HOUSE OF SHADOWS .....................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. KING OF THE ROAD ......................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. SOMEWHERE IN JERSEY ............................................................................................4

CHAPTER III. ALIAS KID PELL ..........................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. THE OLD HOUSE .......................................................................................................10

CHAPTER V. TURK'S TERMS...........................................................................................................14

CHAPTER VI. BLASTED BATTLE ....................................................................................................18

CHAPTER VII. HANDS IN THE GAME............................................................................................21

CHAPTER VIII. THE WAYS OF MR. HEBLER ................................................................................25

CHAPTER IX. CRIME'S NEW RECRUIT..........................................................................................29

CHAPTER X. EYES IN THE DARK...................................................................................................33

CHAPTER XI. VANISHED BATTLERS............................................................................................37

CHAPTER XII. DENRY'S DILEMMA ................................................................................................41

CHAPTER XIII. DENRY'S SUBSTITUTE ..........................................................................................46

CHAPTER XIV. DENRY'S CONFESSION .........................................................................................50

CHAPTER XV. MOVES REVERSED .................................................................................................54

CHAPTER XVI. CRIME'S HOUR.......................................................................................................57

CHAPTER XVII. BELATED STRATEGY ..........................................................................................61

CHAPTER XVIII. DEATHS INTERLUDE.........................................................................................64

CHAPTER XIX. THE WRONG SHADOW .........................................................................................67

CHAPTER XX. WANTED EVIDENCE..............................................................................................70

CHAPTER XXI. PROOF OF CRIME..................................................................................................74

CHAPTER XXII. THE FINAL GUILT................................................................................................77

THE great, sleek motor coach pulled from the ramp leading out of the Manhattan bus terminal and swung

into the glare of avenue lights. It was heading southward, leaving New York after a oneweek stay.

King of the road, the streamlined supercoach had attracted much attention on its arrival in Manhattan. Not

only was it the last word in deluxe highway travel; its gray sides bore the redlettered statement: "Hollywood

Its passengers were movie stars; not topnotchers, but persons with recognized names, good enough to help

swell receipts at theater box offices. They were making personal appearances during their tour of the entire

But New York had become apathetic to the sight of the highway limited and its freight of human stars. No

crowds were on hand to watch the great bus make its departure for Atlantic City. The Hollywood

The reason was Kid Pell, America's new claimant for the title of Public Enemy No. 1. In a mere three days,

Kid Pell had blasted all other news from the front pages, to make room for the accounts of his own exploits.

Glum press agents were explaining the situation to disgruntled movie stars, as the bus rolled toward the

Holland Tunnel. The lack of cheering throngs along the curbs proved that the press agents were telling the

There wasn't a doubt about it; Kid Pell was more than the man of the hour. He was the man of the week.

The Kid had crashed into prominence by raiding a large Manhattan bank, with a mob at his heels. They had

actually gotten to the vault, when someone had let loose a flow of tear gas. The robbers had retreated; but on

While police were trying to round up the murderous mob, Kid Pell had coolly attacked an armored truck

carrying funds to the subtreasury. Again, he had failed to acquire any swag, but one of the truck guards had

The Kid had fled to New Jersey with a depleted mob, only to bob up again when he blew his way into a

suburban bank at three in the morning. He and his mob had souped the vault, but State police had shown up

They had captured two of the mob, but not the Kid himself. He and two companions had escaped in another

car. All traces of them had been lost. From latest reports, he was still at large in New Jersey.

MYSTERY surrounded the notorious Kid Pell. Forgetful of their own disappointments, the movie stars were

engrossed in the subject by the time the bus was through the Holland Tunnel and streaking along the Skyway

They were interested chiefly in what Kid Pell looked like. No newspaper had managed to get a photograph of

him, but artists had made sketches, and faked them to look like photos. Peering from the front pages, those

pictures showed Kid Pell as broadfaced, with straight lips, slitted eyes, and light curly hair.

They had tried to give him the ugly look that befitted a public enemy, yet there was something handsome in

the murderer's features; probably the fact that they were youthful, in deference to the Kid's nickname.

A chuckling press agent ordered a drink at the bar that the deluxe coach boasted. Finishing the drink with a

gulp, he went back to a lounge at the rear, where he joined some movie producers who were talking with a

"Too bad that the cops are after Kid Pell," declared the press agent. "He'd be a good bet for pictures. With all

The producers smiled; one of them made a silencing gesture, then introduced the gentleman who was riding

with them. His name was Lamont Cranston; and the press agent, when he shook hands with him, decided that

His features were the sort that seemed molded for effectiveness. Cranston's face had a hawkish expression

that was masklike. His eyes were calm, but keenness lay in then depths. His thin lips carried the faintest of

Obviously, the producers were trying to induce Cranston to back some new pictures; otherwise, he wouldn't

"Where did Kid Pell come from?" queried a portly producer. "What's he going to do next?"

"He's from somewhere out West," replied the press agent, "and he's supposed to be a pretty foxy gambler.

According to the newspapers, though, he didn't make out well in the joints around New York.

"So he recruited a mob and went into the stickup business. Right there, he made another mistake: he picked

things too tough to handle. He lost about half his mob, and the ones that were captured told what little they

"With all his nerve, Kid Pell has proven himself one hundred percent flop when it comes to cash results. In

technical parlance, the only thing he can do for himself right now is take it on the lam."

THE producers appeared impressed. The press agent looked to Cranston, to see what effect he had made. To

"I do not agree with you," declared Cranston, in an even tone. "Though little is known about Kid Pell, one

fact is certain: he needs money. He will proceed with crime until he obtains it."

"Or gets a bellyful of lead," argued the press agent. "They've got extra guards an every bank in New Jersey. It

"With all his daring," observed Cranston, quietly, "Kid Pell has used intelligence. We may assume, therefore,

"Precisely," interposed Cranston. He reached for the press agent's newspaper. "He will look for some better

Fingering the pages, Cranston folded one back and pointed to a photograph, as he added:

The other men stared. Cranston was pointing to a picture of the bus in which they were riding. With the photo

was a story that made the press agent chew his lips, even though the details were those that he himself had

Along with an exaggerated description of the costly bus, were figures totaling the salaries of the stars who

made up the passenger list. The story stated that the Hollywood travelers were spending great sums in every

town along the route during this goodwill tour. It referred to the bus passengers as a "milliondollar cargo."

Cranston pointed out a paragraph covering the present trip from New York to Atlantic City. It gave the exact

"Kid Pell is quite ingenious," remarked Cranston, casually. "He might decide to stop this highway special and

Uneasiness gripped the few passengers who were listening to Cranston. This bus was termed the "King of the

Road"; they could recall that highwaymen once gave themselves that title. If that thought had occurred to Kid

Their own thoughts were jerked severely as the bus gave a sudden jolt. Thrown forward, the movie producers

The bus was coming to a halt; they wondered why. Forgetting Cranston, they started forward, the press agent

Calmly, Lamont Cranston reached for a brief case that rested beside the seat. He could hear excited voices

demanding why the bus was stopping. The reply came from the driver's seat, that some roadrepair men were

Its speed reduced to fifteen miles an hour, the bus jounced over a stretch of rough road. It veered to the left,

By that time, Cranston's brief case was open. From it, he had drawn a black cloak, which he slipped over his

shoulders. Clamping a slouch hat to his head, he used his other hand to pull the lever of an emergency door.

With a single step, he left the bus, blending instantly with the outside darkness.

Then; invisible against the darkened gray of the big motor coach's canted side, he was moving forward to a

Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. Master of darkness, foe to crime, he had arranged passage on the

luxury bus for the very reasons that he had stated to a group of astonished listeners. The Shadow knew that

The Shadow was anticipating a prompt meeting with Kid Pell, the modern King of the Road!

BEFORE The Shadow could reach the front door of the lengthy motorbus, a flashlight sparkled from the

"It's all right, driver," the speaker assured. "The men are coming up with the lanterns, to show you the detour.

Two red lanterns came around in front of the bus. As they drew close, the man with the flashlight stepped

into the doorway. Only a dozen feet away, The Shadow veered off into the darkness, at the same time

The man who was entering the bus answered the description of Kid Pell; but he was more handsome, less

youthful, than the sketches portrayed him. Below the face of Kid Pell, The Shadow saw the collar and jacket

A sharp challenge told that the bus driver had noticed the discrepancy. By then, it was too late. Kid Pell was

The red lanterns had dropped; shouldering in behind Kid Pell were two roughclad men whose thuggish

Moved to a position right behind them, The Shadow could see into the bus. Kid Pell was facing the

passengers; his face had a genial smile, as he waggled his revolver in the general direction of astounded

"Only cash accepted," informed the Kid. "The gentlemen will kindly keep their arms raised; ladies can roll

down their stockings. My assistants will keep you covered, while I gather the wallets and bank rolls.

"Careful, boys" Kid Pell was pocketing his own gun, as he turned to the two mobsters "with those hair

triggers. Some of these hams are insured for a lot more than they're worth, so why should we do them a favor

Kid Pell wasn't expecting intervention from outside the bus, nor did he include The Shadow in his

calculations. The Kid's game took a stumble, the moment that he left the gun business with the thugs.

A weird laugh came from darkness only a few yards beyond the open bus door. It was mirth that quivered

with a challenge, a peal of strident mockery that only one living person could utter in such outlandish style.

Where Kid Pell would have remembered the persons in the bus and handled them with a few gun shots, the

mobbies did just the opposite. They obeyed the call of gangland. They strove to deliver the stroke that

WHEELING together, the two gunners blasted shots ahead of them as they drove out into the darkness. They

As the crooks fired off into the darkness, two guns answered at close range. The Shadow had faded inward,

not outward. His laugh, toned in ventriloquial style, was a masterpiece of deception. Coming in under the

jabbing guns, and below them, he answered with bullets blasted from close range.

Lunging upward, The Shadow warded aside the staggering thugs as they stumbled against his shoulders. He

The handsome highwayman had taken the only course still open. The moment that his assistants snapped The

Shadow's bait, Kid Pell had to follow them. He didn't know the details of their mistake, but he guessed the

results before they happened. His pals were finished, but in their unwitting suicide they were giving Kid Pell

His gun drawn as he reached the door, the Kid saw blackness loom up at him, a living mass of it. Kid Pell

was slated for death right then, before he even had a chance to swing his gun toward that blackcloaked

surging swirl. The thing that saved Kid Pell was the charge of a lightbrained brigade: the movie heroes who

They hit him in a solid surge, six of them, bowling him away from The Shadow's path of aim. Out to the

darkened ground, where each of the six could later claim the honor of having overpowered him. With no

camera to record who landed the telling blows, the situation seemed quite lovely until Kid Pell got busy.

Blocking punches with his left hand; swinging his gun with his right, it was the Kid who put over the

haymakers. Twisting past the front of the bus, he left a strew of dazed stars behind him. Fortunately for the

unwise attackers, Kid Pell fired no shots. He knew that he would need them for The Shadow.

As the fleeing highwayman cut away from the direction of the bus lights, The Shadow actually picked his

path in the darkness. Big automatics tongued bullets that whistled past Pell's ears.

The last of his mobbies gone; Kid Pell had become a lone wolf, using tactics much like The Shadow's. Close

The Shadow's shot did not drop him. Scrambling sounds became vague in the darkness. The Shadow's next

shots brought back sharp echoes, telling that the bullets had encountered rocks. Then came the glare of

headlights beyond a chunky knoll, followed by the roar of a motor. Kid Pell was making a getaway in the

Blinking a flashlight, The Shadow found a level stretch of ground. Pointing the torch off to the rear of the

A coupe wheeled up from the fake detour, its lights blazing into sight. The driver was Harry Vincent, one of

Swinging in beside Harry, The Shadow pointed out Pell's route. The coupe took up the chase along a bad dirt

road, following a taillight that gleamed like a pin point, well ahead. A jolt told that Pell's car had reached the

Patrolling State police had reached the scene. As The Shadow's car reached the highway, the police car

THE chase covered miles, with shots continuing ahead. At last, with the police car only a hundred yards

ahead, The Shadow saw a fork in the road. The police car wavered, picked the road to the right. The Shadow

Possibly The Shadow was simply trying to make the chase a sure one, but Harry had an idea that his chief

had made a better guess than the police car. Whatever the case, it was The Shadow who had found the trail.

He saw auto lights halted ahead, told Harry to extinguish his headlamps. The coupe crept close, guided by the

Dropping off, The Shadow approached a curious scene. Kid Pell was leaning against the radiator of his own

"Get back in that buggy," panted Kid Pell, "and get started when I say go. Remember... I'll be on the running

The scared man was hardly in his car before the police car came wheeling into sight, back on the right trail.

The Shadow heard Pell cough the word "Go!" and the old sedan rattled away. Dropping to the side of the

road, The Shadow blinked his flashlight. The color that he showed Harry was red.

Whizzing up, the State police spotted Pell's abandoned car and also sighted the taillight of the fleeing sedan.

They took up the chase, a difficult one, for roads formed a network in this vicinity. Chances were that the

Again, The Shadow's flashlight glimmered red, the ray well shrouded in the folds of his cloak, so that only

Harry caught the gleam. The Shadow had guessed Kid Pell's latest ruse. Listening, the cloaked avenger could

Kid Pell hadn't departed on the running board of the old sedan. This was Pell's actual goal; he had been lucky

enough to meet the other car, and had staged his trick to misguide the pursuing police. He had saved valuable

THE SHADOW moved silently toward the path. He did not have to look for Kid Pell. The Shadow could still

The real wonder was that Kid Pell made as little noise as he did. The Shadow had clipped him with a bullet;

the police had scored two hits during the chase. It was nerve alone that was dragging the crook forward.

As the hill steepened, Kid Pell sagged to hands and knees, crawled a dozen yards, and slumped against a

rock. His hands scraped the surface, noted the stone's conical shape. Kid Pell gritted a laugh. Crawling off to

A solid obstacle blocked him in the darkness. It was like a smooth wall, tilted back at a slight angle. Sliding

his hand upward, the mobster found a knob, tugged it as he drew himself to his feet. With surging effort, he

pulled the door open and pitched through to a bare floor, where he groped along at a descending angle.

With his fumbly hands, The Kid found an electric lantern, pressed its switch. The glow showed that he was in

an old trailer, parked off a wood road that led along the hill brow. In the light, Kid Pell's face showed very

The front of his Tuxedo jacket fell open, to show a white shirt dyed with blood. As Pell pressed his fingers to

the wounds, a crimson trickle oozed across his hands. Laying his head against the slanting inner wall of the

It might have been the echoes of that feeble tone that made him think he heard another sound. Lips

tightening, eyes staring, Pell slid his hand to his pocket and drew his gun. He steadied himself by using his

The lantern glow was turned toward the door of the trailer. Pell had pulled the door wide open, and it had not

closed. Blearyeyed, the dying crook watched the blackness of the doorway, until he fancied that its gloom

Blackness traced itself along the trailer's inner wall. It formed a hawkish profile, a sinister silhouette creeping

inward like a beckoning specter of approaching death. Above that profile, Kid Pell saw the outlined shade of

Again, the dying man looked toward the door, the direction in which his gun was pointed. There was no

longer any doubt about the blackness. It moved like the solid figure that had lunged in from the darkness

Kid Pell licked his dying lips, clenched his teeth and gritted another laugh. This time, it was answered, not by

a mere echo but by a whispered summons that seemed to certify the deserved doom of a murderer.

PELL'S next move was genuinely performed. As he saw The Shadow's gun muzzle look straight toward his

eyes, the Kid neither quailed nor tried to fire. Instead, he smiled and let his gun fall from his fingers.

He had yielded neither to fear nor to thought of revenge. He was welcoming The Shadow, a thing

unprecedented in any of the cloaked fighter's previous dealings with murderous men of crime!

It might mean a trap. The Shadow was watching Pell's other hand, the one that rested on the brake lever.

Instead of tightening, it withdrew. Fingers tried to beckon. The Shadow approached the dying man.

"You got me, Shadow," spoke Pell, wearily. "I had it coming. I'm not sorry. Only, I want to talk to you."

The Shadow seated himself on a camp stool, close beside Kid Pell. Meeting the steady gaze of boring eyes,

"They called me a public enemy," declared Pell. "What else could I be, after my first kill? You know what it

is to be quick on the trigger. That's the way I am" he hesitated, his smile dwindling "or was."

There was a pause. Off in the distance came the throb of a motor, that finally faded. Pell's smile returned.

"I tried crime," said the Kid. "It didn't pay. But I was in it deep. So I stayed. I've got no excuses. I'm not

even blaming the fellow that started me in it. What I did was on my own. Understand?"

The Shadow understood. Pell's eyes showed an eager gleam. He was prompted to say more, and did.

"I'm not blaming Turk Gorlon," declared Kid Pell. "Not for what's happened to me. But I'm telling you this:

Turk is a rat! He'd hurt anybody people that really count if he could show a nickel of profit from it.

"He's in on something big, Turk is." Pell closed his eyes, letting his voice slacken. "Something big and

ratty. Some bigger man is running it, but what it is I don't know. Only; it ought to be stopped.

"Yes, stopped, like I was stopped. Go after it, Shadow. Maybe you wonder why I'm talking this way. You

won't, when you find out who I am. Those letters, in the box they'll tell you. Take them with you, Shadow."

The Shadow saw the box that Pell meant. It was just inside the door of the trailer. The Kid's speech had

become a mumble; The Shadow drew closer to make out the words. Gradually, they showed coherence.

"Do me a favor," muttered the dying man. "Let me be forgotten as Kid Pell. I rigged this hideout, so I could

THE SHADOW'S whispered tone gave agreement. Pell's face relaxed. In the glow of the lantern, his features

lost their forced hardness. It was easy to see why he had been nicknamed the Kid. His age couldn't have been

Even his surroundings spoke a pathetic story. The shelves of the trailer were provisioned for a long stay; and

among the canned goods were a few jars of homemade jam; probably the very sort that he had swiped from

There were books, too, that dated back to boyhood. Even when he had embarked on his career as a public

enemy, Kid Pell had taken these along. He was looking at them, eyes open, the jam jars and the books, and he

was smiling again, Kid Pell was. But the dampness from his dying eyes was forming into little beads, like

"You'll keep it mum," he pleaded, "who I really am? It will help out, if Turk thinks I'm still alive. Let me go

A hand was resting on the Kid's shoulder. He could feel the power of its grip: the hand of The Shadow,

merciless to men of crime. To this dying youth, murderer though he was, the pressure of that hand had the

"Maybe, Shadow" The Kid was choking the words "I ought to have met you before. Maybe... if I had "

The grip tightened. It brought an end to regrets that could not be remedied. It steeled the Kid for what lay

"Better get... the box," panted the Kid. "Things... are going to happen... fast. There's a letter from Turk...

telling where I'm supposed to go... from here. Fix Turk... like he ought to be fixed, Shadow.

"And if you see Denry" eyes open, the Kid watched The Shadow pick up the box "give him back his

letters. Tell him... some day that I said he was right, all along. If I'd listened to Denry... I'd be "

A spasm racked Kid Pell. His eyes bulged, as his shoulders lifted. His whole shirt front was reddened; so was

The Kid's eyes went shut as his hand clamped down upon the brake lever. His blooddrenched fingers

slipped, losing their grip. He gave a plaintive, hopeless gasp. A moment later, The Shadow was beside him.

Lifting the limp hand, The Shadow tightened it on the lever, actually started it in motion. He was wheeling

away, when he saw the smile refix itself on the Kid's lips. As the lever slid, the trailer stirred. The Kid's lips,

There was a rumble beneath The Shadow's feet as he flung himself through the doorway, to land on solid

ground, clutching the box of letters. There was a sharp slam as the trailer door went shut. The rumble ending

Long, slow seconds seemed to count themselves; then, from far below, came a terrific splash that sent hollow

MOVING to the brink, The Shadow looked below. Trickles of moonlight, pressing through clouds, showed

Kid Pell had parked that old trailer on the quarry edge, so that he could plunge himself and his improvised

hideout into oblivion, there to remain forgotten. At least, forgotten as himself, though the name of Kid Pell

Who he really was, The Shadow would learn from the letters that the Kid had placed in his custody. By that

deed, and the statements that he made, The Kid had atoned in the small measure possible for his brief but

The Shadow had learned much through The Kid's mention of Turk Gorlon. Long known as a slick racketeer,

Turk had dodged the law too many times. His influence was the sort that had thrust many men into vicious

As for Denry, the other person that the Kid had mentioned, he represented the opposite influence. If the Kid

had followed Denry's advice, he would never have gone crooked. The letters would tell of Denry's identity,

Reaching the coupe, where Harry Vincent was waiting, The Shadow placed his cloak and hat beneath the seat

in a special drawer fitted there. It was a wise procedure, for they were stopped often by police cars on the way

As Cranston, The Shadow explained how he had been on the bus, but had escaped through an emergency exit

while Kid Pell was staging the frustrated holdup. Harry Vincent posed as a motorist who had met Cranston

on the highway. They had set out to give the alarm, only to learn that Kid Pell and the other bandits had been

Reaching his sanctum, a blackwalled room hidden near the heart of Manhattan, The Shadow read the letters

and other data that went with them. Placing them aside, he extinguished the bluish light that hung in a corner

Then came the tone of a strange, quivering laugh a prophetic tone, that echoed from blackcurtained walls

as though repeated from invisible corridors of time and space. That mirth did not mark the end of crime; it

Much needed to be learned. As yet, The Shadow had obtained but a single thread to crime. But that, alone,

justified The Shadow's granting of a dying request. It was well for the world to think that Kid Pell still lived,

particularly as that belief, if held by Turk Gorlon, would aid The Shadow in frustrating future evil.

As for the secret of a trailer hideout, sunk with its owner deep in the muggy waters of a quarry, that would

remain The Shadow's own. Upon the hillside stood a conical rock, a tombstone marking the unknown grave;

Should ever the strange tomb be discovered, its occupant would be identified only by his alias, Kid Pell. Of

Such was the last wish of a youthful and repentant public enemy; a wish fulfilled by The Shadow's decree.

RIDING in a Manhattan subway local, Denry Melwin frowned at newspaper headlines which told of recent

crime. Two nights had passed since the attempted holdup of the Hollywood movie star bus, and the law was

Descriptions of the fugitive public enemy bothered Denry. They reminded him too much of someone else a

person who couldn't possibly be Kid Pell, yet who at times had shown signs of getting close to that category.

Denry couldn't understand why any intelligent young man would turn to crime. The promise of easy money

certainly was not worth the hazard. Nevertheless, the lure continued to attract chaps like Kid Pell; a fact that

The train stopped at Denry's station. Tightening his hat, raising the collar of his raincoat, he started along the

Soon, Denry was walking along a lonely, forgotten block. An old house loomed up just ahead. It was the

Few persons were ever admitted through the portals of that mansion, but Denry was one of the chosen. This

was his third visit to the place, yet it still gave him a shuddery sensation when he stood on the high

Always, on those steps, Denry felt that he was being watched. Glancing across the street, he was sure that he

saw shifting figures move in the shelter of the house fronts opposite. Perhaps there were watchers placed

Then the door of the old house opened. Denry turned his face toward the light of the thin vestibule, so that

Admitted, Denry stepped inside, took off his hat and coat, while Larkin was triplebolting the stout door.

Despite its ancient furniture and ancestral portraits glaring from the oakpaneled walls, the library was a

cheery room, for it had a large fireplace between the great rows of bookshelves along the side wall, and a fire

Denry was smiling as he entered, for he expected to see Miss Ralcott. Instead, the room's occupant was a

Her head was topped by a large hair ribbon that matched her short, pink organdy dress. The book was resting

on her knees and her feet were extended toward the fire, fully enjoying its warmth, for a pair of short pink

Suddenly conscious that someone had entered, the child came to her feet and gave a surprised gasp. Denry

"It's 'Mother Goose,'" she said seriously. "I'm really too old for it, but I like to read it sometimes."

Denry let his handsome face grow solemn. The child appeared to be about twelve years old, and tall for her

"I'm Carol Marr," she said. "You must be Mr. Melwin. Auntie said that you were coming, but I didn't realize"

she glanced at a grandfather's clock that showed ten minutes of nine "how very late it was."

Hurriedly folding the book, she gathered her socks and sandals and started toward the door, when Denry

stopped her. He took the book in one hand, her arm in the other, and drew Carol gently toward a chair.

"I like 'Mother Goose,' too," he confessed. "Let's read some of it while I'm waiting to see your auntie."

SMILING at the child's bashful protest, Denry seated himself in a deep chair. He drew Carol to the chair arm,

letting her rest partly in his lap. She was sober at first, but she began to laugh as he read some of the verses

Miss Prudence Ralcott stood in the doorway. Elderly and austere, she was wearing a plain black dress that

Denry came to his feet as Carol was sliding from the chair arm. Turning to the girl, Miss Ralcott announced

"I have business with Mr. Melwin. It is past your bedtime, Carol. So run along, child."

"Yes, auntie." Carol scampered to the doorway, paused there. "Good night, auntie and good night, Mr.

"These children!" grumbled Miss Ralcott to Denry. Then, becoming businesslike in tone, she demanded:

Denry drew a sealed envelope from his pocket. Miss Ralcott opened it, read the letter, then tucked it away in

"He says that he will have the bonds soon," she declared, "and that you can answer any questions regarding

them. Very well, I have one. Why is Mr. Trone so confident that he can acquire these South American bonds

"I've worked for Mr. Trone more than three years," he said. "As an exporter, Mr. Trone does a large but

irregular business. Due to the complications of international credit, he tries to handle matters on a cash basis.

"That is sometimes difficult, almost impossible. At present, there is a great market for exports to South

America. Certain merchants are willing to pay high for goods. Lacking cash, they have offered these bonds at

Miss Ralcott nodded. Her grayish eyes caught the glow of the firelight. Denry realized that her shrewd,

"The South American merchants want goods," she remarked, with a dry chuckle, "so they are sacrificing

bonds at a loss. Mr. Trone, the new owner of the bonds, will want money. He should also be willing to make

"But don't you understand?" queried Denry. "Mr. Trone is already offering you the bonds below par."

"He must go still lower," returned Miss Ralcott. "He has to sell, but I do not have to buy. Tell him that when

he is ready to dispose of the bonds at less than his present price, he may come here to talk terms with me."

"Yes. All my transactions are in cash alone. These modern credit methods bah! They are the cause of all

USHERING Denry toward the hallway, Miss Ralcott noted sharply that the young man was quite dejected,

though he did his best to conceal it. Placing a long, thin hand upon the young man's arm, Miss Ralcott

"Do not worry," she reassured him. "Mr. Trone will not blame you. He probably knows that I am very rigid in

all matters that relate to business. He may fume awhile, but I shall hear from him. It always works that way."

Looking at Miss Ralcott, Denry was amazed at the kindliness of her smile. She seemed years younger, and

very gentle, with matters of business set aside. For the first time in any of his visits, Denry was meeting the

"You are a very honest young man," complimented Miss Ralcott. "You have personality, too. I am glad that I

have met you, and after this business is finished, you may regard yourself as a welcome caller any time you

Denry stammered his appreciation, while Miss Ralcott continued to smile. At last, he managed to say,

"I guess I impressed you tonight, the way I was reading 'Mother Goose' to your niece. But it just happens that

I'm fond of children and understand them. Carol is a very attractive child, Miss Ralcott."

"She was," agreed the old lady, a twinkle in her gray eyes, "and she is still attractive, although she has grown

"Oh, yes, she is," assured Miss Ralcott. "Carol happens to be twenty years old!"

Denry's face showed a cross between amazement and disbelief. Miss Ralcott became convulsed with

"Carol came to see me this evening," she said. "Because of the rain, she was drenched, and I told her to

change her clothes. She must have found some of the old things that she wore when she lived here years ago.

"She was playing that she was a little girl again, just to surprise her old auntie. Then you arrived early"

again, Miss Ralcott was losing her voice in laughter "and without knowing it, you turned the surprise on

Denry began to redden, which made Miss Ralcott laugh all the more. The old lady summoned Larkin, who

brought Denry's hat and coat. Just before she turned to the stairway, Miss Ralcott said:

"I haven't had such fun in years, Mr. Melwin. So just forget your confusion and laugh with me. Think of how

At the doorway, Denry told Larkin to wait. Hurrying to the corner drugstore, Denry bought a big lollypop and

ALL during his subway ride home, Denry was chuckling to himself, hoping that Miss Ralcott had been

present when Carol received the lollypop. Denry's apartment was a block from the subway station, but he was

Then something halted him. A man was stepping out from a darkened corner of the hallway. Denry didn't like

the way he kept his hand in his pocket, as if gripping a gun. The man's tone was ugly, too, as he asked

For a moment, Denry paused; then decided to respond with a nod. "I'm Shank Bithlo," introduced the sallow

Denry's firm reply brought a leer from Shank. The sallow man contemptuously drew his hand from his

pocket, empty. Apparently, Shank figured that anyone who had never heard of Turk could not prove

"Turk wants to see you," informed Shank, in a confidential tone. "It's about your brother Alvin."

Shank nodded. "Turk will tell you all about it," he assured. "Let's go. Turk ain't the sort who likes to be kept

A few minutes later, Denry Melwin was riding in a cab with Shank Bithlo, wondering where the journey

would end. He was thinking only of his kid brother, Alvin. He was wondering what trouble the kid had gotten

THE place where the cab took Shank and Denry was a disreputable dive in a squalid neighborhood. Shank

didn't enter the front door of the place. Muttering that there were "too many wise guys in the joint," he guided

Looking frontward along a narrow hall, Denry saw the main portion of the basement hangout. It was thick

with cigarette smoke and roughlooking thugs, all well supplied with bottles of cheap liquor.

The place had its private rooms, reserved for the elite of mobdom. Shank opened a door on the other side of

They grinned when they saw Shank and Denry. One nudged toward a door at the front of the dilapidated

Shank entered the forward room without knocking, beckoning for Denry to follow. This room, situated

midway in the dive, was a bit more presentable. It had wallpaper and a few pictures, also a table in the center.

At the table sat a squatty man whose broad face and yellowish complexion explained his nickname: Turk.

"Sit down, Melwin," he said smoothly. "Have a drink. I've got a lot to tell you."

"If it's about Alvin," returned Denry, pushing the proffered drink aside, "get to the point quick, Gorlon."

Turk's dark eyes narrowed. He was studying Denry's expression, saw worriment there.

Turk nodded. Still watching Denry, the racketeer took a drink. The effect was just what Turk wanted. Denry

"The Kid's all right," assured Turk. "I just heard from him. He got to where he was supposed to go."

"Don't take it that way," returned Turk. "Alvin didn't want to croak those guys. They just got in his road. He's

What Turk said was true; nevertheless; the facts somewhat bewildered Denry. He knew that his brother had

been in New York a few weeks ago, but he had supposed that Alvin had returned West, as Denry had so

Why had Alvin stayed East? What adverse chain of circumstances had caused him to go in for crime under

the alias of Kid Pell? While those questions racked Denry's brain, Turk began to answer them.

FIRST, Turk produced a wallet; from it, he drew some slips of paper. They proved to be promissory notes, of

different dates, signed by Alvin Melwin. Their total came to five thousand dollars; each I O U was made out

"The Kid lost his bank roll in some gambling joints," explained Turk, smoothly. "He thought he could go

back and knock them off. He sold me on the idea, so I took his markers and gave him dough. Only, he lost it,

Turk's glittery narrowed eyes were fixed on Denry, to watch the visitor's reaction. Satisfied that Denry was

"The Kid wanted to lift these markers," he said, "so he tried the bank job. If he'd been satisfied with what the

tellers would have handed him, he'd have been all right. Only, he wanted to make the job still bigger "

Like a huge dog breaking from leash, Denry launched across the table, thrusting his hands for Turk's throat.

Getting a grip, he began to shake the racketeer until Turk's face became a yellow blur.

"You rat!" Denry shouted. "You put Alvin up to it! You sent him to get blood money "

A flood of men fell upon Denry. They were the poker players from the other room, summoned hastily by

Shank. Rolling Denry to a corner, they were about to slug him with revolvers, when Turk intervened with a

"Shove him in his chair!" ordered Turk. "Then get back to your game. I'm going to talk to this lug until he

Roughly handled in the brief brawl, Denry couldn't do much more than listen, although he managed to glare

at Turk. The thugs left, but Shank remained handy, with a drawn gun. Turk rubbed his throat, took a drink,

"If I told the Kid where he could get easy dough, I wasn't to blame if he went after it. Nobody can pin that rap

"The Kid was crazy to bust loose the way he did. He ought to have lammed when the first job fluked. Instead,

he tried to highjack an armored truck. Busting into a Jersey bank, trying to hold up a bus were just a couple

Gathering the promissory notes that were scattered over the table, Turk shook each separate I O U in front of

"Five grand," totaled Turk, in a raspy tone, "and I want the dough within a week! If I don't get it, the Kid

takes a murder rap! I know where he is" Turk brandished a telegram that he drew from his pocket "and

With that ultimatum, Turk stuffed away the notes and the telegram. Lighting a cigarette, he coolly watched

THOUGHTS were flashing to Denry in rapid succession. He saw the, strength of Turk's position, knew that

the racketeer meant what he said. It was a question of five thousand dollars or Alvin's life as sacrifice to the

That wasn't all. Denry knew the virtues that mingled with Alvin's faults. He'd prefer death, Alvin would,

That was proven by the fact that Alvin had operated under the alias of Kid Pell.

"As I take it," returned Denry, slowly, "you want me to pay off the five thousand dollars."

"You're a regular mind reader," sneered Turk. "If you come through with the five grand, your brother stays in

Rising to his feet, Denry strolled half across the room. Shank began to gesture with the gun, but Turk

"You're a doublecrosser!" he told Turk. "If that wasn't the case, I might listen to your terms. This debt you

mention apparently has no direct connection with Alvin's crimes. He might have wanted to pick up easy

"Who's a doublecrosser?" broke in Turk. "Can't I count myself a straightminded citizen, just like you are?

We both want to look out for Alvin, but we've both got a duty, too. He's a killer, and we ought to turn him

The argument was shady, but it had some logic. Enough, at least, to indicate that Turk was adhering to some

"Look at it this way," argued Turk. "The Kid has lammed, and I'm out dough. If you pay it off and tell me to

forget all about Alvin, I'll be grateful enough to keep my trap shut. But if you don't come through, it shows

that maybe your brother is a welsher. Knowing I won't get my dough, I might as well think about my duty."

"If I pay the money," he said, "will you give me a statement that the thing is settled in full?"

"That's right. That's when Alvin agreed to pay up. I don't care where the dough comes from, just so I get it."

With a smile, Denry lighted a cigarette of his own. He strolled toward a door at the side of the room, one that

"Over at my apartment," returned Turk. "I'm in the phone book, initials J.T.; but if I don't hear from you in a

"Don't go out that way, Melwin. Go through the back room, where the boys are playing poker. It's the route

Shank had stepped to the rear door and was opening it, so Denry could go that way. About to turn around,

Denry became suddenly stubborn. He might as well show crooks that he was independent of them.

In a way, Denry held Turk helpless. He remembered how Turk had called off his ugly hounds only a short

while ago. As things stood, Turk couldn't afford to get tough with Denry; for if he did, he would never

Considering such facts, Denry decided to go out by his own route, not Turk's. Suddenly clamping the knob of

the hallway door, he twisted it, yanked the door inward, intending to step out calmly and go his way.

Denry's quick yank brought more than the door. In lunged a figure that had drawn close outside; an intruder

who had actually started to ease the door open when Denry pulled it. The unexpected newcomer was cloaked

Though Denry didn't recognize the being in black, crooks did. It was Shank Bithlo, at the farther door, who

DESPITE Turk's claim that he took no part in crime, his mobbies proved themselves a very active tribe. Their

hands came jerking into sight, bringing guns, before Shank had completed his loudvoiced yell.

Their speed, however, did not match The Shadow's. Flinging Denry from his path, the blackcloaked invader

Tonguing guns found no target in the darkness. The Shadow was among the marksmen a moment later,

slashing their weapons from their fists. Savagely, they tried to down their invisible foe; but when hands

caught The Shadow's gun, it spoke. Thugs sagged away from the blackclad fighter.

Turk wasn't in the fray. He had grabbed Denry, was dragging him through the rear doorway. Shank was still

there; as the pair went by, the lieutenant turned on a flashlight and swept its ray through the middle room.

It would have gone badly with Shank if Turk hadn't hauled him from the doorway, through to the rear room.

An automatic roared; one of The Shadow's bullets split the space where Shank had been. The laugh that The

Shadow gave betokened a coming pursuit. Shoving Denry ahead of him, Turk yelled savagely for Shank to

Halfway to the rear door, The Shadow was suddenly outlined in the glare of flashlight's that came from the

hallway. Sound of gunfire had brought a surge of hoodlums from the big front room of this underworld

Grouped beyond the doorway that Denry had so unwisely opened, those arrivals spotted The Shadow. Like

Turk's mobbies, they recognized their archfoe and began to shoot. The Shadow was fading, slantwise, while

Thugs sprawled. Others dropped back, yelling for more to come and help them get The Shadow. But none

wanted to thrust their faces into that doorway. It was too much like entering a coffin.

Some had sneaked past the doorway. They were entering the rear room through which Turk and Shank had

fled with Denry. More joined the sneaking group. Their idea was to work in and block off The Shadow,

catching him in a pincer grip from two doorways. Crooks forgot that The Shadow preferred to work in

In the darkness, he listened, waiting while men crept closer, through the back room. Steadily, The Shadow

eased toward the hallway door, where thugs did not expect him. Then, just as a flashlight glimmered from the

With a quick swoop, The Shadow reached the hallway, to fling himself into the midst of the men who were

The sudden thrust took them off guard. Gungripped hands smashed fists that clutched revolvers; then went

Though guns were spouting about him, The Shadow remained unscathed. He was flinging the hurried

Then The Shadow wheeled and drove for the big room at the front of the hall. He was heading into crime's

THAT very element fitted with The Shadow's strategy. He had correctly guessed that all thugs who were

actually anxious for battle would be on his trail. The bunch in the front, though large in number, would be

As The Shadow wheeled into the main room swinging a brace of automatics, crooks dived beneath tables.

The mockery of The Shadow's laugh, loud, strident, challenging, spurred their search for shelter. A few guns

spoke hastily, to be answered by direct blasts that felled the men who handled them.

Reaching the front door, The Shadow paused there. He jabbed a few shots along the hall; gestured his guns

His dash was too earnest. It had the look of flight. Emboldened thugs sprang to their feet, pitching tables from

their paths. Yelling like excited hounds, they took up the chase, believing that they at last would have The

They hadn't been close enough to the door to hear the sounds that The Shadow's keen ears had caught.

As crooks poured to the street, spreading to hunt The Shadow, police cars wheeled in from both ends of the

block. Law guns opened fire, sprawling crooks as they dived away. Others, coming from the basement, tried

They began a barrage that halted the police cars; then, howling murderously, the thugs broke into two groups,

Outnumbering the officers four to one, the hoodlums hoped to take it out on the police, thus amending their

failure with The Shadow. In their hope of new prey, they forgot the cloaked fighter.

Forgetting The Shadow was poor policy. Crooks who did it usually had their memories jogged.

Guns blasted from across the street. Their swifttongued fire produced a withering effect. Crooks were

spinning, losing their guns as they toppled, like toy tops ending a whirl. Others were stumbling, trying vainly

to retain their grips on their guns as they staggered right into the fire of the police.

Sniping with a precision wherein every shot scored a hit, The Shadow was turning berserk crooks over to the

More police were arriving. The flood of crooks had ended. Some of the thuggish marksmen were staggering

back into the basement. The officers followed them, came out dragging captured prisoners. Beaten thugs

From across the street came the weird tone of a shivery laugh, that blended away into the distant rumble of

the city's traffic. A rookie cop turned his flashlight between two buildings, saw nothing but an empty space.

This time, there was no deception in The Shadow's laugh. It had actually trailed into the distance, as the

FAR from that scene of battle, a cab was skidding to a stop near the apartment house where Denry Melwin

Opening the taxi door, Denry stepped out into the lessening rain without expressing a good night or rendering

Continuing their ride, Turk and Shank had little to say, because the taxi driver might have overheard them.

But when they reached Turk's own apartment, a quarter hour later, they opened a heated conversation. Turk

"What a sap you were," he snarled at Shank, "to start a battle with The Shadow!"

"You could have ducked out. I was ready to douse the light, when he blasted it."

"We couldn't have taken Melwin along with us, if the gang hadn't pitched into The Shadow. I did the best I

"Here's to the boobs we left behind us," said Turk, "or what's left of them. The cops won't be able to link

them to me any more than they could with those other gorillas who worked for Kid Pell."

"Melwin figures you framed his brother," said Shank. "Maybe he'll guess that you steered the kid into those

"What of it?" demanded Turk. "The debts stand, don't they? Melwin saw the markers and recognized his

brother's signatures. He'll come through with the dough, all right. What's more, there's only one way he can

"Yeah. That's what the big shot wants. But Denry won't get tough like his kid brother did. He'll use what they

call finesse, which is another name for being smart. He'll steal the dough from the guy he works for. It's his

Shank nodded. He knew that Turk had put Alvin into a jam in order to reach Denry. Apparently, the game

"We're after big dough," asserted Turk. "When we get it, we'll lam to Mexico or somewhere else. Things are

getting too hot for me, Shank. I've kept clear officially, but if certain guys talked, I'd wake up some day to

find a few raps hanging over me. That's why I'm willing to clean up and get out."

The telephone bell was ringing. Picking up the receiver, Turk spoke; then he nodded to Shank, indicating that

crime's real head was on the wire. Coolly, Turk told how Denry had snapped the bait.

"It was perfect," spoke Turk, into the telephone, "until The Shadow mooched in on us... No, he didn't find out

who Melwin was. I figure The Shadow was just snooping around that joint... Sure, we got away easy, leaving

The Shadow battling a lot of dumb gorillas. Maybe" Turk's tone was hopeful "maybe they knocked off

Hanging up, Turk began to rub the back of his neck. He turned to Shank and commented:

"His nibs is going to keep check on Melwin. We'll know when things are ripe. Only, what's the good of

Turk stared. Shank was right all the windows were closed. Turk decided that the draft must have come

BLACKNESS stirred beyond a closed window. A blotting shape worked itself away in the pelting rain. A

cloaked figure was traveling along a narrow, slippery ledge ten floors above the street. Reaching an empty

Hidden lips uttered a whispered laugh. The Shadow had profited by this visit to Turk's premises. He had

learned more than Turk supposed back at the shabby meeting place where Turk had talked terms with Denry.

Working from the original information given him by Alvin Melwin, The Shadow had arranged the telegram

which Turk had received, supposedly from the missing Kid Pell. From then onward, The Shadow had been

What crooks intended to do; how Denry Melwin would be involved, were matters still to be discovered. But

when the chain was complete, The Shadow hoped to entangle criminals in links of their own manufacture.

Not only crooks like Turk Gorlon and his sidekick, Shank Bithlo, but a man higher up the real master

OF the dozen employees who worked in the exporting offices of Lawrence Trone, Denry Melwin was the

most trusted and rated the highest salary. He drew down eighty dollars a week and was worth twice that much

He knew that Trone was laying cash aside toward a retirement fund; that when Trone was far enough ahead,

So far, Trone's reserve totaled approximately sixty thousand dollars. Denry had the exact figures, because one

of his duties was to deposit additional funds in the special bank account that would some day lead to Trone's

Seated at his desk outside Trone's office, Denry wished that he had a twelfth of that sum. A few days had

passed since Denry's meeting with Turk Gorlon; at frequent intervals, Denry had been pained by the

cankering thought that he would have to meet the racketeer's demand for five thousand dollars before the

Denry didn't have five thousand dollars. In fact, his own bank account didn't even approach five hundred.

Denry had been sending most of his earnings out West, to his mother and his sisters. More recently, he had

loaned sums to Alvin. In fact, Denry had just reached the point where he was ready to begin saving, when this

There was a way whereby Denry could acquire five thousand dollars before the week was up. He didn't like

to think about it, even though, from his point of view, it could be termed borrowing, instead of stealing. The

Nevertheless, the money could be had, and Denry was confident that he could replace it within a year, during

which period it wouldn't be missed. He was figuring that he could save half of his weekly salary; more,

Denry had insurance policies which he could turn into cash; furniture that he could sell when his present

apartment lease was ended. Yes, he could make up the five thousand, but he didn't like the idea of taking it.

The source that Denry had in mind was Trone's reserve fund. He knew that his employer intended to make a

Denry's financial calculations were interrupted by a visitor, who wished to see Mr. Trone. The caller was

Lamont Cranston, a gentleman who had come to the export office regularly during the past few days.

An interesting person, Cranston: calmmannered, quiettoned, and with remarkable eyes that seemed as

impenetrable as his masklike face. Cranston was wealthy, and famous as a world traveler. He had first come

to see Trone regarding the shipment of supplies and complete equipment for a large hunting expedition in

Pleased by such a customer, Trone had talked of many things, and the subject had swung to South American

bonds. Denry had overheard conversation of that sort and was sure that Cranston's present visit related to

Nodding when Cranston asked for Trone, Denry knocked at the door of the exporter's private office and

announced the visitor. Soon, Cranston and Trone were cloistered in a private conference.

IN contrast to his tall, calmmannered visitor, Lawrence Trone was a shortbuilt man, of a somewhat fussy

nature. Behind his desk, he bobbed about like a Punch and Judy figure, always reaching for paper and pencil

With all his fussiness, he was a man of method, and Trone's nervous energy could always be directed to a

single issue. That was the secret of his success in the export business a precarious trade, in which many

Trone was quick to seize opportunities, and Cranston had provided one. In fact, Cranston was the very sort of

"Here's how it stands, Mr. Cranston," declared Trone in a brisk tone, as he shoved a sheet of figures across

the desk. "The South American merchants are ordering goods worth a quarter of a million dollars, and are

"I'm ready and willing to sell the bonds for two hundred and fifty thousand, the price of the merchandise. In

that way, I'll simply make my regular profit. That's fair enough, isn't it? The person who buys the bonds will

Trone produced a handkerchief and mopped his baldish forehead. He shook his head nervously, then groaned.

"I've already committed myself," he declared. "If Miss Ralcott will pay a quarter million, I'll have to sell the

"She probably will, if she knows there is another bidder. It puts me in a dilemma, Mr. Cranston. I don't want

to use you as an argument to make Miss Ralcott buy. I wouldn't be able to give you anything in return."

With that frankly put statement, Trone reached dejectedly for the sheet of figures. Cranston stopped him.

"The situation intrigues me," remarked Cranston, calmly. "I have met many wealthy persons, but I have never

had the pleasure of calling on Miss Ralcott. I understand that she is very proud of her ability to flatten all

"She is," nodded Trope. "From the way young Melwin describes her, Miss Ralcott has a profile like the lady

"Suppose that I went with you," suggested Cranston, "at the time when you intend to complete the

transaction. Miss Ralcott could not object to my presence. In fact, if you tell her that you have a rival bidder,

Trone beamed at the suggestion. Finding his voice, he began to pour his thanks. Rising, Cranston stopped

"The pleasure will be all mine, Mr. Trope," he said. "I shall enjoy seeing Miss Ralcott pay cash on the line

Going out, Cranston passed Denry's desk, noted that the young man was staring out through the window.

Denry looked worried, and The Shadow knew why. Clear of the export offices, The Shadow let his thin lips

Denry's worriment pleased The Shadow. It meant that matters were working as crooks planned. This was one

occasion when The Shadow wanted evil schemes to develop. The game was so deep, so crafty, that the only

Hidden hands were in the game, working at secret purposes. The Shadow suspected their existence, but had

not yet traced them. Proof was very close, but located where The Shadow could not detect it when he made

IN an office below Trone's, a crablike, stoopshouldered man was laying aside a pair of earphones that were

hooked to a dictograph. Reaching for a telephone, the crablike man dialed a number and asked for Mr.

"Hello, Mr. Hebler," said the crablike man in confidential tone. "This is Jervis... Yes, Cranston called on

"Yes, young Melwin should be leaving shortly; it's almost five o'clock... Certainly, Mr. Hebler. I'll see where

Upstairs, Denry was answering a phone call that had been put through to his desk. His hands were trembling,

he had trouble controlling his voice, for he was afraid that the call was coming from Shank Bithlo, just as a

"Oh, hello, Miss Marr!" Denry managed to give a nervous chuckle. "I thought you would like it."

"I did," said Carol, very seriously, "but I've grown up since you saw me. I don't think you'd recognize me,

"The present is a good time," laughed Carol. "Why don't you come over to the cocktail lounge at the Hotel

It was almost five o'clock and Trone had just departed, so there was nothing to keep Denry in the office. He

reached the Metrolite, looked over the throng in the cocktail lounge and finally approached a booth occupied

Denry had recognized Carol by the smile she gave him. Otherwise, he would never have known her as the

Carol was very grown up indeed, and as they chatted, Denry found himself apologizing for his error of the

"It was a very entertaining introduction," she said. "I think we can regard it as the beginning of a real

Denry nodded. He felt that the friendship had already blossomed; that he had known Carol for years. Lost in

admiration of Carol's charm, he did not realize that she was equally attracted by his personality.

They were talking, though, of future meetings, when Denry, forgetting his resolutions of economy, suggested

that they dine together that evening. Carol nodded her acceptance of the invitation, and Denry arranged to call

As they parted outside the hotel, neither Denry nor Carol noticed a stoopshouldered man who had followed

them from the lounge. Even had they seen him, they would not have suspected that he had overheard most of

The observer was Jervis. Hurrying away in his crablike fashion, the spy displayed a leer upon his saturnine

face. Taking a cab, Jervis began to transcribe shorthand notes that he had jotted down while at the Metrolite.

He was adding them to those that he had gathered earlier, when he had listened in on Cranston and Trone.

On his way to see his master, the mysterious Mr. Hebler, Jervis was bringing in facts that were to have a

strong bearing on the future. Facts that could interfere with many plans, particularly those of The Shadow!

FORMING a belt around the tower of a lofty skyscraper were four rows of dark windows, that made a

Those windows represented floors fortyone to fortyfour inclusive, and they were never lighted. Most of the

workers on those floors went home early. Any who remained invariably drew thick shades over the windows

The four floors had a single entrance on the fortyfirst floor. Its frostedglass panel bore the legend:

Even among attorneys, Uriah Hebler was something of a mystery. In New York, the names of four or five

lawyers often appeared on the door of a single office. One name fronting several dozen offices that occupied

Curiously, Uriah Hebler had very few clients. It was known, however, that his slim clientele represented

some of the wealthiest persons in New York. It was rumored that he rented his huge array of offices in order

Hebler's clients were the sort who could not afford to have such records buried in inaccessible storerooms.

The fees that they paid for Hebler's services included rental of the special offices. Unquestionably, important

Other lawyers sometimes joked about Hebler's offices. They said that in his spare time Hebler amused

himself by wandering around and opening filing cabinets just to hear family skeletons rattle. But no one

Not only did Hebler follow the lawyer's rule of keeping the affairs of his clients strictly confidential, he

carried it further by not even revealing who his clients were. Many smart lawyers who handled courtroom

Seldom did Hebler appear in court; for that matter, he was rarely seen anywhere. His clients were persons

who remained exclusive, and Hebler seemed to have imbibed their habits. Perhaps that was why the

On this particular afternoon, the celebrated Mr. Hebler was seated in an office that might have been termed

the center of his vast web. A good comparison, for Uriah Hebler had the appearance of a bunchedup spider,

as he huddled with folded arms behind a huge oak desk ornamented with heavy brass trimmings.

The shades were drawn; a desk lamp illuminated the room. It showed Hebler's face, withery except for its

sharpbeaked nose. Hebler's eyes were shut, his scrawny hands were limp. He looked like a man wearied by

Yet he heard the soft rap that sounded from the distant door on the other side of the huge office. Hebler's eyes

Sharp and birdlike, those eyes caught the glitter of the lamplight, giving new life to Hebler's withered frame.

His hands clamped firmly to the desk; when he spoke, his tone was brisk and commanding, as he ordered the

Jervis came into the office and pussyfooted across to the desk. He laid his reports in front of Hebler; one

typed, the other carefully written in longhand. Reading the first report, Hebler gave a shrewd smile.

"I thought so," expressed the attorney. "Sooner or later, Trone was bound to talk to someone about those

"It would have been better" Hebler's lips gave a sour twist "if we had to deal with Trone alone. I had not

expected any real trouble from him. But this man Cranston may produce a problem. Get his record, Jervis."

AS Jervis left the office, Hebler studied the second report. He gave a muttered grunt as he read snatches of

the conversation between Denry and Carol, as overheard by Jervis. Nevertheless, Hebler treated the matter as

The records on Lamont Cranston were rather elaborate, yet lacking in many details. Running his finger along

certain paragraphs, Hebler tilted his head and stared across the room with his wise, sharp eyes. At last, he

"I have spent many thousands of dollars," snapped Hebler, testily, "in acquiring information regarding

persons of reputed wealth, such as Lamont Cranston. Yet when I need the records, what do they show?

"Gaps! Glaring omissions of the very points that I specifically need! Yet, sometimes, Jervis" Hebler settled

his thin chin on one scrawny hand "sometimes omissions tell a story in themselves."

Jervis nodded solemnly. Carrying the file that contained details on Cranston, he went out through a labyrinth

of offices and put the record sheets back in their proper place. When Jervis returned, he heard Hebler

As Jervis entered the office, the attorney rose. He told Jervis to bring him hat, coat, and umbrella. Jervis

"I just made the necessary call," assured Hebler. "The two men will be on duty, Jervis. The same two that I

placed outside the house before. If any intruders approach, they will be properly handled."

Within a quarter hour after he left his offices, Uriah Hebler arrived by cab outside the Ralcott mansion. The

evening was drizzly, the street thick with blackness. Yet Hebler's sharp eyes viewed two squatty men sliding

They were the same pair that Denry had noticed on his last visit; but where Denry hadn't been quite sure that

He did not signal the men, however; instead, he acted as if he did not suspect their presence. Ascending the

Miss Prudence Ralcott had finished dinner. She received Hebler in the library. The withery, whitehaired

"I have looked further into the bond transaction," announced Hebler. "Apparently, you are due to encounter a

Folding her arms, Miss Prudence smiled. She was quite confident that she would have no trouble buying the

"Cranston is reputed to be very wealthy," added Hebler. "He offered Trone a quarter million for the bonds."

"He feels that he must obtain your refusal first," returned Hebler, "which is only to be expected. My records

"I'm not sure about Cranston," he said seriously. "The man is famous in a way. Too famous!"

"For his adventures all over the world. He has money, yes, which he is supposed to have inherited. But the

records on the subject are very meager. I think that Cranston may be an adventurer in more ways than one."

"Remember," he said, "that I advised against this transaction. It may prove risky, Miss Prudence bringing a

"But I have told you before that the news would leak out!" ejaculated Hebler. "That is why I have been

watching Trone. With Cranston entering the scene, we know that Trone has talked!"

MISS PRUDENCE reached for her knitting, which was beside the chair. Hebler gave a hopeless gesture.

"If anything happens here," he began, "remember that I have warned you. Even if Cranston should prove

honest, too, we cannot tell who else may have learned about your coming purchase."

"I am sorry, Uriah," interjected Miss Prudence. "But you know how independent I am in certain matters.

"Which makes it all the greater bargain," smiled the old lady. "I have made up my mind to buy those bonds,

Cannily, Hebler stopped making objections. He remarked that Trone would probably request the privilege of

bringing Cranston with him to the house, to witness the purchase of the bonds. That prospect merely pleased

Rising, Hebler turned toward the door. On the threshold, he paused to make a further comment.

"This may impress you," said the lawyer, testily. "Denry Melwin, the man who represents Lawrence Trone,

"Really?" exclaimed Miss Prudence, in a horrified tone. "Of course, she couldn't have accepted!"

"She did accept," returned Hebler, dryly. "I thought that news would bring you to your senses, Miss

Leaning back in her chair, Miss Prudence chuckled, while Hebler stood staring from the doorway.

"You old fool, Uriah!" exclaimed Miss Prudence. "Couldn't you guess that Denry met Carol here? You

thought I was horrified" she tilted her head "or did you? Somehow, I credited you with more sense than

Regaining a smug attitude, Hebler became noncommittal. He treated the matter with a gesture.

"I thought it would interest you," he said. "That was all. It was pertinent to the case, since Denry Melwin is

"I suppose not," admitted Hebler. "I was merely considering your interests. Again, let me repeat my warning

" that I was warned," interposed Miss Prudence, with a chuckle. "Yes, Uriah, I shall remember that you

have done your full duty in my behalf. Good night, and don't forget your umbrella."

Larkin, returning after he had bolted the front door behind Hebler, found Miss Prudence standing in the

"Poor Mr. Hebler," said the old lady. "No wonder he stays away from court! He tried to talk me out of

OUTSIDE, Uriah Hebler was looking back at the old house as he stepped into a chance cab that he had

halted. The lawyer's smug manner had vanished; his withered face wore a very contemptuous smile.

As he rode away, Hebler looked back along the street, spied his watchers and gave a satisfied chortle.

Perhaps he was merely thinking that Miss Prudence was a very stubborn person, who would some day come

to thank him for his advice and protection. Hebler's chuckle could have meant just that. But one could never

It might be that the aged lawyer was considering some personal scheme, that he had not mentioned to his

His brain was one of the craftiest in New York, the sort which shaped all matters to suit its own wishes.

Hebler had demonstrated his insight when he had seen the possible importance of the missing facts in the

Whatever his actual intentions regarding the interests of Miss Prudence Ralcott, Uriah Hebler was quite

The person that Hebler had in mind was Lamont Cranston, whose history showed many gaps, covering the

THE big theaterbuilding clock showed half past two as Denry Melwin viewed it from the window beside his

desk. He had watched that clock often before, but never with such tenseness as he did today.

Tonight, probably sometime before midnight, Turk Gorlon would expect the five thousand dollars that Denry

had promised him. Failure to deliver would cause Turk to go through with his threats regarding Alvin; of that,

Daily, Denry had been hoping that he would hear from his missing brother. Such word might have enabled

him to wire Alvin to be on his way. True, Turk could reveal that Alvin was the notorious Kid Pell, but he

The real teeth in Turk's game, as Denry saw it, was the racketeer's ability to steer the law to Kid Pell's present

The long hand of the clock was moving onward. Denry's fists tightened, a flush swept his face. He couldn't go

through with it, not even for Alvin. It wouldn't be fair to Trone, for one thing, although Denry placed his

brother's interest above that of his employer's. More important was the fact that it would not be fair to Carol.

Denry had seen Carol last night, the night before; in fact, every night since that evening when they had dined

together. Each meeting had been a greater thrill, and last night a huge light had dawned on Denry.

He loved Carol. He had known that before last night. But it hadn't occurred to him, until last night, that

He had almost told Carol that he loved her; then there had been an interruption. But in a single instant, Denry

had caught the flash of Carol's eyes, had seen her lips tremble, ready to respond to the words that he had

So real that she wouldn't care if the Melwin name received a blemish. It was Denry that she cared for,

regardless of all else. He could still face Carol, even should she learn that his brother was a crook. But if

Denry turned criminal in his own right, he would no longer be worthy of Carol's love.

The telephone bell tingled. Eagerly, Denry answered, thinking it was Carol. Instead, he heard the harsh voice

"Don't forget the deadline," Shank told him. "Turk told me to remind you. Better take my tip, guy. It ain't

healthy to welsh on Turk. What he'll do to your little brother will only be part of it, if you don't come

The receiver slid from Denry's hand. He was struck by the thought that Turk might know of Carol and find

some way to harm her, too. Out of the maddened whirl that swept his brain, Denry found himself groping

There was still time to go through with it. Reaching into the desk drawer, Denry drew out the savingsfund

book that bore the name of Lawrence Trone. Rising mechanically, he walked to Trone's door and rapped. He

Cranston was calling on Trone; there was a stenographer present, too, taking lists of goods that Cranston

"The bank closes in twenty minutes, Mr. Trone," said Denry, steadily. "You told me to remind you about the

"Ah, yes." Trone smiled. Opening a drawer, he drew out a sheet of paper. "My figures show that the reserve

fund totals sixtytwo thousand four hundred and eighty dollars. Is that correct?"

"Correct," acknowledged Denry, referring to the deposit book. "How much more is going in today, sir?"

"Seven thousand two hundred and fifty," returned Trone, producing a batch of bills. "Count it, Denry. That

brings the total" Trone gave a satisfied nod "to just not quite seventy thousand."

Denry counted the bills that his employer handed him. He had hardly finished, before Trone waved him to the

REACHING the bank in time, Denry huddled close to a corner table and counted off five thousand dollars,

which he slid back into his inside pocket. He deposited the rest of the money to Trone's account, then left the

On the way back to the office, Denry kept his arm pressed across his inside pocket, where the money seemed

Returned to his desk, he huddled there, hard at work on some shipping figures. His coat tightly buttoned,

He was keeping up his courage by congratulating himself on his own smartness. A clever idea, leaving the

deposit book at the bank. Trone probably wouldn't ask to see it; but if he did, Denry could explain why he

When Cranston came from Trone's office, Denry hunched closer to his desk and looked the other way. He felt

jittery, for he was sure that Cranston's eyes were fixed on him; but finally the visitor was gone, and Denry felt

Trone went out at four thirty, much to Denry's relief. Just before five Carol called, and Denry promised to

meet her at eight o'clock. On the way back to his apartment, he kept adding and multiplying figures,

It would all work out, Denry decided. He could make deposits at intervals, bringing up the total to exactly

what it should be. Months from now, Trone would have forgotten the dates of the deposits. Trone's own

figures weren't dated. If they compared well enough with the deposit total, he would suspect nothing.

In fact, it would be easy to lull Trone completely by adding twenty or thirty dollars extra and saying that it

Pleased by that bright thought, Denry resolved to save it for the future. Matters were looking very rosy;

without realizing it, Denry was falling into the feeling of false confidence that had urged his brother Alvin

Soon after Denry reached his apartment, someone knocked at the door. It was Shank, his sallow face as ugly

"It all depends on where Turk wants to meet me," replied Denry, coolly. "If he's picked a dive like the one the

They took a cab and rode off through the dusk. The pretentious apartment house suited Denry when he

viewed it. He entered an elevator with Shank, rode up to Turk's apartment, where the squatty racketeer

On this occasion, Denry accepted. He finished the drink, and while Turk was pouring him another, Denry

Counting the money, Turk laid it aside. He brought out Alvin's notes. Across the back of each he wrote "Paid

in Full," and signed his name. He also signed a brief typewritten statement listing the total of Alvin's debts,

with the fact that they were entirely clear. Passing the signed papers to Denry, Turk thwacked his visitor on

"We might as well be friends," said Turk. "Any time you need a favor done, Melwin, just call on me. I feel

kind of bad about your brother getting himself jammed up, even though I'm not to blame."

For a moment, Denry's eyes were bitter; then, deciding that it would be poor policy to rouse Turk's enmity, he

"Let's forget it, Turk," decided Denry. "I guess I lost my head the other night."

"You've used it since then," assured Turk. "You managed to dig up the dough in time. That shows your bean

was working. Say" Turk's tone indicated sudden admiration "did you borrow it from the old lady?"

"Old lady Ralcott," returned Turk. "Never mind the bluff, Melwin. We know all about the trips you've made

Remembering the watchers that he had noted outside the Ralcott mansion, Denry realized the probable

connection. They had sneaked quickly from sight, those snoopers, in a fashion that suited mobbies who

"We figured the old lady was a friend of yours," resumed Turk. "That's why I was sure you could dig up the

five grand. But we might as well forget that, too. It's none of my business how you got the dough. So long,

GOING down in the elevator, Denry was pleased over one thing. Though Turk had noted his visits to the

Ralcott house, he had evidently regarded them as social calls. It followed, therefore, that Turk knew nothing

of the business deal that Denry was arranging between Miss Prudence and Lawrence Trone.

Back in the apartment, the racketeer was expressing a new side of the story, for Shank's benefit.

"That was handing it out, wasn't it?" chuckled Turk. "Mentioning the old dame was good stuff, Shank, the

way I did it. Since Melwin figures I don't know anything about her deal with Trone, he won't mind my

"We've got Melwin in a tight spot, Shank. He's tied up as bad as his kid brother was, only he doesn't know it.

Some more of the old finesse stuff, Shank. Like that 'So long, pal,' that I handed him."

Turk strolled to the window, which happened to be open, for the evening was mild. Standing there, he

"Melwin grabbed that dough from his boss. He thinks he's gotten away with something, but he hasn't. Sooner

or later, he'll find himself in a jam; then he'll listen to anything. Getting into that old doll's joint will be a

cinch for us, and the guy that will take the rap is Denry Melwin, America's No. 1 sucker!"

Turk was grinning broadly as he finished his statement, but suddenly his smile faded and his eyes went

narrow. He was looking from the window; tonight, there was no blotting shape just beyond it.

But Turk, gazing down to the street, fancied that he saw streaky blackness fading from the doorway of the

The telephone bell was jangling. Shank nudged toward the table where the telephone stood.

"Maybe it's the big shot, Turk. You'd better talk to him. He'll want to know how you made out with Melwin."

"Yeah I'll tell him." Turk was stepping toward the telephone. "There's something else I'll tell him, too.

Though Turk Gorlon had not actually seen a blackcloaked figure down below, his imagination had at least

been stirred. Whatever The Shadow's coming plans in this campaign, he would find crooks wary and ready

IN covering Denry's visit to Turk's apartment, The Shadow had found no need to listen in on what was said.

Mere observation of Denry had been sufficient. When Denry arrived at Turk's, his pocket had shown a telltale

bulge that The Shadow had noted at Trone's. Leaving, Denry was smoothcoated, his attitude was bravado

Denry was facing the treacherous future with the confidence that he had passed the worst hazards. With

Alvin's problems cleared, Denry evidently considered his own difficulties to be mild. It hadn't struck him that

The Shadow understood the situation. He had fitted the picture well. To data supplied him by Alvin, The

Shadow had added things that he learned in his conferences with Trone, plus observations of Turk.

Crime's goal was the Ralcott mansion, where crooks intended to cure Miss Prudence of her mania for cash

transactions. They intended to relieve her of a quarter of a million dollars, when she was ready to buy the

Behind the game was a master schemer, who planned to shift all blame on Denry Melwin.

Actual robbery would be necessary. The big brain had assigned that job to Turk Gorlon. The thrust would

have to be met within the Ralcott mansion; hence it was time that The Shadow learned the interior details of

A block from Turk's place, The Shadow stepped into a cab that was parked in convenient darkness. It was his

own cab, a special one, piloted by a driver named Moe Shrevnitz, who was one of The Shadow's secret

Telling Moe to take him to the neighborhood of the Ralcott mansion, The Shadow began an adventurous

Riding in the cab, The Shadow whispered a low laugh. Its tone carried a dry touch of humor. The Shadow

was looking into the future, considering how, some night soon, he would visit the old house as Lamont

Both would enter the place as strangers who had never been in the house before; they would be meeting Miss

Prudence Ralcott for the first time. Actually, one of those visitors Cranston would know as much about

The Shadow had a way of learning much through a single visit to a place. The Ralcott Mansion,

hugeroomed and gloomy, was the sort of house that he could rove at will, penetrating everywhere, like a

When the cab halted at a reasonable distance from the mansion, The Shadow glided to the street. Even the

sharpeyed Moe failed to observe his chief's fading departure. The flitting patch of darkness that slid across

Moe watched, as he often did, when The Shadow ventured forth. Moe thought he saw a smokiness against a

brick house front, fancied that darkness deepened momentarily below the shelter of some dilapidated steps.

But those manifestations weren't enough to account for the presence of a living form. This street was made to

order for The Shadow. Much better, Moe decided, than the lighted area in front of Turk's apartment house.

Yet, even when light was prevalent, it took real luck to catch a glimpse of The Shadow.

Acting as if he had picked up a fare, Moe drove past the Ralcott mansion and continued on his way, leaving

NOT quite entirely. Nearing the old house, The Shadow detected figures that Moe hadn't noticed. They were

stealthy, but they lacked The Shadow's own skill at keeping completely under cover.

Two men were moving across the street; from their actions, two things seemed apparent.

First, they had been here before for they picked doorways in rapid fashion. Second, they were newly

From the glimpses that he got of them, The Shadow classed the pair as chunky, about the build of the

Turk liked his gorillas to be husky, but not tall. Such was usually the way with racketeers who were

shortbuilt themselves. They dominated the thugs who worked for them, and therefore preferred to keep

If Turk had sent these men, they would certainly be trigger specialists; otherwise, Turk would have put more

There still was humor in the situation. One thing that Turk couldn't very well afford was battle in this

neighborhood. Any prelude to future crime might produce problems. Perhaps the squatty men were to watch

for The Shadow and trail him afterward. That possibility merely made it seem funnier.

Already, The Shadow had worked into a short blind alley beside the old house. Gaining finger grips and toe

holds, he was scaling a onestory wall that extended from the building. At the top he pressed closely against

Below, beyond the wall, was a little garden with trees and benches. In back of the long house, the garden

extended to the next street, where there was a rear wall, its top barbed with sharp pickets. There was a solid

Windows on the second floor were fitted with strong bars fashioned like ornamental grille work. Those on the

third floor had plain bars, with the exception of one small window, which probably belonged to a storeroom.

Few persons would have considered that window as a mode of entrance to the house. The Shadow, however,

It was easy to reach his goal by climbing at an angle, for the bars on the intervening windows were as good as

He was like a human inchworm on a large scale. Doubled against one window, he would lengthen in the

darkness and stretch to the next. Then his straightened form would double up again, pulling itself another

Reaching the window that he wanted, The Shadow huddled close to it and pried between the shutters with a

thin, strong wedge of metal. He found the bar that held the shutters, but it proved stubborn, for it was rusted.

While he was working on it, The Shadow heard the throb of a slackening car motor. Looking toward the

The man who stepped out looked frail and withery. He was carrying an umbrella, and he tested the weather

by holding his hand ahead of him. Satisfied that no stray raindrops would annoy him, the visitor moved

toward the house. Then, pausing, he stepped back to say something to the chauffeur.

Logic, not guesswork, told The Shadow that the arrival was Uriah Hebler. The Shadow knew the aged

attorney's reputation and it seemed a certainty that Miss Prudence Ralcott would be one of Hebler's clients. It

He was facing the chauffeur's window at an angle, as if his real attention were centered on the opposite side

of the street. It wasn't likely that Hebler had glimpsed the watchers posted there. The only other possibility

was that Hebler knew of their presence and was trying to make sure that they were properly on the job.

That brought an answer to the original riddle: why the squatty men were here at all. They were on hand to

New facts were linking rapidly in The Shadow's mind the very sort of facts he wanted. But they were but

part of the full story that he would like to learn. More might be gained if The Shadow witnessed Hebler's

PUTTING pressure on the wedge, The Shadow applied a strong lift to the blocking bar. It gave with a

Clutching a shutter with his hands, The Shadow missed a toe hold that he swung toward the window ledge.

Rusted hinges shrieked. They voiced their message to the street. Swung outward, The Shadow came from the

blackness of the wall; he was momentarily outlined against the dull glow of the sky beyond the garden. Then,

one foot reaching the wall, he caught himself and clung, almost completely hidden beyond the shutter.

Hebler saw the motion up above and waved his umbrella wildly. While the chauffeur was springing from the

Whether or not the lurking watchers had spied The Shadow, they certainly saw the outswung shutter. Taking

Bullets clanged The Shadow's iron shield, whistled past its edge. Even the roar of the guns carried an impact.

The blasts echoed back so sharply that they sounded like a volley fired from the house. Shifting, the gunners

Only one course could bring The Shadow through that crisis. He had to end the opposing volley in order to

swing around the shutter and reach the window before his adversaries could clip him from some new

position. They had the range and were keeping it; all they needed was a different angle.

Clinging with one hand, The Shadow whipped out an automatic with the other and fired past the edge of the

shutter. His shots were rapid, and each recoil from the .45 thrust him back against the wall. His usual

With stabbing guns as his targets, The Shadow was battering the sidewalk and the curb close to the opposing

Recognizing that The Shadow had a protective buffer against their bullets, they took the depths of basement

steps. They quit shooting as they dived; for the moment, one man alone held the field. That man was Hebler,

The Shadow took a quick swing out around the shutter; as he threw his weight to the far edge, there was a

snap above his head, as loud as any gunshot. An instant later, The Shadow was spinning in the air, clutching

Overstrained by the leverage of The Shadow's weight, the top hinge of the shutter had broken from the wall.

The shutter itself was banging down upon its human burden, threatening to mash him against the wall.

Dropping his automatic, The Shadow managed to escape immediate disaster by a remarkable contortion of

his body. Twisted upside down, he caught the edges of the shutter and managed to be on the outside as it

Dangling, hooking his feet for the narrow edge that swayed above him, The Shadow had gotten no more than

a temporary hold when the next catastrophe came. The remaining hinge had taken a full twist. It yielded, like

From the street, Hebler saw the shutter scale downward into the darkness. He glimpsed what looked like a

From the darkness came a clang like the crash of cymbals as the shutter struck the top of the alley wall.

Sounds died. Again, a lulling quiet gripped the neighborhood. It was broken by the shrill blast of a police

HEBLER'S chauffeur was banging earnestly at the door of the Ralcott mansion. Larkin opened it, poked his

head into sight and recognized the fellow. While the chauffeur was stammering that there had been trouble,

A patrolman's whistle sounded from the corner. Realizing that the police had actually arrived, the chauffeur

hurried into the house with Larkin. There, the butler hesitated; finally, he decided to bolt the door.

Miss Prudence was standing on the stairway, calm and unruffled in her usual black dress. She asked what was

"Somebody's in the garden," stated the chauffeur. "I guess he must have fallen there during the shooting. All I

saw, though" he shook his head "was a shutter falling from the side of the house."

Larkin opened a table drawer and brought out an oldfashioned revolver. He led the way through to a little

About to follow, the chauffeur heard the police hammering at the front door. He turned about, to find Miss

"Never mind," she said quietly. "Let us go into the garden with Larkin. He can answer the front door later."

Lacking a flashlight, Larkin found that searching the garden wasn't easy. Tilting his head, he listened;

He was moving toward the front wall, whispering that he could hear someone creeping in the gloom. Hebler's

Larkin paused as he spoke, but his chance of detecting stray noises was ended. A siren wailed from the rear

street; gruff voices shouted. Then men were pounding at the garden gate. Larkin headed there, telling the

Flashlights appeared the moment the gate was unbolted. A pair of uniformed policemen wanted to know

where the burglar was. Larkin pointed across the garden; they probed the space with their flashlights. The

"I saw someone!" gulped the chauffeur. "Someone... going into the house... while Larkin was opening the

"She came out here with us," replied the chauffeur. "I guess she was the person I saw go in."

"Very well," declared Larkin in an icy tone. "You may follow me, gentlemen, and let us please avoid undue

LARKIN led the way through the long hall, which echoed with the battering at the front door. Miss Prudence

was seated in the library, by the fireplace. Busy with her knitting; she turned toward Larkin as he entered.

"Answer the front door, Larkin," she ordered. "Tell our visitors that they may use the parlor."

Larkin unbolted the front door. Hebler came through with a flood of police. Larkin tried to wave them into

the parlor on the other side of the hall; failing, he put himself in the doorway of the library.

Miss Prudence rose from her chair and came over to the door. She saw Hebler and smiled.

"Good evening, Uriah," she said in her firm contralto. "Please tell me more about all this excitement."

"There was gunfire," declared Hebler. "It came from a thirdfloor window. Someone was shooting at my

Hebler hesitated, looked at his chauffeur, saw that the fellow was still halfstupefied.

"You must have heard the echoes, Miss Prudence," said Hebler, his own voice calm. "I am quite sure that all

the shots were fired from the window. Then a shutter broke loose; the man fell with it into the garden."

It was Hebler's turn to stare blankly. He heard the two policemen corroborate Larkin's statement. Then one of

"We found this in the little alleyway," he said. "The burglar must have dropped it when the shutter broke

"Why, certainly!" agreed the old lady. "Have the officers start right from here, Uriah. Larkin will point out

With that, Miss Prudence retired to her chair beside the fireplace. Larkin stepped to the center of the library,

glanced about, then gestured to the officers, indicating that the house was theirs. They started off in various

From the start, the search was systematic. Two officers went at once to the storeroom on the third floor,

calling for Larkin to come and show them the way. The others covered the ground floor, then worked

upward. Hebler was with them and insisted that they cover the stairways, so that no fugitive could sneak past

When the two groups met, midway on the second floor, it was plain that no hider could have eluded them, for

they had pried everywhere. Returning to the ground floor, they went to the cellar and gave it a through

"I was right," decided Hebler, when they gathered in the parlor. "The rogue fell with the shutter, but it must

have taken the brunt of the blow. He dropped on the near side of the wall, instead of in the garden. I was in

The officers agreed. They had thought so all along, because they had found the intruder's gun on the alley

side of the wall. A bit irked because they were so unanimous, Hebler testily insisted that the whole squad

Larkin led them out through the back door; they flooded the garden with their flashlights. Some went out

through the rear gate; the others returned to the house, politely bringing the battered shutter.

MISS PRUDENCE had laid aside her knitting. She was standing against a couch that faced toward the

fireplace. Her hands resting on the couch back, she bowed primly to each of the saluting officers as they went

While Larkin was busy with his bolts, Hebler appeared from the hallway. Stepping across the threshold of the

"I am sorry, Miss Prudence," he said soberly. "I am more than sorry. I am distressed that you should be put to

"No apologies are necessary, Uriah," returned Miss Prudence, warmly. "You have my thanks for all you did.

A glint showed in Hebler's grayish eyes. He was wondering if he had caught a note of sarcasm in Miss

"I suppose that you came to talk about those bonds again," the old lady continued. "Really, Uriah, I am too

"Very well," decided Hebler. "I merely wished to say that I have come to your opinion. If you wish to go

through with the transaction, I have no right to object. But I merely claim one privilege" his tone was canny

"The privilege is granted," returned Miss Prudence, with a genuine smile. "Good night, Uriah. Don't forget

Hebler summoned the chauffeur, and the two put Larkin to the trouble of unbolting the front door again. The

butler was still locking up when Miss Prudence heard Hebler's old limousine drive away. Larkin returned to

Larkin blinked. He went to the pantry, brought a full bottle of brandy and an empty glass. Before he could

As soon as she heard the butler clumping up the stairs with the heavy shutter, Miss Prudence seized the bottle

and the glass. Hurrying past the couch, she stopped to gaze at a figure resting there.

Close to the warmth of the crackling fire, hidden by the high couch back, The Shadow lay half conscious. His

coat collar had dropped; his hat was tilted back from his head. As Miss Prudence studied the masklike face of

A gaze of understanding passed between The Shadow and his rescuer. Producing a handkerchief, Miss

Prudence wiped a trickle of blood that crossed The Shadow's forehead. Pouring a glass of brandy, she placed

The brandy had a reviving effect. Miss Prudence poured another glassful and proffered it, but The Shadow

shook his head. Raising himself weakly on one elbow, he was slumping when Miss Prudence steadied him

The Shadow turned his head slowly toward the hallway; his eyes became puzzled. Then, from the third floor

came the poundings of a hammer: Larkin, repairing the broken shutter. The Shadow's eyes showed

Miss Prudence seated herself on the couch and reached for her knitting. Calmly, she announced:

"Yes, they have all left. No one saw me help you into the house. Nor did anyone suppose that you could be

THERE was a pause, during which The Shadow's gaze inspired the old lady to continue.

"I like to form my own conclusions," declared Miss Prudence. "I wanted to learn more before turning you

over to the police. I learned that my attorney, Mr. Hebler, is a very excellent liar. He did not know" she

"I watched him wave to men across the street, with his umbrella. I saw the shots they fired. Yet Mr. Hebler

claims that all the gunfire came from the third floor of this house. He said that I heard echoes. Faugh!"

Pausing, Miss Prudence listened, heard Larkin still at work above. She leaned toward The Shadow.

"Tell me," she said earnestly. "Who are you? Why did you come here? What reason should Mr. Hebler have

The Shadow replied. His tone had the calmness of Cranston's, though, at intervals, he paused to rest. During

Soon, she was talking, too, stating facts that fitted with the rather amazing things The Shadow told her. At the

"You must remain here tonight," she said. "I shall prepare the guest room for you. But there is more that I

The Shadow interrupted with a warning whisper. Larkin was coming down the front stairs. Miss Prudence

"I think I shall sit up awhile," she said. "It is very restful by the fire. Good night."

At the top of the stairs, the faithful Larkin paused. He thought that he had heard Miss Prudence's voice.

Her voice stopped suddenly and Larkin heard an interrupting whisper, which he mistook for a hiss from a log

Continuing to his room on the third floor, Larkin shook his head. Poor Miss Prudence, talking to herself as

she sat beside the fire. Maybe she was getting old; or perhaps it was the excitement of the evening. No, it was

No reason to worry, though. This house was safer than it had ever been before, for the police had searched it

thoroughly and found it empty of intruders. No harm could come to anyone in the old mansion; not tonight.

Larkin was right. In fact, the house was far safer than he realized. Any house would be secure when The

IT was nearly five o'clock and Denry Melwin was nervous. He wanted to get away from the office; the place

gave him the jitters. Worse today than yesterday. Each day, it seemed, was bringing him closer to a breaking

Worries had been growing on Denry ever since that evening when he had so simply settled Alvin's debts with

Denry had seen Carol that same evening; since then, he had avoided her. Guilt and misery gripped him in the

presence of her gaiety. One reason that he wanted to get away early today, was because he feared that she

would telephone him. There was another reason, too: Denry did not want to talk to Mr. Trone.

All day, Denry had managed to keep up something of a front, but the strain was telling on him.

Watching the clock that he saw from the window, Denry kept letting his fingers fidget toward his hat. He was

almost ready for a nervous grab, when there was a ring from the telephone bell at his desk.

At first, Denry ignored the call; then, noting that other employees were gazing toward him wonderingly, he

scooped up the receiver and voiced a hello. It was Carol. She wanted to know why she hadn't heard from him.

"I've been terribly tied up," lied Denry. "One conference after another, with Mr. Trone... Yes, about the bonds

that your aunt wants to buy... If I can see you later, I'll call you... I'll have to say goodby, Carol. Mr. Trone

Denry's final statement was his only true one. At that moment, Trone had peered from his office and was

beckoning to Denry. Finished with the telephone call, Denry felt a sinking sensation. He had been nervous

enough chatting to Carol over the wire. Talking to Trone, face to face, would be worse.

From behind his desk, Trone pushed a stack of unpaid bills across to Denry, along with a sheet of totals

"These all came in today," said Trone, his voice worried. "It looks as though my creditors had held a

"I couldn't mention that transaction," replied Trone, glumly: "Besides, the bonds haven't arrived yet. Senor

Muyana, the man who is bringing them, is still on his way. I'd like to know" Trone slapped the stack of

Denry began to look over the bills, trying to keep his hands from fumbling. He managed to control his voice

"It won't do," declared Trone. "Right now, I have to show a perfect credit rating, Denry. There's only one way

"All of it," interposed Trone. "With the last deposit that you made for me" he was referring to a list of

figures "the fund should total exactly sixtynine thousand seven hundred and thirty dollars. Perhaps we had

"I left the book at the bank," blurted Denry. "You see well, there was some interest "

"Ah, yes, the interest!" interrupted Trone. "Only six months, at two percent, but it will make the total more

than seventy thousand dollars. Go to the bank the first thing tomorrow morning and bring the book here,

"No; wait!" As Trone spoke, Denry felt a wild surge of hope. "Tomorrow is a holiday" Trone was looking

at a calendar "so the bank will not be open, nor will we, although I expect to come to the office. You will

BUSY gathering the stacks of unpaid bills, Trone did not notice Denry as he walked from the office. Denry's

whole motion was mechanical; he felt like a condemned murderer who had been granted a brief stay of

Fortunately, the other employees had left the outer office; they were not present to view the startling change

that had come over Denry. As for Trone, the exporter had some telephone calls to make; he did not come out

Thus Denry had time to grope for his hat and go down to the street unnoticed. By the time he was outside, an

idea had worked its way through his numbed brain. Denry had to have five thousand dollars, to make up the

shortage in Trone's bank account. There was only one person who could supply it on call. That person was

Reaching Turk's apartment, Denry found the racketeer at home, with Shank Bithlo on hand, as usual. Denry

was more collected by that time; enough so to put up a rather good front. He took the drink that Turk offered

"About that five thousand dollars I gave you, Turk," said Denry, "I was wondering if you'd lend it back to me

Turk rattled some ice in a glass; when he spoke, his tone was as cold as his drink:

"I borrowed the cash from my boss," returned Denry, "only he doesn't know it. I want to keep him from

finding it out, that's all. He's taking some funds out of the bank, and the five thousand ought to be in there.

"No go, Melwin," he said. "When I close a deal, it's closed. If you want five thousand, you'll have to find

Turk's tone intimated much. A surge of anger brought Denry to his feet. He was close to Turk, his fists raised

"I see your game!" accused Denry. "You want to frame me, like you did Alvin! You see a chance to steer me

into some more dirty work, where I'll take the risk and your yellow hide will be safe."

Shank was drawing a gun, but Turk motioned for him to put it away. Rising, Turk gestured Denry to a chair.

"Sit down and listen," advised Turk. "You've got a wrong idea about me, Melwin. I said we were pals, and

I'm going to prove it. I didn't give your brother the tough end of the job. He wanted to handle the heavy part

"I'll make you the same proposition, but I'll do the work. That ought to square us well enough. You'll get the

"It's about the old Ralcott dame," he said. "I hear she always keeps a lot of dough in the house. Right?"

His anger returning, Denry was rising again. Turk pushed him back into the chair and demanded:

Chewing his lips, Denry restrained himself. Anxious to hear Turk's full game, he nodded.

Denry shook his head, but his slow manner told much to Turk. The racketeer chuckled.

"You could spot it, I guess," he said. "All right, do it the next time you go there. Find a way to let us into the

place. We'll grab the dough and soup the safe afterward, so you won't be suspected. You'll get your cut."

"Fix it to see the old dame tomorrow night, then," suggested Turk. "Listen, guy; somebody tried to crack into

that joint only a few nights ago. The old doll will think it's the same bird, back again."

"This one won't. It will be an inside job. If anybody gets the blame, it will be the old butler. I hear the cops

are kind of suspicious about that loose shutter the other night. Old Larkin has a couple of strikes on him

OUTRAGED by the proposition, Denry felt like taking a punch at Turk, but decided it would be poor policy.

Considering himself to be a crook, Denry found it easy to talk to Turk, a man of the same ilk.

He said he would think over the proposition, but couldn't give an answer until he was sure that he would be

Leaving Turk's, Denry telephoned Carol, made an immediate appointment to meet her at the Metrolite

lounge. The cocktail hour was over; the place was almost empty. Well secluded in a booth, Denry told his

He revealed that his brother Alvin was Kid Pell. He told how Alvin had come under the influence of Turk

Gorlon. He described how he, himself, had felt Turk's pressure, and admitted his theft of five thousand

dollars belonging to Lawrence Trone. He stated why he had to replace the funds at once.

"There's the whole case," confessed Denry, mournfully. "It explains why I've been avoiding you, Carol. I'm

"Because I love you!" blurted Denry. "So much, Carol" he could feel his voice quaver "that I can't let

things go on as they are. It's not right that you should care for me, and worry about me, when I'm not worthy

"Perhaps," added Carol, "there is some way I could help you, Denry. What you have done does not matter."

"There's only one way you could help me," broke in Denry. "That would be to get five thousand dollars from

your aunt; to lend it to me, so that I could replace the funds I stole. I'd pay it back, Carol. Believe me "

Carol thrust Denry's hand away. Rising, she gazed contemptuously with blazing eyes. Her voice was

"I don't believe a word you have said!" asserted the girl. "I've heard of fortune hunters and the fantastic

stories they tell to pluck money from persons that they believe are wealthy. Your story is the most outlandish

"This talk of a brother and an evil racketeer forcing you to embezzle money to save the family name! Such

stuff is tommyrot! How amazingly it all happened: Mr. Trone trusting you to make his bank deposits, then

"Yes, I cared for you, Denry, because I thought you loved me. Knowing that your real game was to dupe me,

I can only hold you in contempt, which is all the greater because you were afraid to work for any more than a

Tossing her head at thought of such a paltry sum, Carol marched proudly from the booth, leaving Denry

staring after her, wordless. Realizing for the first time how improbable his story must have sounded, Denry

Along with his own honor, he had lost Carol's love. The double disaster was too much. Rising unsteadily, he

started out into the night, wavering, almost slumping, before he reached the door. Waiters stared at him,

wondering how a man who had entered sober could have become so drunk on nothing more than a cup of

Denry didn't care what the waiters thought. It didn't even matter what the world thought. He wasn't going

through with further crime; instead, he would take the consequences of what he had already done. He'd

confess his guilt again, tomorrow, to someone who would certainly believe him: Lawrence Trone.

The missing sum of five thousand dollars would be proof enough for Trone, and the law, too. It would be jail

for Denry afterward; then Carol would believe. If she really cared for him, she would wait until he had served

In the midst of such thoughts, Denry failed to realize that he had gone a long way toward upsetting a scheme

Nor, for that matter, did he know that he was producing complications for a being called The Shadow, who

WHEN Carol Marr left the Hotel Metrolite, she stepped into a cab and gave the driver her aunt's address. It

was in Carol's mind to have a talk with Miss Prudence Ralcott and tell her the full details of Denry's

During the cab trip, however, Carol cooled somewhat. In going over the things that Denry had said, she

True, Denry's story was fantastic. But he had named people, places, other facts in such complete fashion that

Usually, confidence men were very vague and tricky, naming persons who were out of town, and depending

Denry had mentioned that his brother Alvin had left for parts unknown, which was why Carol had suspected

the story from its outset. But his talk of Turk Gorlon and the racketeer's proposition referred to something

definitely at hand. So did Denry's mention of Trone and the shortage in the exporter's bank account.

It was Carol's turn to feel remorse. She believed again that Denry's love was genuine; that she, on the

contrary, had proven very spiteful. He had been driven to the things that he had done, while she had not. It

As she left the taxicab, Carol was determined to prove her love for Denry in a way that he could not forget.

Finding her aunt in the library, Carol chatted brightly for a while, then brought up a subject that she knew

"It would be better," declared Miss Prudence, tartly, "if you waited a few months."

"I know what you mean." Lighting a cigarette, Carol kept watching her aunt closely. "You've promised me a

lot of money fifty thousand dollars, wasn't it? if I didn't marry before I was twentyone."

"Very well." Carol blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. "You'll remember, too, that I said I didn't want a

penny of your money; that if I did wait to get married, it would be my own choice, not yours. That stands,

"It would be funny, wouldn't it" Carol's eyes were looking toward a squarish portrait "if you opened that

wall safe and counted out fifty thousand dollars, saying, 'Here, my good girl,' and handing it to me the day I

was twentyone. Really, auntie, we ought to go through the act, just for the fun of it."

"You aren't twentyone yet," returned Miss Prudence, "and there isn't fifty thousand dollars in the safe. I

"Too bad," said Carol ruefully. "Of course, my idea was just fun. But remember, auntie, if I postpone my

marriage, the money will have nothing to do with it. I've fully decided never to accept that fifty thousand."

Miss Prudence beamed. Long afflicted with a host of relatives who thought of her as nothing more than a

human moneybag, she had found Carol a remarkable exception. Carol had a small income of her own and

was quite satisfied with it. In addition, she had gone from job to job, always improving her salary.

Yes, Carol was a very independent and modern young lady, which pleased Miss Prudence immensely. But

tonight the old lady noted something different in Carol, even though her niece had repeated that she would

When Carol left, a short while later, Miss Prudence smiled. Carol's short visit and its details were something

IT chanced that The Shadow was already interested in matters concerning Carol. He was in the empty

From his high window, The Shadow could not identify the arrival; but soon afterward, the halting rumble of

Swinging over the window sill, The Shadow followed the darkened ledge to Turk's apartment.

Shank was at that moment answering a ring at the apartment door. Finding that the caller was an attractive

brunette who wanted to see Turk, Shank smirked and bowed the girl to a chair in the entry, saying that he

"A cutey outside to see you," said Shank. "She's a little doll and she looks like class. Says her name is Miss

Recollection of the name flashed itself on Turk's jaundiced features. Regaining his bland expression, he told

Entering, the girl lost no time in coming to the point. She asked Turk if he knew Denry, and when the

racketeer admitted that he did, Carol detailed everything that she had been told. Turk began to shake his head

"Too bad about Melwin," he said blandly. "He's blamed that business about his brother on me. He can't get it

through his head that the Kid took to crooked work on his own. Funny, too, because Melwin did the same

"It was his own idea, taking that cash of Trone's. I didn't know a thing about it, until he came here and

admitted it. I felt sorry for him, and asked him why he didn't get some cash from old Miss Ralcott. But my

Watching Turk, Carol studied the glassy coldness of the racketeer's eyes. She knew that the bland crook was

masking lies behind his statements. Every denial that Turk made confirmed her new belief in Denry's story.

Evidently, it was Turk's game to get people under his control; then keep his own moves hidden. Carol was

convinced, though, that it was Turk's policy to go through with anything he promised. She resolved to test

"Miss Ralcott is my aunt," announced Carol. "She has promised me a large sum of money a few months from

now. Suppose I offered to pay you back two dollars for every one you give to Denry. Would you lend him the

Turk showed a flash of eagerness; then his expression faded. He shook his head hopelessly.

"I'd like to turn five grand into ten," he admitted, "but right now I'm broke. I've paid off a lot of bookies that I

"There is eighteen thousand dollars in the wall safe at my aunt's house," she said. "Here is the combination. If

you come there tomorrow and wait by the rear gate, I shall signal you when I have opened the way through

"I shall expect you to turn over five thousand dollars to Denry Melwin. You may keep the rest, as a reward

for your trouble. If, as you claim, crime is not in your line" Carol's tone had a touch of sarcasm "you may

consider that you are merely doing me a favor, by obtaining money that would later be mine."

Turk weighed the proposition carefully. It was evident, from what Carol had told him, that Denry was not

going through with the plan that Turk had suggested. In her substitute proposal, Carol was giving Turk

opportunity to commit himself to a deed without admitting that crime was one of his usual practices.

"I'll take the blame if anything goes wrong," added Carol. "In fact, I wouldn't be able to do otherwise, if you

told your side of the story. If necessary" she spoke grimly "I shall confess my part to my aunt as soon as

the money has been taken. I doubt, however, that she would report a trifling theft of eighteen thousand dollars

"You win, lady," he said. "The way you put it, I'd just be doing you a favor. I'd go out of my way, too, to help

Melwin. He's a pal of mine. Give the flash tomorrow night, when you're ready. We'll be on deck."

CAROL left, swept by mingled emotions. She knew that she was to be a party to an actual crime, but she

justified it by the fact that she would be in the same boat as Denry. He wouldn't be able to consider himself

Nor would Miss Prudence lose by the robbery. Carol would settle that by postponing plans for an immediate

marriage, should Denry propose it. As soon as she was twentyone, she could officially refuse the money that

her aunt had offered her. That would more than make up for whatever was stolen tomorrow night.

Unfortunately for Carol's own plans, other matters were shaping themselves in a way that was to completely

nullify the girl's calculations. Soon after Carol's departure from Turk's apartment, the racketeer received a

Turk described the new setup. Denry, apparently, was out of it, with Carol replacing him.

The instructions that Turk received were the very sort that he expected. He was to see to it that Denry stayed

out of the game, which he could easily do, with Shank's aid. Carol could be handled after her part was done.

"We'll snatch the girl when we're at the old dame's house," Turk told Shank, "and take her along with us.

We'll hang on to her until the goods are pinned on Melwin. When he's been tagged, maybe we'll let her go."

From the way Turk spoke, other matters would be handled by the man higher up, so that crime's scene would

be perfectly set for the next night. This was a longawaited opportunity; one that would not be missed. Many

hands were in the game, but they would work like puppets, when the strings were pulled.

Proof of that was given a few hours later, when Uriah Hebler called at the home of Miss Prudence Ralcott, to

"I received your message, Miss Prudence," said Hebler, dryly. "I take it that you have heard regarding the

"I have," replied Miss Prudence. "Mr. Trone called me himself and said that he could see me tomorrow

"Very curious," observed Hebler, "that he should communicate so unexpectedly; and be in such haste

regarding the transaction. Up until the present, he has done nothing but delay."

"Not at all," retorted the old lady. "Mr. Trone just received word from Senor Muyana, the man who is

Smiling, Hebler gazed toward the fire. The glow gave a ruddied reflection to his parchment face and whitish

hair. Though Hebler did not realize it, the wavering light turned his smile into a Satanic leer.

"What about young Melwin?" queried Hebler. "Wouldn't it be well to invite him here for the conference?

"Denry will be here," assured Miss Prudence. "Mr. Trone was not quite sure that he would be needed, but I

"Only Mr. Cranston." Miss Prudence chuckled. "I shall look forward to meeting the gentleman who thinks

Hebler stroked his tightskinned chin. With a sidelong glance at Miss Prudence, he asked:

"You shall have to come," laughed Miss Prudence. "Tomorrow is a bank holiday, so I shall have to depend

"Yes. In cash. Mind you, I do not intend to pay that much for those bonds, if I can help it. But I prefer to be

"Of course not," returned Miss Prudence, in a severe tone. "Nor do I intend that she should. The subject is not

"Quite. I commend your discretion, Miss Prudence. I was on the point of suggesting that it would be unwise

to burden Carol with the matter. She might be worried, if she knew that so much money was in the house."

AS Hebler left the Ralcott mansion, he glanced warily across the street. His two watchdogs were missing this

evening, for Hebler had not ordered their presence, even though he felt that he might need them.

There had been too much trouble explaining the shots on the other evening. If new firing occurred, the police

There was a figure across the street, however one that even Hebler's keen eyes could not detect. As the

limousine rolled away, that shape came to life. Tall, cloaked, ghostlike in the dim light of the thoroughfare,

Soon, the door was opened, not by Larkin but by Miss Prudence Ralcott herself. The light of the vestibule

Then The Shadow was again swallowed from sight, within the walls of the great oldfashioned house!

THE telephone bell was ringing again. Moodily, Denry arose from the couch in his apartment and answered

the call. It was three o'clock in the afternoon; but this was a holiday, hence he was at home. He wondered

It was Shank who spoke across the wire. Turk's henchman used his usual ugly tone.

"Just called up to make sure of things," informed Shank. "Turk wants to know if you're keeping your lip

"Easy, guy," returned Shank. "Turk's got to play it safe. He's kind of suspicious because a couple of the boys

There was a pause; then Shank remarked, after brief consultation with someone else:

"Turk says this is your last chance. Are you going through with that Ralcott job?"

"All right, then. Turk don't mind. He says it was for your benefit. But keep his name out of it, when Trone

finds out you're crooked. If you don't" Shank's tone hardened "something may happen to somebody

The threat, Denry decided, could refer to Carol rather than Alvin. Pacing the apartment, Denry felt caged. He

wished he hadn't talked to Carol; but he was glad that she was angry and had not believed him.

Since he wasn't seeing her, Turk would soon decide that Carol really knew nothing about the case. Moreover,

Denry was sure that she wouldn't talk. His course, therefore, was simply to take his medicine when it came.

He reached for the telephone, intending to call Trone's home, then the office. He had tried both places,

without result. This time, he was due for luck. There was a ring as he lifted the telephone. Trone was on the

"Hello, Denry!" Trone's voice showed pleasure. "I hoped that you would be at home. I want you to call on

"I'll arrive there later," interrupted Trone. "I called her last night and arranged to see her. But I think you

ought to be on hand to introduce me formally or rather, Miss Ralcott appears to think so. I believe she likes

"Yes, sir." Denry's voice was desperate, when he added: "I've got to see you, Mr. Trone. It's very important.

"At the office. Only" Trone hesitated "I don't think you should go to the trouble of coming here."

"Very well, then. But come at once, Denry. I have other matters to take up, later."

TRONE was alone in the office when Denry arrived there. Before his employer had time to greet him, Denry

"I've got to tell you what I've done," he insisted. "I've embezzled money, Mr. Trone! Cash that belongs to

Trone's roundish face tilted upward, wideeyed. Its whole expression was one of disbelief.

"I took five thousand dollars," affirmed Denry, "from the last deposit in the reserve fund."

A nervous smile played on Trone's lips, as if he wanted to believe the statement to be a joke. Then, realizing

"To pay my brother's debts," returned Denry. He produced the notes that Turk had given him, laid them on

"The fault may lie with this man Gorlon, instead of yourself. If it does, he should be regarded as culpable."

"He's not a crook," insisted Denry hastily, remembering possible danger to Carol. "I'm wholly to blame, Mr.

Trone. In fact, when you get the bank book tomorrow, I think you should return those notes to me. They

won't be evidence. The bank book, compared with your figures, will prove my embezzlement."

"You've forgotten something, sir," returned Denry. "Mr. Cranston was here when we checked the figures. So

"That's so," admitted Trone. "Nevertheless, I wouldn't care to prosecute you, Denry."

He reached for a sheet of paper, passed it to Denry and pointed the young man to a typewriter.

"Make out a statement of what you have done," suggested Trone. "Then sign it and let me have it, Denry."

While Denry typed, Trone sat with his chin buried in his hand. As Trone watched Denry's face, he gave slight

clucks. Denry heard them, could detect sadness in the tone. Signing the statement, Denry handed it to his

It was a direct confession of the embezzlement; a proof that Denry was willing to accept whatever penalty his

Opening an oldfashioned safe, Trone put the confession in a tin box, along with the notes that bore the

"I still trust you, Denry," asserted Trone, "but I cannot afford to be a fool. I shall keep that confession until

"I'll start paying it, sir!" exclaimed Denry, gladly. "As soon as I can get another job. Of course, I can't ask you

Leaning back in his chair, Trone folded his hands and slowly put his view of the case.

"I had no right to put such funds into your possession," he declared. "Not even temporarily, Denry. Therefore,

I should take my share of the blame. I shall regard this confession of yours as a promissory note; nothing

"After all, it is the one way in which I can regain my money, since I never had you bonded. So run along

home, Denry" up from the desk, Trone clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder "and get some sleep,

WITH Denry gone, Trone soon had other visitors. The first was Lamont Cranston; he had received a call

from Trone, at the Cobalt Club. They had scarcely begun to chat, before a darkish, mustached man entered

The darkish man nodded. He opened a brief case that he carried, produced bundles of bonds and other

"My ship stopped at Havana," he declared in a distinctly foreign accent. "I decided to come to New York by

"I appreciate it," returned Trone. "I am glad, too, that you sent a radiogram last night. It was telephoned to my

"Certainly. So that I can pay for the goods to be exported and realize my own profit. You will intrust these

Trone gave the receipt and put the bonds in the safe, after checking over the list that Muyana brought with

him. The exporter then offered to take Senor Muyana to a hotel, after which they were to dine together.

"You will come with us, Mr. Cranston?" asked Trone. "Later, we can all call on Miss "

He caught himself, considering it inadvisable to mention the name of Miss Ralcott with Muyana present.

Though Trone intended to take Muyana with him; he had previously decided to say nothing of the

"Perhaps it would be better if I met you this evening," said The Shadow in Cranston's leisurely tone. "I shall

bring my check book with me, Mr. Trone. Should you wish to communicate with me in the meantime, I shall

Outside the building, The Shadow stepped into a cab. Moe Shrevnitz was its driver; he reported that Denry

had visited the building a while before, for Moe had been stationed there all day.

From Moe's description of Denry's dejected arrival and enthusiastic departure, it was not difficult for The

Nevertheless, The Shadow expected something more. He waited in the cab. Soon, a crablike man came

On other days, the spy had been able to walk in and out like any office worker. This being a holiday, the

After darting a look about him, Jervis took a taxi that was ranked ahead of Moe's. As soon as the cab turned

the corner, The Shadow ordered Moe to follow it. The trail led to a tall building that had a conspicuous belt of

Telling Moe to take him to the club, The Shadow smiled in Cranston's style. He had long suspected that

Uriah Hebler had a spy on duty close to Trone's office, but had refrained from seeking traces of the man,

rather than give the fellow a chance to suspect that he was being watched in turn.

Apparently, Hebler was keeping himself very well informed on matters; therefore, with the climax near, a

That move, it happened, was already on its way. Reaching the Cobalt Club, Lamont Cranston was informed

The message was from Uriah Hebler. The attorney had telephoned from his office, requesting that Cranston

The Shadow's lips still wore their smile as he strolled out to the street. Nothing could have pleased him more

THOUGH it was still daylight outdoors, dusk was present in Hebler's huge office, save close to the desk,

where a lamp flung a ring of light. Behind the massive, brassornamented desk, Hebler sat looking over

"So young Melwin embezzled money from Trone," remarked Hebler, with a dry chuckle, "to pay off a debt

that he owed to a racketeer named Gorlon. Have you any idea what might lie behind that, Jervis?"

Hebler's eyes were sharp and beady as he watched Jervis. The man shook his head; he hadn't an idea. In fact,

Jervis seldom had ideas. He was paid not to have them, except in a mechanical way.

"Not from my files! The police make it their business to keep check on known crooks of Gorlon's type. I

never bother with such data, except when it directly concerns any clients. After tonight, Jervis, we may have

"Not yet. Perhaps not at all. We shall wait and see if Mr. Cranston comes here. He may be able to supply

Ten minutes later, Jervis reappeared, accompanied by Cranston. Ordering Jervis back to his post, Hebler

shook hands with the visitor and invited Cranston to have a chair at the opposite side of the great desk.

Hunched in his own chair, Hebler let his cold gray eyes meet the steady gaze of The Shadow.

"I would like to ask, Mr. Cranston," began Hebler, "why you have taken an interest in the business affairs of

"You are misinformed," was Cranston's calm reply. "It happens that Miss Ralcott and I are separately

"But Trone offered those bonds to Miss Ralcott, whereas you deliberately sought him out and took up the

"You are again inaccurate, Mr. Hebler. I went to see Trone regarding some exports. He happened to mention

Hebler's lips formed a wry curve. Cranston's memory was as good as the reports brought by Jervis. Finding

that he couldn't trip up his visitor, Hebler shifted to a different style of attack.

"A few nights ago," he said, "an intruder tried to enter the Ralcott mansion. I saw the man; he was a

"I read of the incident," returned the calmtoned Mr. Cranston. "But the police received no description of the

"They might not have believed it. They would probably have doubted my eyesight."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hebler, if the police had believed it, you would have lost a very good alibi."

"You claimed that you saw no one across the street. If any chance passer had reported the men who were

actually there, you could have resorted to only one claim, Mr. Hebler; namely, that your eyes were poor, not

Instead of being stunned by Cranston's statement, Hebler was elated. He thought that he had tricked his

visitor into making the admission. Cranston, as Hebler suspected, was the masquerader who had scaled the

Resting his scrawny hands on the desk, Hebler crouched forward, tilting his head upward. His eyes had a

"According to reports," chuckled Hebler, "The Shadow is opposed to crime. Assuming that The Shadow was

the intruder at the Ralcott house, we could suppose that the men who fired at him were mobsters, could we

"This would be more sensational," declared Hebler. "Suppose the world should learn that The Shadow had

engaged himself in crime; that he was unable to prove that any crooks were present, except himself "

AS he paused, then hissed the name, Hebler was letting one bony hand creep toward the desk edge. Instantly,

a change took place in Cranston. He became the person that Hebler had accused him of being; at least in

Before Hebler's fingers could crawl another inch, The Shadow had whipped out an automatic. Leaning across

the desk, he poked the gun muzzle between Hebler's eyes, gave a lowtoned command for the lawyer to raise

Tilted back in his chair, Hebler snarled. He threw a frantic glance toward the push button that he hadn't been

able to reach. He heard a whispered tone, ready to begin accusations that would reveal every link in the chain

"It is your turn to listen, Hebler," spoke The Shadow. "Make no move to bring the men who aided you the

other night. They shall remain where they are, behind the filing cabinets in the other office, until "

Hebler made a noisy interruption, by letting his weight go back into the swivel chair. He swung his knees

apart to catch the sides of the desk, and with that move, a strange thing happened.

There was a sharp click from the front of the desk. Catches, loosened by the strokes from Hebler's knees,

released a wide, ornamental strip of brass. Splitting in the center, two rods whipped upward between The

They were powerful coil springs, those mechanical snares that Hebler had unleashed. One hooked The

Shadow's right forearm, flung it aside so powerfully that the gun sailed from its owner's fist.

The other spring caught The Shadow's left wrist above the hand that was leaning on the desk top. It took The

Entangled in a pair of spiral handcuffs, his arms spread far apart, The Shadow writhed helpless, while Hebler

jabbed the push button on the desk. Yanking the top drawer open, the lawyer was grabbing for a gun of his

Hurling his weight entirely to the right, The Shadow was letting that spiral spring tighten, so that its own

strength, plus his weight, would nullify the other. The strain on his shoulders was terrific, but they seemed

A twist, and Cranston's figure wrenched free from the binding on the left. Whirled by the tightening coil on

the right, he swung hard against the desk, sped his left hand for a second gun, which he threatened to have in

Two sturdy men came hurtling from the door, flung themselves upon Cranston. Four hands on his arm were

Still clamped on the right, The Shadow managed to writhe his body about, like a thing on a hinge, in an effort

Fists slugged hard against his chin. Punched about, he took a sideward sprawl toward the desk. His foot

Then The Shadow was dangling almost to the floor, senseless, with his right hand still hooked above him by

"With a chuckle, Hebler put away his revolver. He nodded approvingly to the hardfaced men who had won

"Get him out of that thing, Cady," ordered Hebler. "You bring the rawhide, Belk. Tie him so he will never get

loose, and put him in the next room. What we shall do with him" Hebler's eyes flashed keen expectancy

LEAVING The Shadow to the anythingbuttender mercies of the thuggishlooking pair, Hebler took his

umbrella from a stand in the corner and left the office. He met Jervis at the entrance of the fourstory suite,

"I have ordered the armored limousine," Hebler told Jervis. "We shall stop at the bank, get Miss Ralcott's

funds from safe deposit, and proceed to the house. Although it is a holiday and the bank closed, I made

special arrangements that will permit me to go there and get the money. We shall dine with Miss Ralcott, and

The armored limousine was waiting out front; it looked like an ordinary car of heavy build. But Hebler's look

was anything but ordinary when he stared through the thick bulletproof windows up toward his high offices.

The light of crafty pleasure glowed upon Hebler's withery face, as he reviewed the swiftly executed stroke

WHILE Denry had been gaining sympathy from Trone, and The Shadow meeting disaster at the hands of

Carol had come to her aunt's house early; too early, as she was to realize. Arriving at three o'clock, the girl

had experienced pangs of mental torture as time passed by, until at present, with the big grandfather's clock

Part of the time, her aunt had been with her in the library. Their conversation had been pleasant, but all during

it Carol felt the scrutiny of eyes that she feared she could not deceive. The remarks that Miss Prudence made

Sometimes her aunt spoke of money; again, of Denry. She mentioned the excitement caused by the burglar a

At times, Carol shuddered and was afraid her aunt detected it. Whenever Miss Prudence was out of the room,

Carol was alone again, and her nerves were frayed. Crumpling in her chair, she choked back soundless sobs.

She was determined to go through with her plan to aid Turk's robbery, much though she hated it, for it

Carol knew that if she asked Miss Prudence for money she would get it, but there would be a

crossexamination with it. In her present state, she would never be able to hold back the facts. Should she tell

the truth about Denry, she would never be able to marry him. Miss Prudence would prove powerful enough to

It seemed that evening would never come. It wasn't yet dusk, and Carol's endurance was exhausted. Her only

hope was to get to her room; perhaps by the time she had dressed for dinner, her calm would have returned.

Hurrying out to the stairway, Carol started up to the second floor. At the top she met her aunt, waiting for her.

"I knew you would be up here soon," declared Miss Prudence. "Your old auntie knows just what the trouble

"Of course! You have a chill. It's been getting worse all afternoon. That's why I told Ellen to prepare a hot

Ellen was the housekeeper. She was waiting in Carol's room when they arrived. Striving to hold back her

sobs, Carol started to argue that she wasn't ill; then, realizing that she was only making her predicament

Meanwhile, Ellen was helping her undress. By the time Carol managed to collect her wits, it was too late to

protest. She was lacking clothes as well as arguments, and Ellen was helping her into the bathtub.

Finding herself literally in hot water, Carol stared hopelessly toward the other room, where Ellen was

As she soaked, Carol had a real idea. She gave a grateful smile when Ellen came in with a towel. She let the

housekeeper help her into a nightie and tuck her into bed. But as soon as Ellen was gone, Carol kicked away

Below lay the garden. When darkness settled, Carol could reach it by the back stairs. She would wear her

slippers and kimono for the expedition, and blink the flashlight after she unlocked the gate. Then she would

be back upstairs and in bed again, with no one a bit wiser. Playing ill was a perfect alibi.

Waiting was the only nuisance; a worse ordeal than the former. Fearing that her aunt or the housekeeper

would soon return, Carol couldn't risk putting on a kimono or lighting a cigarette. She was fuming at the

DIVING into bed, Carol was safely there when Miss Prudence entered, bringing a glass of medicine.

Pretending that she was half asleep, Carol slowly raised her head. The medicine tasted horrible, but the girl

Dropping her head to the pillows, she pretended to be half asleep again, while her aunt tiptoed about the room

When Miss Prudence left, Carol did not stir. She felt drowsily comfortable, and decided to stay that way for a

Miss Prudence closed the door, met Ellen, who was carrying a small empty bottle and had a worried look

"Pardon, Miss Prudence," whispered the housekeeper, "but you didn't give Miss Carol this sleeping medicine,

"Of course not, Ellen," interposed Miss Prudence with a smile. "It was empty, so I did not put it back an the

Downstairs, Larkin was admitting Hebler and Jervis. Miss Prudence met them, took a small satchel which the

lawyer carried. It contained bank notes of thousanddollar denominations, two hundred and fifty of them.

After dinner was over, they retired to the library, where Hebler, for the first time, asked about Carol.

"I thought, your niece was to be here," he said. "She usually spends her holidays with you, Miss Prudence."

"Carol went to bed," replied the old lady. "She was tired and a bit ill. So when she asked to be excused from

dinner, I was rather pleased. I preferred that she should be elsewhere when our callers came."

"Of course," agreed Hebler, promptly. "The less persons who know about your transactions, the better."

When Denry arrived, Miss Prudence introduced him to Hebler. Denry tried to restrain his impression of

In fact, had Denry known that Turk Gorlon was working for a brainy supercrook, he would have picked

Hebler as the man, at once. Nor did Denry care for Jervis. The fellow struck him as a firstclass pussyfoot.

Until Trone appeared, Denry supposed that his employer would be merely making an introductory visit. But

Introduced to the darkish man, noting the fat brief case that he carried, Denry was struck with the startling

Denry could feel the sweat that moistened his forehead. What a close shave it had been! Had he gone through

with the plan that Turk Gorlon had suggested, he would have let the racketeer in on a quartermilliondollar

It would be easy to face Trone after this, without feeling like an utter cad. By fighting off Turk's offer, Denry

had saved Trone far more than a mere five thousand dollars, since Trone's bonds would probably intrigue

Denry was wondering, though, if Turk had somehow learned of tonight's deal. He finally decided that Turk

The real truth never occurred to Denry. Crooks had simply dropped him as an aid because they had found a

better one. Carol knew very little about the bonds; therefore, would be less apt to suspect changed

Belonging in the house, she could also find it easier to admit Turk and his mob. As for Denry, crooks figured

Such was the game to which Miss Prudence had added a fine point. She was smiling when Trone began to

produce the bonds. Miss Prudence had promised The Shadow that she would eliminate Carol from the

IT happened, however, that Miss Prudence did not glance at Hebler while a brief smile was flickering upon

the attorney's dryish lips. Hebler was thinking of a very neat point that he, in his turn, had handled.

He had fixed matters so that tonight's events would not be interrupted by a very disturbing personage called

It was time for Miss Prudence's next step. As Trone began to spread the bonds, she offered the suggestion:

"Why not wait for Mr. Cranston? I would very much like the privilege of bidding against him."

"I intend to wait for him," returned Trone, "since you are willing, Miss Ralcott. But, of course, if you are

Hebler began to pretend impatience. He suggested that Miss Prudence begin negotiations at once.

"I'll call the Cobalt Club," he said, "and see if Cranston has started. By the way, Miss Prudence, I have made

Stepping to the deep hallway, Hebler made his phone call, but it wasn't to the Cobalt Club. He called his

office, learned from Cady that Cranston was still helpless, with Belk keeping close guard over him. Returning

"Cranston has left the club. He has been gone at least a quarter hour, I understand. That should give him time

"In a few minutes," decided Miss Prudence, firmly. "First, I must go upstairs and see how Carol is. You may

Leaving the library, Miss Prudence paused below the stairway. She knew how Carol was sound asleep

without even bothering to look. Miss Prudence had something else on her mind; but first, she was considering

He had told her that he would come as Cranston; then leave early, to become The Shadow. But there was one

thing which wasn't quite clear to Miss Prudence, who had very many matters on her mind. She wondered how

Of course, The Shadow would be able to manage it, even if he had to forego his promise to Trone. But it

struck Miss Prudence that he must have changed his plan; that he intended to remain outside of the house

What convinced her of that was Hebler's phone call. Not knowing of Hebler's meeting with Cranston, she

She took it for granted, therefore, that The Shadow must actually be outside, wishing that she would go ahead

Determinedly, Miss Prudence decided to go ahead with the final move on her wellarranged schedule.

Stepping into a small room behind the library, she reached among black garments on a closet shelf, pushed

Stealthily, she went out through the deserted kitchen, reached the garden gate and unbolted it. Then followed

Through the crack of the gate, Miss Prudence blinked the flashlight. She was giving the signal that Carol was

The thing was a paradox, but there was a reason. By taking Carol's place, Miss Prudence had relieved her

niece from blame; besides, the old lady was giving the signal at what she thought was the proper time. It was

Returning to the house, the old lady left the back door unlocked, like the garden gate; that, too, was in accord

Unfortunately, Miss Prudence had overstepped herself, as The Shadow had done earlier at Hebler's. She had

flashed her signal too soon. The way was open for crooks who would arrive before The Shadow could

BOUND hand and foot upon a heavy couch in an office adjoining Hebler's, The Shadow had heard the call

that the attorney made to Cady. It had started a switchboard buzzing in another office. Cady had gone in

In speaking to Hebler, Cady made one inaccurate statement. He said that Belk was in another office,

watching Cranston. That wasn't quite the case. Belk had come to join Cady while the latter was talking to

The call finished, both had gone into Hebler's big private office. The Shadow could scarcely hear them, for

they had closed the intervening door, just as they had shut the portal to the office where the switchboard was.

Probably they were talking over Hebler's call. Whatever they were doing, they were giving their prisoner an

Writhing on the couch, The Shadow tried to slip the rawhide thongs that bound him. The effort brought

crackles to his aching head. Senseless when his captors bound him, The Shadow had been unable to fight for

He was getting results, though. With an effort that nearly wrenched his shoulder from its socket, he pulled his

left hand free. There, his luck ended. His left arm was still tight above the elbow; his right wouldn't budge at

Thongs that cut across his neck threatened to choke him, if he twisted. Shifting his left forearm, The Shadow

felt knots with his fingers and plucked at them. Given five minutes, he might get those thongs untied. But it

They were due at any moment. The Shadow could hear their mumbles just beyond the door. Being

weaponless; he was faced with the prospect of lying helpless for a long while to come, unless he could find

Moving his hand along his side, The Shadow tried to find knots that he could work on secretly while being

Working his hand rapidly upward, The Shadow felt the table top, hoping to find something useful. The only

thing that his hand encountered was a telephone. He gripped the standard of the instrument, held it for a few

moments. Then, clearing his throat with a low, whispered laugh, The Shadow acted upon a sudden

He pulled the telephone toward him, tilted it, so that the receiver fell from the hook and landed close to his

ear. From another room, he caught the very muffled buzz that came from the switchboard.

Cady and Belk heard it, too. Instead of coming into the room where The Shadow lay bound, Belk went to the

The Shadow could hear Belk call to Cady: "What do I do plug in where the light is?"

From Hebler's office, Cady responded in the affirmative. He strolled on in to learn what the call was about.

"Hello!" The Shadow's tone was a perfect imitation of Hebler's crisp voice. "Is that you, Belk?"

KEEPING his mouth close to the phone so the sound of his voice would not carry, except across the wire,

"Matters here are shaping oddly, Belk," announced the pretended Hebler, "but very much to our advantage. It

"You can't do that!" he retorted. "It may queer everything. Who's going to make trouble, anyway, now that

"Young Melwin is here. From the way he acts, I think that Cranston reached him. I am suspicious of Larkin,

"Cady said you needed a couple more of us," growled Belk in angry interruption. "It's bad stuff, not having

"Enough of such talk, Belk!" The Shadow's interjection was a replica of Hebler's harshest tone. "I am the one

who gives orders. I handled the police before and am quite competent to do so again."

"I do not intend to call them. Send Cady out at once. Instruct him to give a tipoff to headquarters, saying

that there is trouble at the Ralcott house. If he makes his call from a pay station" The Shadow supplied one

Pressing his thumb against the hook, The Shadow heard the buzz from the switchboard. It ended as Belk

The ruse had worked. Belk and Cady had decided that the call was actually from Hebler. Cady had started out

Not many minutes had passed between Hebler's real call and The Shadow's fake one. If Miss Prudence had

acted too hastily, the police might still reach the house before Turk's mob made its getaway. Through that

clever inside call, The Shadow was actually using one of Hebler's own workers, Cady, to summon the law to

But the police wouldn't be enough. In pretending that he was Hebler, The Shadow had naturally made the call

a brief one, sparing any details that might have made Belk and Cady suspicious. Cady would simply tell the

police that there was trouble at the house. Not expecting to find a mob, the officers might bungle matters

It was imperative that The Shadow reach the house ahead of them. He believed that he could do it. Another

reason why he had sent Cady out was because the fellow's absence could assist The Shadow's own escape.

He was working on a knot at his neck, had it half untied, when Belk came in a minute later. The Shadow let

his free hand drop beside him. His forearm dangling over the couch side, he gripped the telephone, which he

Through halfclosed eyes, The Shadow watched Belk approach. The squatty man saw the loosened knot at

The Shadow's neck, took a quick glance elsewhere and spied the prisoner's left arm, drooping free beyond the

With a sharp oath, Belk shoved forward, pulling a gun as he came. He made a freehand grab for The

Belk was copying Cranston's mistake of a few hours ago. Just as The Shadow had pushed too far across

Hebler's desk, so did Belk thrust forward too rapidly. The Shadow's fist came up with the same piston speed

of the brass coils on Hebler's desk. The fist wasn't empty. It brought the telephone with it.

That swing was restricted to The Shadow's forearm, but his muscles supplied the power of a jab. The sweep

had leverage; his loosening fingers let the telephone ride like a weight launched from a catapult. Belk was

aiming his gun downward, but he never had a chance to fire it, even if he had so chosen.

Hooking the squatty man half beneath his outthrust chin, the telephone seemed to jar Belk's jaw up into his

face. His hands flew up as he reeled backward. The revolver scaled to the wall and rebounded, to fall beside

WORKING at the loosened knot, The Shadow finished it inside another minute. With his neck free, he

squirmed about, got at the knots on the right with his left fingers and his teeth. Both arms freed, he worked

Belk hadn't moved. There was no use wasting time in tying him. Locking the doors of the room, The Shadow

pocketed the keys. Armed with Belk's gun, he hurried down through the darkened offices, to reach the outlet

The Shadow counted on meeting Cady outdoors, thus saving time; but the fellow had made a quick return. As

The Shadow reached an elevator outside Hebler's office entrance, the door slid open.

Cady, stepping out, saw Cranston, made a rapid reach for a gun. The Shadow clamped his left fist on Cady's

right wrist, stopping the coming aim. Shoving his right arm over Cady's right, The Shadow hooked it beneath

An astonished elevator operator saw Cady's squatty form go flying through the air, to land face forward on

the tiled floor. There was a blast from Cady's gun; all it did was slam a bullet into the wall. Then Cady was

As for a gun, The Shadow still had Belk's and was pressing it against the elevator man's ribs. In Cranston's

calm tone, he told the operator to haul Cady's slumped figure into Hebler's offices.

There, The Shadow locked both men in a darkened room that was cramped for space because of many filing

Taking the elevator to the lobby, The Shadow made a rapid exit to the street. He saw Moe's cab parked across

the way and made for it. Moe, in his turn, was overjoyed to see Cranston. He had come back here just on a

Apparently, The Shadow hadn't expected any trouble when he went to see Hebler that afternoon. Therefore,

he had left no instructions for his agents. They Moe and others were to be needed later, when The

Shadow sent word through his contact man, Burbank. Since no zero hour had been set for this evening,

Nevertheless, Burbank had approved Moe's return to Hebler's building. As a result, The Shadow was saving

precious minutes in his trip to the Ralcott mansion, for Moe was eating up the blocks in hungry style. There

But crime could be ahead of both. In fact, by now, it was already there. Swift though The Shadow's escape

Despite The Shadow's welllaid plans, twists of circumstance had changed the odds, making them heavily in

Death might strike down helpless victims in the Ralcott mansion before they could receive protection through

CROOKS had already taken over the Ralcott mansion. Creeping inward, Turk and his picked crew of

mobbies sprang a perfect surprise when they invaded the library. From the broad doorway, Turk's command

Looking about the group, Turk gave a leer at the faces he saw. Flickers from the firelight made the racketeer's

complexion appear more yellowish than ever. His look was murderous as he turned toward each man in turn.

At first, he studied faces as though he had never seen them before. He eyed Uriah Hebler, whose withered

face was agape. The lawyer quailed when Turk made a gun gesture; so did Jervis. Sneering, Turk turned to

Lawrence Trone was half seated at the table, gripping the edge with trembling hands. Turk could see the

exporter's fingers move itchily toward the bonds. Stepping forward, Turk made as if to smash the fingers with

his gun. Trone sagged back in his chair, bringing his hands up. Beside him, Senor Muyana copied the move.

Turning at last toward Denry, Turk relaxed his leer, gave a slight, but wise, nod. It was enough to brand

Denry in the eyes of honest witnesses. Hebler gave emphasis to Turk's nod by sidemouthing to Jervis:

Jervis undertoned a "Yes, sir," that meant he would testify later as to the token of Denry's treachery.

Viewed by various eyes, Denry looked guilty. He couldn't help it, for he was overwhelmed with

bewilderment. Unable to fathom the mystery of how Turk had entered the house, Denry was recalling his

own interview with the crook and feeling that, in some way, he was actually to blame.

As it dawned on him that he would be framed, anyway, he tried to stiffen his expression. Denry's attempt at

Shank arrived, prodding Larkin with a gun muzzle. For a moment, Denry had a flash of suspicion regarding

the butler; then it faded. The horrorstruck look on Larkin's face was one that couldn't have been faked.

"Can't you count?" demanded Turk. "Look around. The old doll ain't here; neither is her niece."

Savagely viewing the prisoners, Turk demanded some information regarding Miss Ralcott. No one spoke,

until Turk gestured his gun at Hebler in businesslike style. It was then that Jervis weakened, afraid for his

"Miss Ralcott went upstairs," whined Jervis, "to see her niece, who is ill in bed."

"Get out into the hall," Turk told Shank. "Keep watching the stairs. Cover the old dame when she comes

SHANK followed orders. Posting his other mobbies so that they held all prisoners properly covered, Turk

went directly to the picture that hid the wall safe. With a side glance at Denry, the crook began to turn the

To Denry's amazement, it worked. The safe came open; Turk brought out big bundles of bills and carried

There, he thumbed the currency, noting its amount. He stacked Trone's bonds in a separate pile, intending to

take them also. But even with a quarter million in cash and an equal amount in securities that might possibly

Returning to the safe, he fished around and found the eighteen thousand dollars that Carol had mentioned.

Turk stuffed that cash into his coat, remarking that he would use it as pocket money.

The actual robbery hadn't taken long. Unless Turk chose to delay, he would be gone well before his flight

could be blocked. But Turk was still thinking about Miss Prudence and Carol. Back at the table, he was

A harsh tone interrupted. It was a strange chortle, that sounded sinister above the ceaseless crackle from the

fireplace. Turk gazed angrily about, wondering who had supplied that challenging croak. He didn't even

realize the direction that it had come from, until he saw one of his mobbies stare.

The fellow was looking toward the back of the library. His eyes bulged as he spoke a name through

Curtains had parted in the rear wall. Between their draping folds stood the figure that all crooks feared.

Firelight reflected the burn of boring eyes beneath the lowered brim of a slouch hat. The upturned collar of a

Ominous as the eyes was the muzzle of a .45 automatic that projected from a gloved fist. That gun was on the

move, coolly swinging from one crook to another, threatening all. Mobbies found their hands frozen on their

Turk, whose own revolver was back in his pocket, felt his fingers slip from the money that he gripped. He

But the gun moved elsewhere. It was bearing upon the crooks who already held weapons, gesturing them to

drop their guns. A revolver clanked the floor; then another. Tuned to that music came a low, triumphant laugh

Denry wanted to scoop up one of the fallen guns. He hesitated, realizing that The Shadow like others

might consider him an ally of the crooks. He looked eagerly about, hoping that others would spring to The

Trone was still sagged in his chair; his trembling fingers seemed more anxious to reclaim the bonds than to

grab for a gun. Muyana was making similar gestures, though farther from the table. Jervis was hopelessly out

of things; he looked about ready to collapse. Larkin might have been a help, but he was too distant and

The one man who might have helped was Uriah Hebler, but the lawyer did not make a move. He was staring

Denry wondered what had come over Hebler. He thought the lawyer would consider The Shadow's arrival as

Actually, Hebler was too amazed to budge. He was positive that The Shadow lay prisoner in his own offices.

It was impossible that he could have arrived here so soon, that cloaked invader, even if he had broken loose

from Cady and Belk. At least, so Hebler calculated, and the lawyer usually figured minutes to the fraction.

There could only be one answer: Lamont Cranston was not The Shadow. That solution was no comfort to

Hebler. It convinced him that he had been tricked; that The Shadow had sent Cranston to fool him. If so,

ANOTHER revolver hit the floor. Crooks were cowering as the swinging muzzle veered. Then, at the

moment when their disaster seemed a certainty, one man had the boldness that was needed for their rescue.

He was creeping in from the hallway, hoping to flank The Shadow. The eyes above the gun muzzle were

Shank's hand came up, bringing its revolver. He lunged, hoping to blast The Shadow from close range. Denry

Instantly, there came a demonstration worthy of The Shadow's prowess. Wheeling amid the curtains, the

cloaked gunner aimed pointblank for Shank and pressed the gun trigger while the crook was still on the

Shank jolted upward; his own shot whistled through the curtains. Then, sprawling forward, the crook hit the

floor, an inert corpse. A bullet straight to Shank's heart stood as a token of The Shadow's power to deliver

THE prompt stroke that felled Shank Bithlo should have ended crime's progress; in fact, it would have,

While the last of the mobbies were staring at Shank's sprawling form, letting their guns drop at sight of their

Turk saw something more amazing than Shank's finish. He witnessed the end of The Shadow!

The recoil of the .45 was powerful. It took a strong hand to manage so large an automatic with precision,

particularly after a shot had been fired. Such handling was one of The Shadow's specialties, but on this

Turk saw the gun kick upward like a mule's hoof. Totally unmanaged, it jarred its handler backward. One

gloved hand grabbed for a curtain; the other, gripping the gun, swept backward and struck the brim of the

Turk saw the face beneath, just as the cloaked form staggered back beyond the curtains. He knew those

features weren't The Shadow's. With a triumphant snarl, he yanked his own revolver and lunged forward,

He swept away the curtains as he sprang. Beyond them, mobbies saw the face of Miss Prudence Ralcott,

above the disarrayed collar of the black cloak. They forgot that with her masquerade, she had been capable

enough to beat Shank to the shot. They grabbed for their guns, intending to follow Turk.

Men fell upon them. Denry, anxious to redeem himself, was the first to charge. Seeing his move, everyone

else pitched into the fray. But thugs proved savage, even though they didn't have their guns.

While one slugged at Denry, another spilled Larkin. With the aged servant out of it, Denry found himself

Others were bowling Trone and Muyana back into their chairs. Hebler made a great show, that lasted for

three seconds; then he tripped over Jervis and both went scrambling to a corner. They grabbed at guns, but

Wresting from his two assailants, Denry drove after Turk. He saw the racketeer trip over a curtain, and it was

Again, Miss Prudence was the first to aim; she had both hands on the gun, to control it. Turk pitched

downward just as the gun blasted. The bullet whined past his head and mashed against the fireplace.

The recoil threw Miss Prudence half about. She was in the little room, and she managed to hustle toward the

Denry bowled over one crook and spoiled the fellow's shot. The other halted, aimed for Denry's rolling

The shot clipped the crook who aimed at Denry, but the kick of The Shadow's .45 bounced the frail old lady

out into the hall. Grabbing at the slouch hat that was falling from her shoulders, Miss Prudence made a futile

By that time, Turk was on his feet again, yelling for some of his crew to go around by the hall.

MISS PRUDENCE had managed one thing very successfully. She was drawing the whole mob in her own

direction. Cutting through the little room, Turk reached the hallway, saw that the entire lot were behind him,

He shouted for a few to go back and cover the prisoners. By that time, it was too late. Someone had clicked

off the library lights. In the darkness, Denry grabbed at an entering thug; the two of them reeled into another

The big couch cut off the glare of the dying firelight. Milling figures were being carried toward the hall. Guns

were shooting; who was handling them, Denry didn't know, but the shots were directed mostly toward the

In the hallway, Turk spotted Miss Prudence beyond the stairs. She was gone into the kitchen as the racketeer

fired. Taking up the trail, Turk was followed by a handful of mobbies, all bent on avenging a pair of fallen

Miss Prudence must have heard that shout just when she reached the back door. Stopping on the threshold,

she gave another laugh. She put a deepness into that contralto tone; it carried a mockery of its own, though it

Crooks out in the garden weren't in a mood to make distinctions, particularly when Miss Prudence opened

fire from the kitchen steps. Back against the house wall, she took the jolting recoils, even though they sagged

Shots answered, wildly fired, for lurking crooks were taking to cover, thinking that they faced The Shadow.

They didn't like the cramped quarters of the garden; they wanted to be on the move. As a result, their hasty

Again, Miss Prudence was learning one secret of The Shadow's prowess. The chill that crooks received at

sight of a cloaked marksman in action was one reason why The Shadow could take chances in open battle.

Miss Prudence had taken enough chances. She had been living up to The Shadow's name, instead of her own.

She dashed for the garden gate, holding the hat to her head, clutching the cloak that was falling from her

Mobsters kept shooting at the kitchen door; the sound of their shots drowned Miss Prudence's scurry through

the darkness. Turk, coming up, jabbed shots to make himself known. Guns stopped their fire; Turk heard the

creak of the gate. Like Miss Prudence, he had used his final shot; but that didn't matter.

Bounding for the gate, Turk was followed by Denry, who came with a surge of mobbies. Denry had grabbed

up a gun; temporarily, Turk's tribe mistook him for one of themselves. As they dropped for cover, intending

IN the vague gloom at the opened gate, Denry saw Turk yanking at the cloak with one hand, swinging a gun

He warded off the gun blow, although his intervention wasn't needed. Miss Prudence had twisted clear of the

Denry saw her silvery hair as the slouch hat left her head. Miss Prudence had stumbled; she seemed to be

stooping to regain the lost garments. Turk was turning, hoping to take another swing, when Denry aimed his

Twisting, Turk sledged sidewise with his revolver as Denry fired. Cuffed against the side of the face, Denry

reeled. His shot had gone wide. Jarred by the blow that he had taken, he couldn't seem to get a grip on his

He was on his hands and knees, his head swimming, when flashlights suddenly appeared. They came from

A cloaked figure was rising again to meet Turk Gorlon. Denry heard the racketeer's raucous guffaw as a hand

swung a gun toward him. Turk flung his own arm sideward to beat away Miss Prudence's feeble fist. He was

But the frail hand did not falter. Its swing had power. Somehow, it couldn't have been frail at all, unless

Turk's warding arm had suddenly weakened. The weight of the swinging gun drove Turk's arm past his head.

As Turk sprawled, the blackcloaked figure swung about, brandishing two guns, not one. From hidden lips

came a strident mockery, all the more taunting because of its comparison with the imitation that crooks had

With that mirth, big automatics talked. Fully loaded, they had perfect targets: the flashlights that Turk's

reserve crew handled in such open fashion. The lights went flying, grounded like stricken fireflies, as bullets

Again, mobsters had picked the wrong Shadow. They had mistaken the imitation for the real, and had

suffered somewhat as a consequence. This time, they had mistaken the real for the imitation, and the result

It wasn't Miss Prudence Ralcott that they faced at present. It was The Shadow, arriving in person, ready to

THE flowery space in back of the Ralcott mansion had been the scene of many lovely garden parties, but

never such a one as this. Buds weren't sprouting; guns were. They sent their fiery blooms from the mouths of

Miss Prudence was beyond the gate where The Shadow had thrust her, after claiming his cloak and hat. Using

spare guns that he had brought from Moe's cab, the cloaked fighter was weaving across the garden, jabbing

The bursts that answered him were hopeless. Crooks couldn't keep tabs on The Shadow's zigzags in the

darkness. Open ground was the best shelter in such blackness, for one who could fade and shift as could The

In their turn, crooks were trapped. Their shots gave them away. Ranged along the walls, they could change

position only in a lateral direction; when they reached corners, they were cooped up. Some tried to fire from

crouched postures, but found that hyacinths and marigolds made very poor entrenchments.

They broke for the gate, found it the only spot where shots did not pursue them. Miss Prudence was gone, but

The Shadow knew that Denry was thereabouts, and was making due allowances. Besides, crooks weren't

As they bounded to the street, those remnants of a crippled mob heard whistles shrill a welcome. Spotlights

burned suddenly from arriving patrol cars. Down the street, thugs saw Miss Prudence waving on a squad of

His senses back again, Denry found a flashlight on the ground. He pressed its switch, looked for Turk Gorlon.

Turk couldn't have fled by the gate. He must have crawled along the path toward the house, luckily passing

The Shadow. Swinging the flashlight toward the kitchen door, Denry saw The Shadow entering the house.

Wildly, Denry flashed the light about, found a gun and grabbed it up. Speeding into the house, he saw The

Shadow moving toward the front hallway, warily keeping to gloom's fringes in case of lurking crooks.

He looked about, saw a door and opened it. His guess was right; it was the way to the back stairs. Reaching

the second floor, Denry heard voices from a door that stood ajar. Approaching, he looked into a bedroom.

Turk was facing the bed, holding a leveled gun. Carol was sitting upright, her eyes wide. She looked as if she

had awakened from a heavy sleep; but the rattle of guns, Turk's arrival in her room, had completely roused

"Don't try to bluff me," he was snarling. "You went through with it, all right. I'm here, ain't I?"

"Forget it then," sneered Turk. "Maybe you walked in your sleep! It don't make no diff. You're in the racket,

"Oh, no?" Turk's tone was ferocious. "Listen, cutey. The cops are outside, and The Shadow's inside. What

"It means a lot to me," asserted Turk. "They won't try to clip me if I've got you with me. Come along!"

GRABBING a slender wrist, Turk hauled Carol's nightgowned figure from the bed. The girl gave a scream as

the crook swung her for the door. Full about, Turk saw Denry charging in from the doorway. Denry didn't

That was why Denry delayed his shot; he wanted to put one straight to Turk's heart. But Turk's gun wasn't

empty. The crook had picked up another weapon, as had Denry. Turk fired first. Something burned Denry's

Turk wanted to get another shot at him, but Carol grabbed for the crook's gun hand. At the same moment, a

whispered laugh made Turk turn toward the doorway. He saw The Shadow, aiming from the threshold. Turk

In an instant, Turk had the girl in front of him, as a shield. Twisted toward the doorway, Carol winced as the

crook twisted her arm in back of her. Then, head lifted high, she called on The Shadow to risk a shot. Turk

The Shadow was gone from the doorway. They heard his gun begin to blast. Shoving Carol out into the

hallway, still keeping the gun against her temple, Turk rushed her toward the front stairs.

Mobbies, attracted by the gunfire, had come up the back way. The Shadow had turned to greet them.

With Carol as a hostage, Turk reached the tower hall. The terrified girl thought that The Shadow had

forgotten her. She didn't realize that he knew she would be safe until Turk was in the clear. The mob leader

By the dim light of the library fire, they saw men cowering in corners, waiting for the police to come in from

the garden. Turk saw stacks of money and bonds still on the table, but didn't dare stop for the swag. From

upstairs, he could hear the sound of The Shadow's triumphant laugh, marking the end of gunfire.

Shoving Carol to the front door, Turk told her to unbolt it. Tremblingly, the girl obeyed. Then she was

Carol tried to hold back as Turk shoved her. There was a taxi down the street, and she feared that Turk would

use it for a getaway, carrying her along. As Carol balked, Turk jabbed the gun muzzle harder.

"I'm in the clear already," he sneered. "If you want a bullet, you can have it!"

Carol started down another step. She heard something swish from above her. Then she received a forcible

jolt, but not from Turk's gun. It was away from her forehead; wildly, Turk was clawing for her shoulder. A

A taxi driver was helping her to her feet when she looked back. On the steps, Turk was struggling with The

Shadow. An open window on the second floor told the route that he had used. Dropping from above, The

Shadow had delivered so sudden a surprise that Turk hadn't found a chance to fire.

"Get in the cab, lady," the taxi man was telling Carol. "I'll look out for you. I brought The Shadow here."

CAROL believed him. They were in the cab and away none too soon. As Turk, wriggling madly, tried to

scramble back to the shelter of a house door, a crookmanned car wheeled up, guns bristling from its sides.

The Shadow opened fire, so did men from across the street. The Shadow's agents were on hand.

Crooks left their car and dived for shelter. Leaving battle to his agents, The Shadow followed Turk into the

As Turk dived into the library, a scurry of crooks came through the hallway from the kitchen. Driven by the

The cloaked fighter flung himself into the midst of them; he sprawled with them in a slugging heap. One

crook got through to join Turk; there was wild excitement from the library. A cluster of men came milling out

A staggering figure from the stairs threw his weight into the fray. It was Denry, fighting despite his wounded

shoulder. Like The Shadow, Denry saw bundles that Turk and the other crook were carrying. From the

stairway, Denry was in time to aid the men who actually wanted to prevent Turk's getaway.

It was The Shadow, though, who settled the matter. Pitching a last pair of groggy thugs into the arms of

The other thug dropped his part of the swag. Hands caught Turk's coat; the crook wrenched clear of it and

Turk's trapped pal made a wild lunge for The Shadow, took the bullets that should have reached the fleeing

racketeer. Staggering in huddled fashion, Turk was grabbed by two crooks who bobbed up from beside the

steps. They steered him headlong into their car and sped away, running a barrage of bullets from The

At the doorway, The Shadow saw Turk's car turn the corner. Turning about, he witnessed a scuffle in the

hallway. Hebler was sprawling, as Denry butted him against the wall. Stacks of money flew from Hebler's

Apparently, the lawyer had gathered in the reclaimed cash; The Shadow and others had handed it over from

Police were shoving the separated combatants into the parlor. Trone was coming from the library, helping

Jervis, who had been lying wounded since the earliest conflict. The Shadow had a chance to reach the library.

He looked about to see if anything had been left on the table. It was quite bare.

Moving beyond the fireplace, The Shadow stooped from sight just as other persons reached the doorway.

Miss Prudence had come in through the kitchen with the police. She was suggesting that, since the wounded

men Denry and Jervis were being cared for in the parlor, the others should hold conference in the library.

By the time the group arrived there, The Shadow was gone. Spying the curtains at the back of the room, with

open darkness beyond them, he picked them as a hiding place. He saw Miss Prudence enter, carrying her

"It's all here," she assured dryly. "Well, Mr. Trone, let us proceed with our transaction. I am ready to buy

Trone gave a gargly interruption and pointed at the bare table. Turning, he stared from Miss Prudence to

Crime's invasion had produced results, despite the efforts to frustrate it. Though a quarter million in cash had

been saved, bonds rated at an equal value were actually gone. No longer could events be considered in the

Evidence was wanted. When found, it would reveal the master hand behind the game of crime. The Shadow

BEFORE anyone else could offer a suggestion, a very competent man took charge of matters. He was a

swarthy, stocky individual, who had come with the police. He was Inspector Joe Cardona, ace of crime

Cardona had regarded a tipoff involving the Ralcott mansion as important enough to require his presence.

Events had proven that he was needed, for it was Cardona's efficient leadership that had enabled the police to

Pacing the library, Cardona eyed a body lying near the curtains, ordered two detectives to take it away.

"There goes Shank Bithlo," announced Cardona. "The only guy he ever worked for was Turk Gorlon, a

mighty slick racketeer. From all descriptions, it was Turk who brought the mob here. You all say Turk went

out through the front." Cardona looked around the group. "Could he have carried anything with him?"

One by one, they agreed that Turk might have still had the bonds, though he had lost the cash. It was

probable, Joe decided, that Turk had mistaken them for the currency, in the excitement. It was rather ironical,

the thought of Turk clinging to the wrong bundle, though Trone didn't seem to see it that way.

Between them, Trone and Muyana were agreeing that Turk would have some trouble fencing the bonds.

Cardona decided that such a discussion could wait. He got back to the subject of crime, as he questioned:

Before anyone could answer, Denry arrived from across the hall. Weak and haggard, he was talking about

Carol, saying that Turk had dragged her away. Miss Prudence was claiming that Carol was still upstairs, in

"Your niece is outside, in my cab. I took her away from all the shooting. When things got quiet, we came

"She wants some more clothes first," explained Moe. "She says a nightgown isn't formal enough, considering

Miss Prudence showed actual amazement. Then, regaining her calm, she sent Larkin up to find Ellen, to tell

the housekeeper that the battle was over and send her out with suitable attire for Carol.

Denry was relieved by Carol's return, but he was close to collapse. An ambulance was clanging outside;

"All right," demanded Cardona. "All that's over. Let's get back to where we started. Who was working with

He looked at Hebler, as though the lawyer ought to know. Like Henry, Cardona had become suspicious of the

withery man. Meeting Joe's gaze, Hebler merely shrugged. But he had a gleam in his eye that made Cardona

"Tell me this, then," demanded the inspector. "Why did Melwin go after you, just before I came in? What

"I brought the money here," he declared. "Since Miss Prudence had intrusted me with it once, I supposed it

"He was excited, I suppose. Miss Prudence regards him as a very trustworthy young man. I wouldn't want to

CARDONA began to stroke his chin. Hebler's backhanded suggestion had impressed him. Trone had heard it,

"Yes," replied Trone, mournfully, "he is the one person to suspect. Technically, he is already a criminal. He

Hebler indulged in a wrinkled smile. He had hoped to get Trone started, without revealing how he had used

"Denry took five thousand dollars," declared Trone. "He confessed it today, and signed a statement admitting

his guilt. Go to my office, inspector. In the safe, you will find a tin box that contains all the evidence.

"Worst of all" Trone gave a groan "he took the money to pay a debt to this man you call Turk Gorlon. In

Cardona was ready to leave, when he remembered that he needed the combination to the safe. He asked for it;

Trone repeated the combination from memory, and Cardona wrote it down. As he turned about, Joe said:

"From what you say, it's obvious that Denry Melwin is the person who let Turk's mob in here tonight."

"No!" It was Carol who interrupted. She had entered the front door, wearing an elaborate dressing gown and

"Nonsense!" chuckled Miss Prudence. "You were in bed, Carol. Don't try to shield Denry. He isn't guilty yet.

Besides, I know you were asleep" the old lady chuckled "because of the medicine I gave you."

Cardona stared from Carol to Miss Prudence. He decided that their conflicting statements did not matter.

Probably Miss Prudence was right, because Carol obviously loved Denry and might therefore lie to save him.

"Somebody was working with Turk," decided Cardona. "When we find out who it was, that settles it.

Because" looking about, Joe kept his eyes on Hebler longer than the others "anyone who was here tonight

Cardona left the library, to call the hospital. He wanted to make sure that Denry would be under proper guard,

in case his arrest was to follow. While Joe was making the telephone call, Miss Prudence passed near the

She, alone, heard the lowtoned whisper that issued from the space beyond. She gave a slight nod; when

"Suppose that we all follow you to Mr. Trone's office, and continue the investigation there?"

"Good enough," agreed Cardona. "I'll detail men to come along with you. I can leave others here at the

AFTER Cardona had gone, Hebler stepped suddenly across the room and parted the curtains at the rear. The

glare from a newly blazing fire illuminated the small adjoining room. It was empty.

They were waiting for Carol, who had hurried upstairs to get dressed. During the interval, a telephone call

came for Hebler. The lawyer answered it, talking tersely, his tone confidential to avoid the ears of officers

Then Carol joined them, and a parade of cars set out for Trone's office. There was an officer in each vehicle,

with some squad cars forming an escort. Trone, it happened, was riding in the same car with Hebler.

"I hate to believe that Denry is a criminal," declared Trone, moodily. "But the proof is in my safe "

"There was proof at the house," interposed Hebler, dryly. "I haven't forgotten how Denry tried to seize the

"That was a bluff, Trone. Anyone could have bluffed during that fight. Even you or I."

"No doubt he loves the girl. He hadn't expected Turk to drag her from her bed and expose her to danger. That

The cars had reached their destination. The assembled group went up in elevators to Trone's office. There,

they found Cardona; he had opened the safe and had placed the tin box on the desk. The box was closed with

"I didn't want to open it," declared Cardona, "because I knew you were coming, Mr. Trone. You hadn't told

"Of course," said Trone. "I'd forgotten about the seal. I put it on there" he gave a casual glance toward the

tin box "because I had set the box specially aside. You see" his tone was earnest "I had resolved to give

The seal was wax; its smudged surface cracked easily as Cardona opened the box. But Joe didn't notice that

particularly, nor did Trone. Neither believed that anyone could have tampered with the seal, since it had been

But when the lid came up, it did not reveal the expected contents. Instead of a few flimsy papers at the

bottom, the box was stuffed. The stack that Cardona took from it consisted of charred papers, all alike: some

A few, however, were almost intact, enough for Cardona and others to identify them. Those crinkled papers

were proof enough of crime, but a different sort of evidence than anyone expected.

On Trone's desk, they made a startling sight the scorched remnants of the South American bonds that

From somewhere in that very room, it seemed came the whispered laugh of The Shadow!

TO Cardona's view, the evidence was enough. A man of many hunches, Joe began to understand its meaning.

Others, closer to recent events, still were baffled; that was because their minds were cluttered with false

Miss Prudence Ralcott was not among the uninformed. The look that she turned toward Uriah Hebler was one

that made the lawyer stare. He realized that Miss Prudence had learned everything, from The Shadow.

His whisper fading, The Shadow spoke. His voice came from the loudspeaker on Trone's dictograph device.

Arriving here ahead of Cardona, The Shadow had opened Trone's safe, having heard the exporter give the

combination. He had substituted the evidence, taking out the papers that incriminated Denry, leaving the

He had still found time to reverse the dictograph device, so that by speaking from the office below, he could

be heard in Trone's, over the wire that Jervis had formerly used. But The Shadow did not discuss any of those

How the bonds had come there could remain a mystery. The evidence against Denry would be forgotten as

"Those bonds," announced The Shadow, in his sibilant tone, "are exactly as I found them in the fireplace of

the Ralcott library, after Turk Gorlon failed to take them. Their theft was necessary, so that Lawrence Trone

A spluttery voice interrupted. It was Trone's, making a denial. The Shadow drowned it.

"Trone lacked the capital to buy real bonds," the sinister voice resumed. "Moreover, he did not care to risk

them. Those bonds are false, like Trone himself. Like his friend Muyana, who was supplied by Turk Gorlon.

It was Muyana who was mouthing arguments, that were lost as The Shadow increased the tone of the

"Look for the fingerprints, inspector" The Shadow was speaking to Cardona directly "and you will find

those of Trone and Muyana to be the only ones. But the real criminal is Trone. He planned the whole game

"The proof is simple. Only Trone could have arranged the details which fell so accurately in line. He waited

until Turk had framed Melwin's brother, then put Denry into trouble himself. He baited Denry with the bank

"What did it matter if Denry refused to aid Turk's entry into the Ralcott house? As long as Denry was there he

would be blamed when afterward branded as a crook. Either Trone or Muyana could have opened the way

Carol Marr was staring fixedly. She actually thought that Trone, or his stooge, Muyana, had done the deed in

But Carol, gazing at her aunt, realized that the old lady must have known much, all along. She had shielded

THE SHADOW'S voice trailed to a weird whisper, that rose with a sudden crescendo and crashed into

shivery echoes that chilled all listeners. His story was told; no more was needed.

The law could piece the details as they were required. No accusation would stand against Denry Melwin. The

Shadow had not forgotten to remove Trone's own list of the reserve fund's total.

It was only a little matter of five thousand dollars that had gone back to crooks, anyway. A replacement for

the money that Turk Gorlon had loaned to Alvin Melwin, alias Kid Pell, to be lost in gambling houses where

From the very outset, crime had been managed by a man of craft: Lawrence Trone. The silent partner in many

rackets, his export business was nothing but the front he used to acquire crooked funds.

He hadn't been satisfied with irregular earnings, requiring big payments to workers like Turk Gorlon. Trone

Trone admitted that himself, now that the game was up. As The Shadow's laugh dwindled into silence, the

master crook found his voice. He was shouting accusations at everyone, including the faker who called

With the words, the darkish crook tore away from hands that held him and made a move toward Trone. It was

just what the master crook wanted. Tangled with Muyana, Trone yanked a gun and began to use it. His shots

By that time, Cardona and others were grabbing both of them, halting Trone's shots, preventing Muyana's

draw of a gun. It looked like an easy victory for the law until the door of the outer office burst open,

They had headed to Trone's building, figuring it was the one place they would remain unhunted, for they had

depended upon Trone to cover crime. They were to clear later, those crooks, on the basis that their share of a

But Turk didn't have the cash; not even the eighteen thousand dollars, for he had left that behind when he lost

his coat. Hearing gunfire, he had ordered his men to Trone's office, desperately hoping to salvage something

It meant death to many, if Turk and his few desperate followers reached that inner office, where everyone

was scattering. What stopped them was a challenge from the outer door by which they entered. It was the

laugh of The Shadow, close at hand, this time, without the use of intervening wires.

Turk and his thugs wheeled as The Shadow's guns began to blast. They dived for the cover of desks and other

office equipment, hoping by force of numbers to stab home one lucky shot that would end the career of their

It was one of those duels where all hung in the balance, when The Shadow's guns were suddenly joined by

Two squatty men had shoved into the doorway beside him. His new allies were Cady and Belk. Hebler had

heard from them back at the Ralcott house, had told them where to come. He had specified, too, that they

Turk and his crew were slumping, outshot so competently that not one had gained a chance at accurate aim.

One was Trone; behind him was Muyana. The latter sprawled as Cardona followed him with a shot.

Ahead of aiming police guns, Trone shoved his revolver toward The Shadow. Three bullets met Trone, jarred

him so hard that he bounced deskhigh as he fired. Trone's bullet dented the plaster above the outer door.

Cady and Belk deserved full credit. Either of their shots would have felled Trone, mortally. But as the chief

of crime lay motionless, clutching the scorched bonds close to his bulletburned heart, all witnesses knew

The Shadow's shot had marked the certain end to crime. Stepping between Cady and Belk, the cloaked victor

RIDING back to the mansion, Miss Prudence beamed at Hebler and asked, very pointedly:

"You said I was a fool, Prudence," he declared, "and I believe I was. I had the whole case in my grasp and

"Of course!" answered Hebler. "From the day he began negotiations with you. That was why I had a

"No. I believe now that Trone was too smart. He guessed that the place was wired. When he called Turk he

must have done so elsewhere. The things that Jervis overheard were the things that Trone wanted known."

"When Cranston entered the scene," declared the attorney, "I began to suspect him. Today, I actually trapped

"To a degree, yes," returned Hebler. "But Cady and Belk helped me. I left them guarding him, but he

managed to escape. He locked them in my offices; it took them a while to get free."

"I'm glad they did," decided Miss Prudence. "They helped out very nicely later. Who are they, Uriah?"

"A couple of State officers," replied Hebler. "The governor furnished them, at my request. I had them with

me several times, Prudence. Everything they did was quite legal. They even had a right to seize Cranston. He

"Because he was going to take you into his confidence," laughed Miss Prudence. "It would take a gun,

sometimes, Uriah, to make you listen to reason! Nevertheless" she gripped the lawyer's arm "I think a

great deal more of you because of all that you have done. Perhaps I am stupid, too, Uriah."

An ambulance was waiting outside the mansion. Carol gazed at her aunt, started to stammer a question.

"Of course Denry is here, dear," declared Miss Prudence primly. "He wasn't badly hurt. You don't think I

Carol heard no more. She was dashing into the house. She reached the second floor, paused outside a door.

Stepping away from the door, Carol waited while it opened. Her eyes met those of a blackcloaked visitor as

he departed. She understood the gaze. Carol went in to see Denry. He was propped in bed, his arm in a sling.

"Alvin is dead," Denry told Carol. "He died as he should have bravely. Before he went, he talked to The

Denry's lips wavered, about to phrase the word "me." Carol pressed his hand and supplied the proper

Down in the library, Miss Prudence and Uriah Hebler were seated on the couch, gazing at the blazing fire

which Larkin had just replenished with a log. They were talking of years long gone by, of many things that

A whisper brought them to the present. It echoed along the hallway, from the doorway that led out through

To those who dealt in evil, that tone could bring chills. To the present listeners it carried warmth, like the