "Perhaps that is the reason for your fear, Gustave."

"I meant if Donald returned to the living," he said. "But that would be too much to hope. Only I'm worried "

"About the ghost?" sneered Jennifer. "Come with me, Gustave and we shall view your victim. I am not afraid

Gustave looked appealingly to Clyde who nodded for Hector to come along. Margo decided to sit this one

out, preferring her window to a trip to the weird cemetery. However, she had scarcely reached the window

before she regretted her choice. From the passage that the others had just left, came footsteps that to Margo's

Huddled by the window, Margo hoped that the creeping sound would go another direction. Briefly, they

seemed to approach; then Margo heard them turn. As they started down the stairs, they suddenly become

Her courage restored, Margo hurried to the door to see a figure turn the bottom of the stairway. Looking past

the lamp in the little upstairs hall, Margo saw Jennifer's cape back on its hook.

FORTUNATELY for Roger's game, Jennifer had forgotten to look for her cloak because of her desire to

reach the cemetery. So Roger was playing it still further by becoming himself again and chasing after the

others to pretend that he had been slower in responding to the excitement that the shotgun caused.

The thing that troubled Margo was how Roger had returned. The Shadow had spoken of an exit on the second

Back at her window, Margo saw Roger overtake the rest behind the house. Then the moonlight became too

blurred to distinguish their further progress. Relaxing, Margo decided to let Clyde bring her further details.

Jennifer was pointing to the tombstone. On it was carved the name of Donald Stanbridge with the dates of his

"This is Donald's grave," reminded Jennifer. "I have visited it too often to forget it. Strange that you should

Gustave muttered as though talking to himself. Turning away he ran squarely into Roger who placed a

"I wonder if I did see Donald!" Gustave's speech was suddenly coherent. "Would he could he return to look

"Strange things can happen, Gustave," said Roger solemnly. "You are beginning to convince me, despite the

Examining the tombstone, Clyde saw the scars of buckshot. He was standing beside the slanted slab when the

others left, testing it to learn how easy it would wobble. It seemed probable that the charge from the shotgun

Since Roger had escaped intact, Gustave might have fired at some other person. Clyde drew a flashlight

intending to spread its gleam along the ground. A cloaked figure glided swiftly from beside a tree, its gloved

hand gripped Clyde's arm. Clyde swallowed so hard that he seemed to rise in the air, but he returned to earth

Noting that the rest had gone, The Shadow told Clyde to grip the tombstone and let his weight go with it.

Gingerly Clyde did so, but the sickening sensation ended with a quick stop. Drawing Clyde toward him, The

Shadow used his own tiny flashlight to disclose the crack between the stone and its base.

The upright stone had two stone dowels that fitted into holes in the base. The holes were large and somewhat

worn, enough so to allow considerable play. But the tombstone could not topple further, because the two

stone points were strong enough to stop it when they reached the limit of the sockets.

"They are all alike," replied The Shadow. "One man's weight cannot haul them over. But if two men shoved

"Two men found Zeph's body," recalled Clyde. "The two were Roger and Wiggam. Then they must have "

"He was still alive when they found him," interposed The Shadow, "but dead when they reported their

discovery. Zeph had met Dorthan, who probably stunned him. Roger preferred to make it permanent."

As capably as if he had heard Roger's own statements, The Shadow had called the turn. There was more

about Roger that The Shadow wanted Clyde to know. Leading his agent to the left wing of the house, The

As The Shadow lifted it, a section of the wall hinged upward, disclosing an entrance almost four feet wide!

THERE was enough moonlight now for Clyde to see how cleverly the entrance was concealed. It fitted the

edges of the shingles, which formed right angled zigzags up the wall to the horizontal line where the hinges

were. When The Shadow eased the trapdoor downward, it settled squarely in place.

"Between the parlor and the music room!" exclaimed Clyde. "But we measured them both and the total tallied

"It was Roger who helped you measure them," reminded The Shadow. "That fact was underlined in

"With this." The Shadow placed a metal measuring tape in Clyde's hand. "I found it where Roger tossed it in

the grass. He switched it for the regular tape, Burke, but only while you were measuring those two rooms."

The Shadow's tiny flashlight glimmered as Clyde pulled out the tape. Under the glow, the trick disclosed

itself. The tape had the first twentyfour inches clipped off. In checking the length at the other end, Clyde

The Shadow hadn't needed to find the tape, for he had already spotted the hidden entrance to the mansion.

But his find had exposed the clever method by which Roger had veiled the presence of the narrow secret

room that lay between the larger ones. Having already explored the unknown room, The Shadow gave Clyde

During the telling, they were walking toward the back door. There, The Shadow gestured his agent into the

mansion. The door closed and Clyde found himself alone, but he caught the whispered laugh that denoted the

The ways of crime were known to The Shadow. His whispered laugh was a promise that crooks would soon

THE next morning, Wiggam mailed Roger's letter. Always meticulous, Wiggam carefully affixed the stamp

that he bought at the post office window and made sure the envelope was sealed before dropping it in the

Wiggam was nodding pleasantly as he left the little post office. Everybody in Coledale knew Wiggam by

sight, so he was always cordial, though most of the people were strangers to him. But there was one stranger

who did more than return Wiggam's nod. He greeted Wiggam and when the caretaker looked closely, he

recognized the gentleman as Lamont Cranston, a recent visitor at Stanbridge Manor.

Cranston was driving up to the mansion, so Wiggam accepted his invitation to ride along. But not for a

moment did Wiggam suspect that he had been right behind him in the line at the post office window. There,

Cranston had read name and address on the letter. It was addressed to a man in Cleveland named Ralph

At the mansion, Cranston inquired if Margo intended to leave. She glanced at Clyde, who shook his head.

"We thought we saw a ghost last night," said Clyde. "It turned out to be only a tombstone, still it made a good

story that I sent to the Classic. It all belongs in the record, so I think Miss Lane ought to stay as long as I do."

Roger was approaching as Clyde finished. He gave a routine nod to Wiggam, then spoke to Cranston.

"All guests are welcome here," declared Roger. "Welcome to stay as long as they wish."

"How many days do you two intend to remain in the manor?" So slightly did Cranston stress certain words,

that neither Roger nor Wiggam noticed it. But Clyde caught the emphasis and promptly took the cue.

"Two days more," responded Clyde. "That will give us a double chance to watch for ghosts."

"And to disprove their existence," added Roger. "I'm anxious to clear up these matters because poor Gustave

In expressing concern for his brother, Roger overdid it. A short while later, Cranston and Clyde found a

chance to chat alone, out by the portecochere. Cranston promptly referred to Roger's final statement, which

"They're working on Gustave," assured Cranston. "This means the ghost stuff again, with all its trimmings.

"Probably late tomorrow night," Cranston replied. "There's one special angle to these hauntings, Burke. They

time them whenever another embezzler arrives here, so that if anyone sees him, he will be mistaken for a

"You'll hear of Ralph Putney by tomorrow. He is doing some crooked work in Cleveland, or Roger wouldn't

Cranston was turning away with one of his slightly cryptic smiles, which meant that Clyde would later learn

ALL that day, Clyde had a problem with Margo. The Shadow had told Clyde to keep the details of the secret

room to himself, so as not to worry Margo with facts she didn't need to know just yet. But Margo was

worried anyway and kept telling Clyde so. She was sure that Clyde had learned something special and she

Finally, Clyde calmed Margo's curiosity by telling her about the stones that had bounced down the front

stairs. First he referred her to the report sheets that she had typed for Dunninger.

"Look at this, Margo," said Clyde. "It states: 'Ultraviolet test negative.' Do you know what that means?"

"It means that under ultraviolet light, the stones from the stairs didn't show the mineral traces found in the

specimens from Donald's collection," explained Clyde. "They were just a lot of odd pebbles that Roger or

Wiggam picked up from a pile of old gravel. The Shadow found the place they came from, last night."

"But maybe Donald did collect them," argued Margo. "He might have thought they were minerals, too."

"Here's another proof he didn't," said Clyde, pointing to the report. "It says 'Cubic content, ten percent minus.'

That means that when Dunninger added the extra stones to the box, there were too many of them. They filled

Having duly impressed Margo, Clyde acted as though he had told all he knew. Then, as reassurance, Clyde

Roger was pushing a whispering campaign that reached a peak that evening, though Clyde, in viewing the

results, wasn't sure how many of the three confederates were involved. The reason Clyde could not guess,

He'd heard voices in his room, in the kitchen, by the fireside. Wherever he went, voices followed him and

Gustave had even felt the brush of ghostly hands. Most startling of all, Gustave had chased ghostly footsteps

up the back stairs and into the Colonial Room, only to find that whatever the thing was, it had vanished.

These weird occurrences always began when nobody else was around, which proved to Clyde that some of

Roger's playmates were on the job and handling it quite neatly. They were working on Jennifer, too, but only

Nobody had to whisper to Jennifer. She was always hearing voices anyway. But tonight she reported that she

had seen the ghost in the watchtower, while she was visiting Donald's grave. It had waved to her and she

"Death will visit this house again," assured Jennifer, in a confident croak that made Gustave writhe. "Not

It was Roger who finally managed to soothe Gustave, by going around the house with him, to learn if weird

things really could be heard. This time, Clyde and Margo were invited along, and nothing happened. Roger

had naturally postponed the excursion until his helpers had left the premises and gone back to Wiggam's.

The tour convinced Gustave that the ghosts were seeking him alone, thus adding to his feverish fears.

So Roger suggested that Gustave sleep in the great hall, promising to stay there also. As before, Roger was

working the game by steps, knowing it would be the best way to alibi himself when Gustave really cracked.

NEXT morning, though Clyde had no story for the Classic, he read one that interested him. The current wave

of embezzlement was still on the go. The cashier of a Midwestern insurance company had decamped with

The man's name was Ralph Putney and his long, thin face poked its picture from the front page. Putney had

narrow eyes, broad nose and rounded chin. His eyebrows were almost straight as was the line of the hair that

topped his forehead. Under the photo was the caption: "Watch For This Man," followed by the statement that

Embezzlers didn't interest Gustave. He was worried about ghosts. That afternoon Gustave went to see Dr.

Torrance. In one mad outpour, Gustave released his tide of fear. Stanbridge Manor was haunted; Gustave was

Though Wiggam had never acquainted Gustave with the most important of the family secrets, the present

master of the manor was wellinformed on family history. He blurted facts that even Torrance had never

heard: how insanity, catalepsy and other hideous ailments had been the misfortune of the Stanbridges.

"If I dropped dead this minute," insisted Gustave, "you couldn't be sure of it, doctor. Not for a week or a

month. I might be in a trance, like... like, well, like my grandfather was, the first time they thought he died.

"I might go crazy, and still you wouldn't know it, not for a year or more. When you found it out, I'd probably

be well again. But when insanity strikes us permanently, our minds go a complete blank. It was that way with

While he listened, Dr. Torrance kept jotting notes on a pad. Finally he questioned:

"Because the place belongs to me!" blurted Gustave. "It's my heritage, that house! I'll stay there, just to defy

"And Roger?" queried Torrance, puzzled by Gustave's sudden pause. "Surely, he has never disputed your

"I don't mean any of those," he declared. "I mean the ghosts. They're helping Jennifer. She sees them."

"This streak of insanity you mention. Perhaps it applies to Jennifer. Have you thought of that, Gustave?"

"Yes, but it works in reverse, as I told you. When Jennifer acts insane, I know she isn't. It's the safety valve of

our family, such eccentric behavior. Perhaps if I let myself loose, it might help me."

At the question, Gustave drew himself erect. His haggard expression dwindled. Staring about the coroner's

"I shall! One more night in Stanbridge Manor will be the end of the ghosts" there Gustave paused and with

Clapping Gustave on the shoulder, Torrance steered him from the office. As family physician, he advised

Gustave to visit him again the next day and report how he felt. But as soon as Gustave was gone, Torrance

reverted to his business of being county coroner. He picked up the phone and made a brief call.

While he waited, Torrance studied a letter that he had received that morning. He was still reading it over

"That night on Lookout Rock," said Torrance. "Do you two still believe that you struggled with someone who

Herb and Luke looked at each other; slowly, but cagily they began to nod. Torrance smiled.

"There was someone," said the coroner. "I have just received a letter from him. He says that Zeph's death was

murder and that he can name the guilty persons. He intends to trap them at the manor tonight."

Torrance's two listeners showed doubt. They were inclined to blame Zeph's death on the cloaked phantasm

"We'll need more men," declared Torrance, "and we'll all keep in the offing, unless I personally decide to

enter the manor. If I do, the rest will still keep back until summoned. They will stay in pairs, so that no one

LIKE Torrance, Clyde Burke had also heard from The Shadow, but Clyde's letter was coded because of the

important information that it contained. It came in an envelope with the name of the New York Classic in the

The inked writing faded after Clyde read it, but he remembered the full instructions and passed some along to

Margo. Tonight, Clyde informed, The Shadow was going to end the ghost racket. Clyde was to stay with the

family, in the great hall, but Margo was to go to the Green Room on the pretext that she had typing to do.

"You're to watch the door of the Colonial Room," added Clyde. "That's where the ghosts come and go. Never

mind how. Just keep check on them and record the time as well as everything else. The Shadow will disclose

Margo smiled as she nodded. The Shadow knew that curiosity always increased Margo's efficiency and the

girl herself realized the fact. In fact, never before had her interest been so keyed as it was regarding this ghost

How far Margo's curiosity would carry her and what it might produce, were matters far from her mind as she

SEATED at his kitchen table, old Wiggam embraced the crock of applejack and smiled. Not that Wiggam

had been imbibing the liquid lightning; he reserved it only for his guests. At present, he was keeping the

Wiggam was smiling because he was watching Dorthan. The man who combined murder with embezzlement

was displaying another of his talents. Dorthan was making up in front of a mirror; for his pattern, he was

"I used to be a character actor," bragged Dorthan. "Under another name, of course. Impersonations were one

of my specialties. It came in handy when I grabbed the bank dough. What I did was make up as Goodwin. I

"I let people spot me when I left the place. That made Goodwin the last man out. It not only gave me an alibi,

it started the theory that Goodwin knocked me off to boot. Afterward I switched to the old man character, a

A few more dabs and Dorthan's makeup was finished. He turned around and let the others compare him

with the portrait. Crispin and Freer were amazed at the resemblance, but they looked to Wiggam for the final

There was an excellent reason why Roger would be pleased. Dorthan's new face had the aristocratic

Stanbridge nose and wide eyes. An elderly countenance, like Gustave's, but without the haggard effect.

Shocky hair, like Roger's, but very gray, the result of powder that Dorthan had applied.

It was the face of Donald Stanbridge, eldest of the three brothers, whose death Gustave pretended to mourn

"Give me a few pointers, Wiggam," suggested Dorthan. "What did Donald do with this face of his?"

"He used to stare very hard, sir," recalled Wiggam. "So much that it would begin to worry you. Then he'd

smile and it would relieve you, except that he put a little twitch to one corner of his mouth."

Dorthan copied the actions until they won Wiggam's approval. Having gotten them pat, he kept practicing

them until Wiggam gave way to enthused admiration. According to Wiggam, he would personally be

"That's going to knock Gustave right out of the saddle," affirmed Crispin. "He'll think you're Donald's ghost

"And old Jennifer will play it to the limit," added Freer. "She won't have to do any imagining tonight."

"You might let him glimpse you," suggested Wiggam. "Of course, Mr. Roger and I will see you, too, but

we'll stare right through you. There will be no trouble from Mr. Gustave. He has reached the state where the

Wiggam arose and picked up his coat and hat. It was after dusk, the time that he was to go to the manor to

"Mr. Roger says the tower ghost is important," declared Wiggam, handing a package to Crispin. "So you are

"You must go along, too, sir," Wiggam told Freer. "Watch from the mausoleum and if you see anything

suspicious, hurry to the house and come in by the secret way. You will have only to warn one of us. He will

"But remember," added Wiggam, "the floor of the mausoleum must stay open, so do not leave it long. We are

With that reminder, Wiggam unlocked the double door of his cottage and went out into the dark.

As Wiggam left, the others heard the wail of a locomotive whistle, announcing that the evening local was

"It's Putney!" exclaimed Crispin, when Wiggam had gone. "He's taking a risk, coming here by train!"

"I didn't," retorted Dorthan. "Maybe Putney is smart, too. Let's all be smart and sample this new crock of

HAVING left Willow Glen, the local went on to Coledale. It was pulling out from that station before

Wiggam reached the mansion. Still more minutes passed, before a sleek car purred up the hill road. Though it

had only parking lights, its driver guided it partly by dim moonlight, partly by memory, into the old forgotten

Leaving his car, the mystery driver glided away, so ghostlike that he could represent but one living being:

Off through the dark, The Shadow spied tiny twinkles, which were both good and bad. Good, because they

meant that Torrance's men were keeping well away from the mansion; bad, because they shouldn't be using

For one thing, though, they weren't in back of the cemetery. Even Herb and Luke were still doubtful about

Invisibly, The Shadow traced a course to the very shelter of the mansion. He stopped at the rear of the right

wing and there began an upward journey. Tonight, The Shadow had no desire to use the secret route. He was

leaving it to the men he planned to trap. The Shadow was choosing his own mode of entry into Stanbridge

Manor, the house of many windows, all barred. He was picking the one inlet that everyone had overlooked,

No longer were the doors to the tower locked; the investigation at Stanbridge Manor was over. Thus the

tower offered access to the house itself, and more. The Shadow happened to know that the tower, too,

connected with the hidden passages within the manor. From the tower, The Shadow could control all.

Using special suction cups, The Shadow reached the porch above the music room. Diverting his course, he

again applied the rubber suckers to the shingled wall and reached the top of the second floor, to continue up

the sheer wall of the tower itself. The only sounds the disks gave were soft squidges, heard by The Shadow

Nevertheless, the cloaked climber halted. Keeping a fourpoint grip on the wall, thanks to the suction cups

Two figures were stealing from the mausoleum. They represented Dorthan and Crispin, though The Shadow

identified them only as two of the three embezzlers. Reaching the side of the mansion, they disappeared, in

He could tell by the sounds he heard that one ghost was stopping off at Colonial Room. That man happened

to be Dorthan, alias Donald, specially geared to appear as a person back from the dead. The other, namely

Crispin, was climbing up inside the wall where The Shadow clung outside, to play the tower ghost.

Again, The Shadow looked below. He saw another man move from the mausoleum, hesitate, and continue to

the house. It was Freer, and from the fellow's actions, The Shadow knew that he had spotted some of the

longrange twinkles that Torrance's men were unwisely giving with their flashlights.

Almost at the house, Freer halted and looked straight upward. Against the straggly moonlight, he saw the

outline of The Shadow's clinging form, but it was gone too soon for Freer to identify it as anything actual.

The Shadow went from sight by the simple expedient of shifting his body around the corner of the tower.

A warning from Freer would spoil the entire show, but The Shadow felt sure the fellow would withhold it.

Lights were too distant, The Shadow's shape too vague, for Freer to sound a real alarm. Besides, he was too

late to overtake the others. Probably he'd wait for them in the secret passage between the parlor and the music

THERE was just one feature of the situation that The Shadow did not recognize. It was the Donald angle.

What tricks the ghosts intended, was an unimportant phase, according to The Shadow's analysis. He knew the

crooks were here to terrorize Gustave, but violence was the one thing they would most avoid.

It would be The Shadow's business to supply it when the time came, but in a swift, certain way. The right

course was to overpower these fakes one by one, beginning with the tower ghost, so that the law could find

It was Margo Lane who first saw the longforgotten face. She was watching through a perfect peek hole, a

slit that Clyde Burke had obligingly cut through the thin backing of the Green Room door. Already damaged

by Gustave's shotgun, the door had enough chinks to camouflage the one that Clyde had widened.

Familiar with the pictures of the three embezzlers, Margo was sure she could identify any of them. But the

The manor contained several pictures of its former master. At sight of Donald's unique face, Margo felt

positive that here was a ghost, at last. Too transfixed to move, she kept watching and her dread suddenly

Donald's actions were too human. He kept peering into rooms along the passage, as though expecting to find

someone. Finally he turned and came toward Margo's door. Shrinking away, Margo decided to hide beyond

the bed, on the chance that the man would only glance into the Green Room. Then Donald's footsteps paused.

Looking again, Margo saw that the passage was empty. She thought at first that Donald had gone down the

back stairs. Then suddenly he reappeared from the door of the Colonial Room. Why he had gone back there,

Margo couldn't understand, but ghost or human, he had certainly picked up confidence. His eyes no longer

This time Donald stole directly to the back stairs and began a slow descent. Seized with the spirit of

emergency, Margo felt she ought to inform Clyde of the trick that was being played. All it would take, would

Opening her own door, Margo stepped out into the passage. She was scrawling some notations on a pad she

carried, and feeling very bold in her capacity as a legitimate guest, Margo went a few steps farther and peered

Until now, Margo had been much in the dark, regarding the secret of Stanbridge Manor. All that was over, for

Mentally, Margo Lane was no longer in the dark. Physically, she was going deep into it, much faster than

THE thing that caught Margo's attention was the closet in the Colonial Room. Its door was open and so was

the ceiling of the closet. Hanging down from that ceiling was a broad, hinged board, crossed with cleats that

Entering the closet, Margo looked upward. Instead of a shallow space above the hanging ceiling, she saw a

vertical shaft, also equipped with ladder rungs. At the top, a trapdoor was closing; in fact, Margo could hear it

Even when the trapdoor was closed, Margo could see enough to tell her more. Just above the open ceiling of

the closet, a narrow chute went down at an angle, beneath the tower stairs. It meant that those stairs were

double, the space beneath them leading down to the secret passage on the ground floor, between the parlor

Despite her fascination, Margo couldn't resist sketching the arrangement, which she did quite swiftly,

intending to add it to her notes, to show Lamont that she could find out things on her own.

Studying the rough drawing, Margo realized that the ground floor passage must run at right angles to the

slanted hole that came up beneath the tower stairs, so she added a little drawing to cover that point.

During the process, Margo was thinking about the crooks. Obviously one, impersonating Donald, had

dropped down into the Colonial Room and was going down through the kitchen, to sneak around and frighten

Another had gone up into the tower, a fact proven by the closing trapdoor. He would use the ladder that went

up from the landing at the stair top and put on something white to pass as the tower ghost.

Where the third man was, Margo didn't care. Even if he happened to be lurking in the secret passage below,

he could do no harm there. At least, so Margo supposed, as she finished her added sketch.

All Margo wanted was a look down into the chute that ran beneath the tower stairs. To gain that look, she put

the notebook in the pocket of her dress and placed her foot upon the lowest cleat of the hanging ceiling,

The ceiling was automatic, geared with huge springs that Margo hadn't noticed. It flew up like a springboard,

carrying Margo with it. Her attempt to drop away was so slow that it didn't even start until the ceiling clacked

shut. Then, since she was lying flat, her wild wiggle started Margo right down the chute beneath the stairs.

The chute had no cleats. Evidently the ghosts worked up and down it by squeezing against the side walls, but

Margo didn't have time to figure that one out. She was still clawing at the sliding board when she reached the

hole above the secret room. There she dropped through, grabbing at the rungs of a ladder that slightly broke

However, the jolt was enough to stun Margo quite thoroughly. This time, her senses, like herself, were

completely in the dark. Lying limp, Margo didn't see the flashlight that sprayed across her face, nor hear the

angry snarl that came from Freer. Starting up the ladder, the reserve ghost was on his way to summon

DOWN in the great hall, Gustave was brooding by the fire, while Jennifer kept watching him across the

planchette, which she was guiding with her fingers. Outside, the wind was whistling, bringing thumps from

shutters, sounds that drowned the muffled finish of Margo's plunge into the secret room.

"The train stopped again tonight, Gustave," spoke Jennifer, solemnly. "Perhaps it is bringing Donald."

"Ghosts don't ride on trains," retorted Gustave savagely. "What things you do think up, Jennifer!"

"So at last you admit there are ghosts," she toned. "With your new wisdom, you think you can speak for their

The planchette was beginning to scrawl. Jennifer gave an eager glance at the wheeled pencil table. From his

corner, Clyde saw Roger and Wiggam exchange the slightest of nods. The time was ripe for their great hoax.

Stepping over to Clyde, Roger drew him to the front door and started to open it.

"Take a look for Torrance's car, Burke," suggested Roger. "Doc said he might drop in later. I'd rather you

brought him in quietly so he can see how Jennifer is baiting poor Gustave. I hope he comes soon, though. I'm

Something ghostly was due, though just what, Clyde didn't know. He decided the best thing was to play

dumb, rather than spoil it. Once outside, he could look through a window and witness the thing that he wasn't

supposed to see. But before Clyde could open the front door, the thing happened.

Though Dorthan's cue was to come from Wiggam, apparently the impersonator decided to jump it. Except for

Clyde's presence, the deed was justified, for Jennifer was unwittingly giving a better cue than any that Roger

"Read this message, Gustave!" exclaimed Jennifer, ripping the paper from beneath the planchette and waving

it at her brother. "It says: 'I am with you.' Only Donald's spirit could have given us that message. He is with

As she finished, Jennifer was staring at Gustave's frozen face. His eyes were fixed beyond her shoulder, so

How Dorthan was to act at this dramatic juncture, was something that Roger had left to the impersonator,

though Dorthan had been coached on some family facts that he could spiel at Gustave by way of convincers.

But the best they expected from Dorthan was small compared to the delivery that came.

"Hello, Gussie," spoke the ghost. "This all looks very cheerful, so much like the night I died. You don't look

"I am not surprised," put in Jennifer. "I have seen you often, Donald. You have been here all the time."

"In spirit, yes," agreed Donald, placing his hand upon Jennifer's shoulder. "But not as I am at present. My

mind was here, I suppose, because it was not with me. But when it returned, I came back. The Stanbridges

"Take Roger for instance." The ghost's lips twitched a characteristic smile, as he gestured a hand toward the

youngest Stanbridge. "He is staring as though he can't believe I'm here. Why should he believe it, Gussie,

Roger shot a quick look at Wiggam, who was stepping forward as thought to meet the ghost. Wiggam's fault,

this, coaching Dorthan so well that he was playing the game too strongly. Not that Roger minded Dorthan

using the nickname Gussie which Gustave hadn't heard since boyhood, nor even the business of a hand on

What bothered Roger was the reference to himself, along with Wiggam's mistake of seeing the ghost. Both

Roger and Wiggam were supposed to stare right through the imitation Donald, so later they could declare

they hadn't seen him. It wouldn't have mattered so much, with only Gustave and Jennifer present, since both

were looking straight at Donald, and noticing no one else. But Clyde's presence made the situation untenable.

IT would take some convincing to make the reporter think he hadn't seen anything, and to make matters even

worse, the front door swept open at that trying moment, to admit Dr. Torrance, arriving far earlier than Roger

Two witnesses to declare the ghost was real! Men whose testimony would nullify the whole act.

In that dilemma, Roger showed how he could use the wits that rated him a top man among criminals.

Deeming that Clyde and Torrance were sold on the idea that fraud existed in the manor itself, Roger played a

"It's only Hector!" shouted Roger. "Grab him, Wiggam, so we can prove the fakery this time!"

Rising to the situation, Wiggam made a quick halt and looked toward the front door. Seeing Clyde and

Torrance, Wiggam turned as though to obey Roger's command. Of course all that hesitation was a perfect

All this time, Gustave had been proving that Stanbridges thrived on the unexpected. Though he had been

speechless while listening to the ghost, Gustave had not shrunk from sight of his dead brother Donald. Now

Gustave was on his feet, charging for the grayhaired man who faced him. As he drove forward, Gustave

"You're not Hector! They can't fool me with this trick. You're trying to make me confess to a murder that

By then, Gustave had reached the man who passed as Donald. They locked in a struggle wherein Gustave

showed the murderous fury that he had only a moment ago denied. Jennifer shrieked real fears for Donald, as

Gustave reeled him back against the wall. There, in a corner near the dining room, they encountered the

loaded shotgun and Gustave snatched it as Donald madly squirmed for the doorway.

Roused by the emergency, Wiggam dashed after them, his figure disappearing in the gable beyond the door.

There was a crash as the dining room table overturned under the force of spilling bodies. The shotgun spoke

Roger was rushing for the dining room with Clyde and Torrance behind him. On the way, Roger purposely

blundered into Jennifer, tumbling with her, so that the doorway was blocked. Coming to his feet, Roger thrust

Jennifer aside, and turned the other way. Drawing a revolver as he rushed for the front stairs, Roger called

In the darkened dining room, a man was crawling out from beneath the overturned table. It was Wiggam;

during his crawl, he encountered something that he picked up, stared at dumbly, and then handed to Dr.

There was another figure lying under the table, beside it a shotgun. As Wiggam removed himself from the

light, Clyde and Torrance saw the dead face of Gustave, staring upward. Below that face was a shirt front

stained with blood. The shots from the revolver that Wiggam found, had been planted squarely in Gustave's

As for the man who looked like Donald, he had disappeared so completely that Torrance, staring at Gustave's

body, could almost have sworn that Gustave Stanbridge had been slain by a murderous ghost!

AT the head of the stairs, Roger ran squarely into Dorthan, coming up from the kitchen. He was steering the

stooge into the Colonial Room, when Dorthan suddenly pointed. Horror showed on the face that was made up

Footsteps were pounding from below, some from the kitchen, others by the front stairs. There wasn't time to

Roger saw Wiggam arriving from the kitchen. Others hadn't quite gained the top of the front stairs.

Motioning Wiggam aside, Roger chased Dorthan down the back way, hissing for him to grab one of Hector's

Hardly had Dorthan gone, before Clyde arrived. He'd taken the front way in order to catch Roger. Spreading

his hands in bewildered fashion, Roger looked about, as though amazed. Then, sighting someone coming

It was Hector, coming from his room, where he had been sleeping when the gunfire awakened him. His

bewildered look, plus the fact that his face was his own, were absolute proofs of his innocence. Hector stared,

even more puzzled, as a whistle shrilled from below. It was Torrance at the front door, summoning men.

Hurrying up the front stairs, Torrance heard Clyde call down that the ghost wasn't Hector. As if to belie

Clyde's shout, a figure scudded through the great hall and out the front door. It was Dorthan, dashing around

by the dining room, but all Clyde saw of him was the back of his borrowed white coat.

Roger saw the fugitive, too, from the top of the stairs. Torrance didn't turn in time. Roger had another bright

As Torrance hesitated, some of his men appeared at the front door. Torrance yelled for them to round up

anyone they saw and to particularly watch the tower. With that double order, he started up the tower stairs

behind Roger, while Clyde hurried down to the front door to stimulate the real chase outdoors.

AGAIN, Roger was playing a bold hand. He knew that Crispin was in the tower, but he was sure he could

handle Torrance well enough to allow the escape of the second ghost. What Roger didn't know was that at

Nicely rigged in a white sheet, Crispin was weaving about the tower, waiting for someone to come from the

house and spy him. He particularly hoped that Jennifer would be the observer, because he was doing a very

Up the side of the tower was coming a shape in black that looked like a mammoth vampire bat. The sounds

that accompanied this thing from the unreal, merely made it all the more uncanny. The noises were The

Shadow's suction cups, but Crispin, hearing them, mistook them for floor creaks from the weatherbeaten

One squidge ceased; then another. Over the rail of the tower, behind the fake ghost's back, came the cloaked

shape of The Shadow. Reaching to his feet, The Shadow stacked the last two suction cups with the others,

placing them beneath his cloak. His gloves stayed there, too. In their place, The Shadow produced a small tin

All this was happening during the chase that followed the death of Gustave. Such trifling things as gunfire

were too well muffled in the great sprawly mansion to be heard from so remote a spot as the old watchtower.

Having applied two pastes to his thumb and forefinger, The Shadow delivered a low laugh that was caught by

the tower's broken rafters and echoed back in ghoulish style. That weird tone might have impressed a real

The shrouded man wheeled about. He saw the burning eyes of The Shadow. With a shrill, wild cry, Crispin

A burst like a reporting gun went off in Crispin's face, along with a flare of flame. Those special chemicals

had served The Shadow often, but never more dramatically than this. (Because of the danger connected with

this explosive formula, we do not give its components here. It is a device often used by The Shadow in his

exploits against crime. Ed.) The concussion scattered what was left of Crispin's dissipated wits. The man

Then The Shadow was upon him, about to complete as rapid a capture as could be desired. With Crispin

settled, the way would be clear to bag the others of this crooked clan. At least it would have worked that way,

Flashlights shone suddenly from all about the house. Torrance's men had heard the shout from upstairs. They

were converging upon Dorthan, but they hadn't forgotten that they were to check the tower, too. Somebody

Curious ghosts, one white, the other black, that tangled in a grip that formed a swirling camouflage pattern.

The Shadow was taking Crispin well in hand, despite the crook's last desperate struggle. But the men on the

Torrance's tribe let loose with a volley from guns of all description. Bullets battered the base of the tower and

raked its pergola top. Slugs whistled over The Shadow's head and shoulders as he flung Crispin to the floor

THE brief release wouldn't have helped Crispin if he'd been purely on his own. He was still dizzy from the

chemical blast that had drawn so much attention to the tower. To Crispin, the rattle of the guns was just an

echo of the explosion that had bewildered him. But to Freer, it meant new trouble, and Freer was here. He'd

finished his climb up into the tower to warn Crispin of something that seemed very slight in comparison to

One of Crispin's legs was dangling down the ladder. Grabbing it, Freer hauled Crispin right out of his sheet.

Together, they were tumbling down the ladder, leaving The Shadow nothing but a shroud so empty that

Crispin seemed to have really turned into a ghost. With bullets still whining through the openwork, The

The trap door was thudding in place before The Shadow reached the landing. A few seconds more and The

Shadow would have wrenched it open, to follow the two ghosts down the chute to the secret room. But at that

moment, the regular door of the tower slashed inward, admitting a three man surge.

It was a neat device, that door. Opening inward, it was stopped by the warped floor boards; Actually the floor

was a trapdoor that hoisted upward, hence the door, when open, served as a lock to keep the trap shut. The

landing was so small that people always left the door open when they examined the floor, and thereby

In this case, the door prevented The Shadow from following the two fake ghosts. Before he could slam the

door shut, the landing was crowded to its utmost capacity. The Shadow was squeezed among three men:

If Roger and Wiggam had found a white one, they'd have let him go, and muddled Torrance into the bargain.

But a black one meant The Shadow and Roger was prompt to draw a gun. So was Torrance, who regarded

any intruder as Gustave's murderer. So The Shadow's only course was to rip loose from his captors and

He did it with such speed that when they began to fire at blackness down the stairs, they learned it was

nothing but the slamming door below. Angry at the escape of the very material ghost, Torrance ordered an

REACHING the front stairs, The Shadow heard a pleased cackle from his right and saw old Jennifer at the

door of her room. She was holding her arms folded as though standing guard and seemed very pleased

because the searchers had discovered a real ghost in the tower. At the front door, The Shadow met a rush of

All was quiet around the corner of the house. There, Crispin and Freer were coming from the hinged shingles,

carrying Margo between them. Another man sprang up to aid them; it was Dorthan, still wearing Donald's

The three sped for the mausoleum and were nearly there with their burden, when The Shadow came around

the corner of the house, followed by waving flashlights and wild shooting guns. He saw the fugitives near the

mausoleum, but was unable to overtake them, because another batch of local fighters were dashing in to trap

Only when strong flashlights actually struck The Shadow, was he visible; then, only as a blot of weaving

blackness that blocked off other objects beyond. So blurred was the situation that when Clyde called: "There

he goes!" he actually pointed in the right direction. Clyde's effort to help his chief resulted in flashlights

picking up another whirl of black, but the hazy shape was gone when guns tongued its way.

Even though he'd seen Margo being carried by her captors, The Shadow had veered away from the

mausoleum where the group had disappeared. His first task was to shake these ardent pursuers, summoned

The Shadow dropped them, halfway to the sunken road where he had parked his car. By then they were

spreading out, scouring the fringes of the cemetery for the cloaked ghost that they had followed when taking

To men of crime, The Shadow's difficulties were regarded as a boon. While flashlights were moving along

the fence that marked the new limit of the Stanbridge estate, all was quiet and dark in the midst of the old

graveyard. It was then that a figure sidled in from the trees and entered the mausoleum.

The dull clatter of hasty footsteps brought results. The floor slid back suddenly and a beckoning hand called

the arrival down the hidden steps. In the dimlighted tunnel, Dorthan was waiting, his face still that of

Dorthan, however, was more interested in the arrival's features. He turned a flashlight on them, gave a grunt

of satisfaction, and extended a welcoming hand. The man who had ducked in from the dark was the expected

embezzler, Ralph Putney. The Cleveland gyp was carrying a satchel loaded with his loot.

Admiringly, Putney watched Dorthan pull a large lever that caused the great stone floor to slide back into

place on its special, welloiled rollers. The click that sounded when the floor closed, brought a chuckle from

With that formidable barrier bolted from the inside, no one, not even The Shadow, could hope to reach the

IT was half an hour before Roger Stanbridge arrived in the formidable hideout where three exghosts were

toasting their new comrade. This time, Roger didn't come by way of the tunnel, because it was closed. He

came with Wiggam, through the front door of the cottage. An excellent procedure, because it passed

Indeed, Roger had a special right to accompany, Wiggam home. Rating as the new master of Stanbridge

Manor, it was only natural that Roger should hold a conference with the faithful caretaker.

Roger was pleased to see Putney present. The man's long face, with its broad nose and narrow eyes, was the

first that Roger noticed. Having been introduced to the visiting embezzler, Roger turned to look for Dorthan

and saw him. Dorthan was himself again, having removed the last vestiges of Donald's makeup.

"What else could I have done?" demanded Dorthan. "As soon as that shotgun went off, I had to lam for the

"What chance did I have to cut loose with that gat?" queried Roger, angrily. "I was out in the big hall."

"And I was in the kitchen!" retorted Dorthan. "Ask Wiggam who knocked off your brother."

"I really couldn't say, sir," insisted Wiggam. "I was thrust under the table during the melee. I saw very little

"You mean you're saying very little," broke in Dorthan. "Naturally you'd stand up for your boss; don't blame

you, Wiggam. For that matter" Dorthan gave a generous shrug "I don't blame you either, Roger. If you

tried to lay it on Crispin or Freer, I wouldn't like it, but it doesn't matter with me. I knocked off a bank

"Nice of you," said Roger, curtly, "but I'm quite willing to take the Gustave burden on myself. I would have

disposed of him long ago, if there hadn't been a more sensible way. After going to all that ghost nuisance, it

"Anyway, they'll still think a ghost did it. Donald is dead, so how are they ever going to find the murderer?

We'll stick to our story, Wiggam and I. We'll say it was Donald and we'll have Jennifer and Torrance to back

us up. After I take over the manor, which I can do tomorrow, nobody will come within ten miles of the place.

Crispin and Freer exchanged anxious glances. Neither wanted to break the news to Roger, so Dorthan did it

"The girl got hep," said Dorthan. "She's the person who locked me out of the ceiling. The gaff gave her a ride

"So that's what was eating Burke!" exclaimed Roger. "He was looking all around for somebody. When he

"A woman hunt," corrected Dorthan, coolly, "and we might as well let them find her. Over the edge of that

big cliff would be a good spot. They'd think she went haywire and ran when the ghosts began to walk."

"An Indian princess jumped off there once," recalled Roger. "It sounds good enough for this sweetie. Where

"In a room upstairs," said Crispin. "Bound and gagged so tight she won't get loose no matter how hard she

Roger leaned back in his chair. He was grinning shrewdly as he poured himself a drink.

"Relax while I think it over," he decided. "Lookout Rock is a good idea, if those yaps don't search there first.

MARGO was doing some hoping of her own, as she struggled with the bonds in the room upstairs. Crispin

and Freer must have read the latest encyclopedia of knots and splices, because the harder Margo worked, the

tighter the cords became. What irked her most was the fact that the ropes weren't heavy. It was just that they

As the cords tightened, Margo kept hoping that one would break. If that happened, the rest might yield in

turn. Margo had more strength than her captors supposed, still it wasn't enough. But she knew quite definitely

that this was one mess from which they couldn't afford to release her, so she continued her strenuous struggle,

Something gave suddenly, with a twang. At first Margo thought it was her heart, then as its beating

continued, she was thrilled by the thought that a cord had really broken. Again she writhed among the bonds

Straining harder than ever, Margo was rewarded by the breaking of further ropes, until she felt like a

Christmas package being opened in a hurry. Somehow the thing was fantastic, as though an invisible hand

Completely free, Margo couldn't believe it. Cords actually seemed to haul her back as she staggered to her

feet. She was slumping, when blackness caught her; solid blackness that spoke in a whispered tone.

"Move quietly," the voice commanded. "The tunnel is across the cellar. When you reach the end, pull the big

lever. Leave the floor of the mausoleum open and find Burke. Tell him to bring others here through the

Margo felt herself almost floating from the room and down the stairs. Blackness still seemed to smother her,

and from its midst she could feel the grip of The Shadow's powerful hands. Somehow it all seemed very

much a dream, particularly when Margo heard voices in the kitchen. She was actually in the room with her

captors, being convoyed the few steps from a doorway to the cellar stairs. Surely they must notice the living

Solid steps were under Margo's feet and Margo tiptoed down them. At the bottom, Margo looked back and

saw complete blackness at the door above. This still might be a dream, but if it wasn't, that blackness was The

Shadow, using his cloaked form to muffle Margo's footfalls as well as mask her departure!

AT the kitchen table, Roger was laying out his plan. Over in the corner, Dorthan was tuning in a radio,

keeping its tone low. Like the others present, Dorthan listened when Roger spoke.

"I'll go scouting with Wiggam," said Roger. "When the way is clear, we'll tap on the floor of the mausoleum.

Bring the girl out and if there's any trouble, stick tight. We'll blind people with flashlights; we'll even fire

Wiggam shook his head. Dorthan pulled a gun from his pocket and tossed it to the caretaker. He gestured to

"Get a load of this news report," said Dorthan. "It's got something to do with Putney."

"He went up to his room," replied Wiggam. "He said he was going to count the money and bring it down

"Flash!" announced the broadcaster. "Cleveland police have just discovered Ralph Putney, missing

embezzler, bound and gagged in a hotel room. Whoever captured him overlooked the stolen money, which

As Dorthan snapped off the radio, the others came to their feet. With one accord, they swung toward the

cellar stairs, their full attention drawn by a sinister laugh that came from that direction. Staring in amazement,

these ghost fakers saw something that really came up to the manifestations they had tried to imitate.

Blackness solidified itself with a swirl, into a cloaked form with burning eyes beneath the brim of a slouch

hat. Beneath those eyes loomed two cold spots, the muzzles of automatics. A huge .45 in each gloved fist,

The Shadow stepped across the room, pivoting from his gun muzzles, which stayed constantly trained on the

clustered crooks, with the exception of Dorthan, who didn't matter, since he had given his revolver to

Again that weird laugh, complete in its accusation. With a slight tilt of his head, The Shadow let the crooks

glimpse his disguised face. He, too, was a master of makeup. His were the features of Ralph Putney.

"All right, Shadow, you win," sneered Roger. "You must have seen my letter and intercepted Putney so the

coppers could take him. I knew it was you that came from the tower. You went after Crispin and now you've

All the while, Roger was edging, as though to reach the front door which The Shadow blocked. His action

"I should have known that Putney wouldn't come in on the train," growled Roger, edging farther. "I guess it

The Shadow's laugh was strange. It seemed to speak of the unfathomable, as though providing a solution. In

fact, Roger's mention of the train was just the link The Shadow needed, toward answering a most amazing

It was Dorthan's answer, too. The Shadow had gone far enough. Barehanded, Dorthan lunged for The

Shadow's guns. The others, like deserting rats, turned the other direction, toward the cellar stairs, exactly

where The Shadow wanted them to go, knowing that by this time Margo must have brought Clyde and an

It wasn't The Shadow's laugh, though that mirth broke with new crescendo. Actually, The Shadow's tone was

On the threshold stood another man with a leveled gun; behind him an old lady who cackled merrily.

"Yes, Roger, I've come back," announced Donald, in a crisp tone. "I came back to claim my heritage from

Gustave, to learn that you were trying to usurp it in my stead. You see, Roger, I never was dead. Instead, my

"Gustave knew the family symptoms. It was the first step to a trance condition. When that struck, Gustave

was quick to have me pronounced dead, and summon specialists later. He had a corpse ready for burial in my

"Through these years," she croaked, "Gustave has been living in mortal fear that Donald would regain his

mind and come back. All the while something told me that Donald was not really dead. Tonight, Donald did

return, and I knew the truth the moment that I saw him. When Gustave tried to kill him, he fled to my room. I

Again, The Shadow laughed. He had analyzed Gustave's ways far further than had Jennifer. Tonight, the

dispute between Roger and Dorthan had made it plain that another man must have figured Roger's mention of

Roger wheeled at The Shadow's laugh, to see the cloaked fighter holding Dorthan in a pretzel twist. The

Shadow had been ready all along for that barehanded lunge. Yet Dorthan, with his backtwisted arms, was

forcing The Shadow's guns far out of aim. Roger shot a quick look at Crispin and Freer.

With a fling, The Shadow sent Dorthan clear across the room, carrying the kitchen table with him. Hitting

headon, Dorthan landed senseless. So did Crispin and Freer, before they had their guns half drawn. The

This wasn't helping Donald. Slow with a gun, the eldest brother was falling away from Roger's charge. With

a swing that avoided Donald's aim, Roger drove in from one side, with Wiggam from the other. There was a

Another gun spoke first. Jolting, Roger twisted toward the wall, to see Wiggam facing him, with smoke

curling from the gun that Dorthan had loaned him. As Roger sagged, Wiggam spoke slowly, sadly.

"I killed Mr. Gustave, there in the dining room," said Wiggam. "I, too, recognized Mr. Donald and I could not

allow him to be harmed any more than I could now. You are no longer my master, Mr. Roger, now that your

brother has returned. I aided your wrong deeds only because I acknowledged you as the real head of the

Roger's hand interrupted with a convulsive upward thrust which carried to its trigger finger. Neither The

Shadow, free of his adversaries, nor Donald, springing from the other side, could reach Roger in time to stop

the gun stab. With the effort, Roger slumped dead, while Wiggam, straight in the path of the gun's last aim,

It was a mortal wound, as Wiggam's wince declared. Nevertheless, the caretaker forced his lips into a smile.

"Do you remember my nephew, Mr. Donald? He's a true Wiggam... like the rest of us. He'll serve you... the

Men were coming from the cellar stairs, with Clyde Burke in the lead. Dr. Torrance suddenly pushed past, to

reach Wiggam. Seeing the coroner, Wiggam spoke again, repeating the confession he had made before, and

It was only then that Torrance saw Donald and stared in profound amazement, until through his mind came

recollections of Gustave's comments that very afternoon. As Torrance recalled them, they were veiled

Torrance's men were rounding up the stupefied embezzlers. They stopped and stared at one another as they

caught the tone of a strange, departing laugh. Arrived at the top of the cellar steps, Margo looked beyond the

group and saw that Wiggam's front door was open. It was from that outer darkness that the strange laugh

It was repeated, that triumphant mirth, in a car that coasted down the sunken road. Across his shoulder, The

Shadow looked back at the gaunt, ancient building known as Stanbridge Manor, with its open tower pointing

Stanbridge Manor had regained its rightful master, thanks to The Shadow's conquest over ghostly crime!