DICTATOR OF CRIME ....................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. A MATTER OF MILLIONS...........................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. CRIME PREARRANGED..............................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. DEATH GOES RAMPANT ...........................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. WAYS OF FLIGHT .....................................................................................................11

CHAPTER V. VANISHED CRIMINALS ............................................................................................14

CHAPTER VI. MARGO TAKES A TRIP ............................................................................................17

CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW'S COURSE .......................................................................................22

CHAPTER VIII. FORCED LANDING................................................................................................26

CHAPTER IX. CASTENAGO'S BANQUET .......................................................................................30

CHAPTER X. MAN FROM THE PAST..............................................................................................35

CHAPTER XI. FRIENDS OF THE SHADOW ....................................................................................39

CHAPTER XII. THE COURSE AHEAD.............................................................................................43

CHAPTER XIII. GONE WITH THE BLAST......................................................................................47

CHAPTER XIV. CASTENAGO'S COURTESY ..................................................................................51

CHAPTER XV. GAME WITHIN GAME............................................................................................55

CHAPTER XVI. WELCOME THE SHADOW!...............................................................................59

CHAPTER XVII. BEFORE DAWN.....................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XVIII. DEATH BY DAYLIGHT .......................................................................................68

CHAPTER XIX. THE COUNTERSTROKE ......................................................................................72

CHAPTER XX. PAID IN FULL ...........................................................................................................77

THE Clipper smacked the blue of Biscayne Bay and settled into a lazy squat, from which it taxied toward a

landing. An audible sigh of relief came from the ropedoff crowd that lined the shore of Dinner Key. Little

Seldom did the population of Miami, citizen and tourist, assemble en masse at the Marine Airways Base to

witness the arrival of a Clipper plane. But the winged ship just in from the Caribbean was worthy of a huge

turnout. Not only because its passengers were something of celebrities, but because of the cargo that they

The plane was in from Centralba, a Caribbean republic long established but recently renamed by its dictator,

Luis Castenago, a "strong man" who masqueraded under the title of president. The passengers on the Clipper

were the militant leaders of the antiCastenago party: Colonel Jose Durez and a handful of associates. What

Only this afternoon had the news broken that the coming revolution in Centralba had been called off.

Remarkable was the fact that it had been settled on peaceful terms, with the ironfisted Castenago sending

his opponents into banishment, instead of forcing them to meet the muzzle end of a firing squad.

Most extraordinary of all was the report, on positive authority, that Durez and his faction had sold their

holdings and concessions, at full price, to the government of Centralba which, in two words, meant Luis

Singular that Castenago, of all persons, should have gone "genteel," for wholesale assassinations had long

been the Centralban substitute for politics, with Castenago always supreme. Naturally, the facts led to rumors,

The first was that Castenago, planning a merger of several Caribbean countries, with himself as head, felt that

a show of leniency to opponents in his own republic would win over adherents in neighboring republics.

The other rumor was that Durez, while plotting revolution, had wisely gained the support of Francisco

Peridor, former president of Centralba and idol of the populace, whose friends Durez now included had

Of course, there was the fact that the United States was dickering for defense bases in Centralba, but that had

been no deterrent in Castenago's killing off the opposition in the past, and therefore could have no bearing on

The first rule of a good neighbor being to ignore all family squabbles in the house next door, gave Castenago

all the leeway he wanted in his own home without having even to pull down the shades, though he was

At any rate, live arrivals from Centralba were a novelty in Miami, and everyone had come to welcome the

heroes who had been paid off in gold instead of bullets. Particularly, the crowd wanted to see the money,

itself, which accounted for the presence of about fifty Miami police, with motorcycles, squad cars, patrol

From the moment they alighted, Durez and his companions were surrounded by a flood of khaki uniforms.

The spectators caught glimpses of some fairsized coffers that other police took from the Clipper; but those,

Then the procession was proceeding toward the Terminal Building, which had been blocked off to the public.

The only persons who remained were government inspectors, who piled into the Clipper with fumigation

apparatus, to make sure that Durez and his friends hadn't smuggled in some yellow fever carriers along with

NEAR the entrance to the balcony restaurant within the Terminal, Margo Lane watched the procession arrive.

She'd been smart enough to get into the building by buying a ticket for San Juan, which she intended to

redeem later. For Margo wasn't contemplating a trip to Puerto Rico. She was here on a much more important

Only a few hours ago, when the radio had begun to blast that Durez was coming, and newsboys had started

shouting special extras in the Miami streets, Margo had received a wire from Lamont Cranston, telling her to

The wire had added that Cranston was leaving New York immediately, by plane, for Miami, in hope of

Unfortunately, the wind was strong from the south and it had sped the Clipper into Miami ahead of schedule.

Meanwhile, Cranston's southbound ship was meeting head winds, that retarded it. This worried Margo, when

In private life or perhaps the other way about Lamont Cranston was The Shadow. He made it his business

to battle men of crime, and the bigger they came, the better. If certain crooks had aspirations to acquire ten

In Margo's estimation, that made it all the more important that Cranston should have arrived first; which,

They were crossing the broad floor of the Terminal, now, Durez and his band. Margo got a good view of

them as they passed the tenfoot revolving globe in the center of the concourse. A mosquito would probably

have crowded the Republic of Centralba on that huge spherical map; nevertheless, Durez and the others

paused to look for the little patch that they had hoped to wrest from Castenago.

By the time they had found Centralba, they were being pressed by the police who were carrying the ten

million dollar consolation prize, so Durez and his companions smiled politely and resumed their way.

During the pause, Margo identified Durez quite easily, by his thin, sharpfeatured face and small nervous

eyes. As for the others, four of them, three looked very much alike, darkish men, who made good stooges for

His face was dark as the result of tan acquired by long residence in the tropics. At that, it was but a mild

shade of bronze, and he must have suffered sunburn during the tanning process, for his complexion wasn't the

sort to take tan well. His light hair, a real strawyellow, indicated that his natural skin color should be a very

He looked youthful, probably more so than he was, and his trim uniform enhanced his military bearing. In

fact, Margo was wondering if he'd be more handsome if he weren't tanned, when it suddenly came to her who

he was. She'd read about him in an extra, while riding to the airways base by cab.

This young man was Colin Nayre, until lately captain of the guard in Castenago's own palace. Margo had

expected Nayre to be a grizzled soldier of fortune; instead, he looked like a recent graduate from a military

Somehow, for reasons not specified in the skimpy edition of the newspaper, Nayre had shifted from

Nayre didn't seem the sort who would sell out anyone, even a doubledyed wolf like Castenago. It struck

Margo that the rise against Castenago must have reached the point of open demand, rather than remaining a

MARGO'S reflections were promptly justified. Past the big globe, Nayre overtook Durez and plucked his

arm. In a voice that was pleasant, yet touched with an embarrassed tone, Nayre spoke:

"Perhaps I should leave you here, senor. You have important business to attend to, with your friends, while I

"No no," interrupted Durez sharply. "You come with us, capitan. You are to be our guest, and we shall

"Exactly! We are safer here than there. You come with us, capitan, to the Hotel Equator, where we have one

Margo heard no more. The party was nearing the main doorway leading out to the avenue of royal palms,

where cars awaited them. She saw the cavalcade roar away; it was paced by motorcycle police. Then came

the cars, and finally an armored truck, carrying the precious coffers. By the time another motorcycle squad

had closed behind the speedy caravan, Margo was on her way to a telephone booth.

The afternoon was late. Darkness would soon arrive in the sudden way it did in Miami's clime. As she called

the municipal airport, Margo was hopeful that Cranston's plane had arrived. She learned that it hadn't, though

"Tell Mr. Cranston that Miss Lane called," she said. "I'm stopping at the Hotel Equator, in Miami Beach, and

It happened that Margo wasn't stopping at the Equator. Some of her friends stayed there, and she had guest

privileges, but she considered the rates outlandish, even at times when she had money enough to afford them.

Cranston knew all that, and therefore would understand what her message really meant.

It told that Margo had learned the one thing that wasn't in the newspapers, and probably wouldn't be made

known for a few hours: namely, that Jose Durez and his party were the persons who would actually be found

There wasn't any reason why Margo shouldn't be there, too. Hurrying from the airport, she took a cab and

managed to get started ahead of the departing sightseers. Her own car was in a parking lot in Miami, and she

was sure that she could get it and drive across the Venetian Way to Miami Beach ahead of Cranston, even if

Margo was still considering that possibility when she transferred to her car at the parking lot. She turned on

the lights because darkness had actually begun to settle. However, by that time, her chances of learning much

more were becoming comparatively slim. A plane had just landed at the municipal airport. Its pilot was

Margo's message was given to him while his bags were being put into a cab. Cranston stopped the process; he

opened one bag, inside the cab, then closed it. He asked an attendant to keep the bags at the airport. Then

The attendant stood watching the departing cab. He'd never seen anyone who impressed him quite like

Cranston. Calm of manner, with an immobile face that had a hawkish expression, Cranston had shown no

signs of hurry, yet had left with surprising speed. The attendant wondered just what Cranston had taken from

He'd have known, had not the cab sped away so rapidly on its long trip from the municipal airport over to

Miami Beach. In the rear seat, Lamont Cranston was undergoing a rapid transformation. He was sliding his

arms into a black cloak and clamping a slouch hat on his head. A pair of automatics, unwrapped from the

Amid the thickening darkness, the cab's passenger had vanished, which meant that he had merged with the

gloom within the cab itself, for he was still there. A laugh, too low to be heard by the driver, came whispered

SEATED by an unlighted window in the exclusive Hotel Equator, a bulky man with hard eyes and square jaw

was watching the procession that arrived outside. The bulky man was Murk Wessel, ace of con men, and

quite as much a leader as was Jose Durez, head of the recent opposition faction in Centralba.

Murk had stooges, too; a pair of them, right here in the room with him. There were more planted throughout

the hotel, guised as bellboys and servants. When Murk Wessel went after anything, he did it in a big way.

When he went after something as big as ten million dollars, he did it in a still bigger way.

The same cars that left the Clipper base were in the procession that arrived at the Hotel Equator, even to the

armored truck. The police, however, were wearing blue, and there were less of them. They represented the

Force of Miami Beach, and they had taken over duty from the Miami police at a halfway point on the

Murk watched Durez alight and gained a good look at him, because the hotel entrance caught the glow from a

brightly illuminated swimming pool beyond a hedge. The pool lay toward the beach, where rows of cabanas

awaited bathers, whether they chose pool or surf. For the ocean came next, and across it, an early moon was

Pool, ocean, and moon meant nothing to Murk. He watched the armored truck pull into the garage at the rear

of the hotel, until its contents had been removed. He counted the police who carried the coffers inside, and

From the window, Murk noted two men who looked like bankers, and were. They went upstairs with the

Durez party, and so did two others, who couldn't have been mistaken for anything other than private

Waiting patiently, Murk counted the police who came out. He accounted for all of the escort except two. The

fact that some of the cops remained around outside, didn't trouble Murk in the least.

"Ten minutes more," said Murk to the men who waited with him. "Pass the word along to the boys and we'll

"They're fixed," returned Murk. "They know what they're supposed to do. They've got it easy."

"I don't trust them guys," put in Murk's other lieutenant. "The way I figure it, a guy wouldn't be in their racket

"Which means they'll sell for the biggest price," assured Murk, "and nobody's able to talk bigger dough than I

The very size of the amount brought cautious whispers from the lieutenants as they started from the room.

Murk told them to quit acting foolish; that this job was just the same as any other. He added that it would "go

the limit," which was the only difference, but that the size of the prize made it worth it, to which the other

They went their way, and Murk struck a match to study his watch; used the flame to light a cigarette.

OUTSIDE the hotel, a trim roadster with lowered top pulled up beside the hedge. Its driver was an attractive

girl whose looks brought approving stares from the police, though their sense of duty prevailed. One cop

"Sorry, then. You'll have to move along. Nobody but guests allowed to stop here, right now. Strict orders."

The girl showed the card, and the officer read it. He checked her driver's license, to make sure that she was

Margo watched him read the back of the privilege card, which stated that it applied to use of beach and

swimming pool. She reached for an overnight bag behind the driver's seat, and opened it as the policeman

"I'm going for a swim in the pool," said Margo. "I've brought my bathing things along. See?"

The officer saw. He compared Margo's proportions with those of the bathing suit, and nodded.

Margo was fuming as she went through the lobby of the Equator and out by the front veranda, to a cabana.

He'd be watching, that cop would. What he needed was a transfer to beach duty, so he could see all the

bathing beauties he wanted. Right now, he was counting upon Margo as the sole attraction in that line, which

It didn't fit with Margo's plans at all. She hadn't intended to change to bathing attire, let alone be under

surveillance. Her chances of learning anything more about the Durez crowd had gone absolutely nil, and any

opportunity to meet up with Cranston would be very slight, since he probably wouldn't come anywhere near

She was balking at the whole idea when she reached the cabana, until she convinced herself that a half hour

in a swimming pool would be better than a night in jail. Stalling a cop whose mind was made up could prove

So Margo decided to hurry through with the swim. She got out of her clothes and into the bathing suit as fast

as she could. She put on a pair of bathing slippers, threw a light robe across her arm, and came from the

cabana carrying a bathing cap. She strolled past the hedge, to make sure that the cop was still there. He was,

Reaching the deep end of the pool, Margo sat down on a marble bench, laid the robe aside, and nonchalantly

began to adjust her bathing cap. As she did, she looked up and saw above the hedge. Her gaze was riveted by

thirdfloor windows at the rear of the hotel, above an extension which formed a garage.

Those windows were lighted, and through one of them Margo saw Colonel Jose Durez in ardent conversation

with a portly American who looked like a banker. Other faces passed the next window and Margo recognized

members of the Durez party. She'd located the suite where they were staying, and had also learned that their

MARGO found a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of her robe and lighted one since she could no longer stall

with the bathing cap. Her idea, now, was to linger, not to hurry, and she found plenty of chances to glance up

toward those windows. She calculated that the suite went the whole width of the hotel, because the rear wing

She saw the edge of a balcony, jutting at the rear, and remembered that it went the whole width, which

supported her conclusion. Moreover, she was wondering why she didn't see Colin Nayre. He wasn't among

Durez and his friends were drinking Cuba Libres as a preliminary to business. From their slow sips at the

Margo was just about deciding on a swim, when the glare of headlights cut through the hedge, illuminating

the green brush and the officer beyond it. Margo saw other police come dashing up, as the lone cop called to

The lights were from a taxicab, and police were arguing with the driver. They wanted to know why he'd come

here, and what his hurry was. He was stuttering something about a passenger for the Equator, when one of the

The others looked in the back. The cab was empty. They didn't appear surprised, but the driver was. He

couldn't remember where his passenger had dropped off, and he argued that he hadn't been paid.

That point struck home to Margo. She knew The Shadow's way of dropping out of cabs; but usually he

fluttered a bill into the front seat, to cover his fare, with a healthy tip besides.

This new wrinkle would only mean that The Shadow hoped to hold the cab for later use!

The plan, at least, was working, for police had ordered the cabby to park over near the back of the garage.

The cop who guarded the hedge was returning, so Margo had to scamper back to her bench. As she reached

it, she took a quick look over her shoulder and caught a chance glimpse of something that stirred her even

A figure was scaling the wall of the garage. It had just rolled to the roof, away from view of the police. The

shape appeared again, below the thirdfloor balcony, and prepared for a farther climb.

A faint breeze stirred past the white coquina wall, and Margo saw a slight flutter of blackness that represented

Boldly, almost openly, he was trying to reach the darkness of the balcony above, but to manage it, he would

have to swing outward, into plain sight, should anyone else stare upward. The police by the cab might miss

sight of him; they were close to the wall and still talking to the driver. But Margo's friend by the hedge had a

perfect angle from which he could spot The Shadow. Margo's own stare up to the balcony certainly wasn't

helping matters. If she kept it up a few moments longer, the cop would probably wonder what she was

The one thing to do was get her mind off The Shadow, and carry the officer's attention, too. So Margo tossed

She walked to the springboard, stepped to the far end of it and poised, preparing for a swan dive. Her eyes

raised and automatically she saw the lighted windows, where Durez and his friends were entertaining their

Margo never took the swan dive. She was frozen where she was by the sudden thing that occurred in the

rooms above. Light and gaiety ended together. With a single blink, the windows were blotted with an

absolute darkness that seemed, by its very pall, to smother the babble which ceased as the blackness came!

With that blot that foretold immediate crime, Margo lost her last chance to spot The Shadow, as he swung out

THE last moment of light in the thirdfloor suite showed a scene that could not be viewed from below one

On tables and chairs in the center of the room were the coffers that had come from the armored truck, open

for inspection by the bankers. The smaller coffers were by far the heavier, for they contained gold, in coin.

Gold from the treasury of Centralba, stored up through years: governmental proceeds from such commodities

The former president, Francisco Peridor, who still called Centralba by its old name, had done well for his

people. All the results of his economics had reached the hands of Luis Castenago, the present dictator.

These funds in gold, plus the American currency that swelled from the larger chests, were payment from

Castenago to Durez, and others, who had fattened on private concessions, now the dictator's property.

But Durez and the rest were more than satisfied, as their laughter told. Their mirth had simply increased when

they saw the two American bankers stare in awe at so much wealth, particularly the gold.

Then the scene of pelf was vanished in a trice! Not even the gold could glitter in the blackness that came

when the lights went off. The blackout could mean but one thing: a threat that produced absolute silence.

In the pitchdarkness, men trembled. Durez and his associates, fresh from a land where death could occur at

the mere snap of a dictator's fingers, had thought themselves safe in this healthier clime where law had

True, they had heard that criminals could strike in such cities as Miami, or the Beach, but they had been

jesting on that very point when they mentioned the terrorism that prevailed in Centralba.

A voice spoke from the doorway. Its rasp was crimeland's edition of a dictator's harsh demands. The tone

belonged to Murk Wessel, big con man, who had switched from his more subtle specialty to outright banditry

"Anybody that moves gets croaked!" assured Murk. "That dough is going out of here, and nobody stops it!

This wasn't like Centralba, where the military police stepped up in daylight and marched their victims off to

prison, with the promise of a mock trial that would mean a firing squad at dawn.

Here, things happened in the darkness, where accusers didn't even show their faces. Men of crime didn't

The stir that followed made all hearers shudder, thinking that some of their fellows had foolishly moved. But

the motion came from Murk's confederates. They were groping for the coffers, and they reached them. There

were slams as the lids went shut. Lugging their burdens, the crooks started out.

Even then, Murk's raspy tone was adding reminders. There was no telling how many more of his tribe stood

present. Durez and his comrades still trembled, as did the bankers. Each felt sure that a gun had been trained

upon him just as the lights vanished, and that its muzzle still threatened death.

TWO men in the room were steady. They were two members of the Beach police force, the pair that Murk

hadn't seen go out. They weren't budging for the present, because the time wasn't quite right.

They wanted to get at the crooks when the exodus started, so they were gauging their wait for Murk's voice. It

wouldn't do to start shooting while helpless men were involved. Besides, the police felt they could count on

They were thinking of the private dicks who had come with the bankers. They didn't guess that those two

supporters had already sold out to Murk, and had guns ready, not for the crooks, but for the police

"Some light out there in the hall," he ordered. The light came, enough to show guns but not faces, for Murk

and the two men with him had their backs to the wall. "Now, let's look this over. Good!" Murk turned, very

It wasn't a bluff. Two men eased in from the hallway, along which the precious coffers had departed. They

were experienced gunzels, these, for their crouch, the handling of their revolvers, proved it. If Murk had

shouted his intention, it couldn't have been more plain. He was doing things as they weren't done even in

It drilled home to Durez and his compatriots. It even gripped the trembling bankers. Most of all, it stirred the

two local officers. Quickly, their hands went to their guns. They hadn't any idea that they were slated to be

shot in the back; that their own actions would be the signal for a complete slaughter.

That was recognized by only one person opposed to crime, and his response was singular.

Strange that a laugh should have changed the case entirely, but that was because the laugh itself was strange.

It came as a mocking challenge to all men of evil; a taunt that they recognized as a threat of doom to

Sinister was that mirth from the doorway to the open balcony, where its author was visible only as a wavering

Murk's rasp was the lead tone in a chorus of snarls as crooks, one and all, wheeled toward the spot where The

Shadow had entered. Even the traitorous private detectives betrayed their hands. They swung from the

Guns volleyed with a thunder that rattled the windows, blasting straight toward the weaving target that the

The phenomenon produced a panic. Crooks were springing about, madly seeking the door, prepared to bowl

Murk Wessel from their path. The Shadow could have picked them off with rapid shots, right then, if the two

Durez and his comrades, revolutionists by choice, were flinging themselves forward, too. Yet The Shadow

A door slashed open, throwing a flood of light into the room. It was a connecting door, and the man who

THAT path of glow across the room showed the target that Murk's crew had riddled, but hadn't hurt. The

thing was a hanging curtain at the balcony door. In entering, The Shadow had drawn it out so that the wind

At present, The Shadow lacked his former advantage. Nayre's opening of the connecting door caught the

cloaked fighter in the worst possible position. The Shadow was dodging across the room, hoping to outflank

Murk's harsh shout was scarcely necessary, for the rest saw The Shadow, too. Madly, they aimed for him as

The Shadow was gone, but guns were ripping, cutting a wide swath through the only area where he could be,

shots aimed from three to six feet from the floor, sure to catch a whirling target, wherever he might be.

THIS time, there was no responding laugh as the echoes of the volley faded. Instead, the bursts of guns were

The two policemen, relieved of the traitors who threatened them, were springing upon the crooks, shooting as

they came. They were yelling for others to get clear, and the bankers were heeding their advice.

Durez and his compatriots were not. They were thinking of their gold, and forgetting something else: namely,

that Murk had given the order for their death. Grabbing for guns, the Centralbans were getting them from the

An odd thing was happening deep in the room. The two privatedetective traitors had turned and were

looking at a figure on the floor. It should have been dead, but it wasn't. The Shadow was coming up, alive,

and they knew why. He hadn't whirled away; he had taken a headlong dive, ahead of the barrage!

Rolling on the floor, The Shadow had been below the range of bullets. He'd flung himself right out of the

battle because there had been no other way, but in a few seconds more he would be back in it, unless these

two prevented him. Maybe they had thoughts of a bonus, as they aimed for The Shadow. Extra pay for

A gun spoke from the floor, the one gun that The Shadow could use at that moment. It clipped one of the

aspiring traitors and felled him, but left the other with an opportunity. The fellow didn't have time to use it.

It wasn't The Shadow's second automatic; it was a revolver drawn by Colin Nayre. He, too, had seen The

Shadow's roll. Nayre's target was the second traitor, and he dropped the man whose aim The Shadow couldn't

There was no time to exchange compliments. On his feet, The Shadow was wheeling out through the room,

passing the unscathed bankers in their corners, and the two officers; they had halted, wondering whether to

pursue Murk and his mob, or stand by to fight off a counterattack. The Shadow cleared sprawled figures

He was in the hallway. Ahead was another of the fugitives from Centralba, dead through his own folly. Murk

Wessel was struggling personally with Jose Durez, trying to drag the moneymad colonel into the elevator,

The Shadow sent a laugh along the hallway, a tone that almost woke the dead with whom the criminals

Sight of the blackcloaked avenger was too much. Murk gave Durez a fling, which wasn't difficult,

considering that the man was already wounded. Then, with a dive, Murk was in the elevator and his men

Sudden was The Shadow's stop, straight his aim. He wanted to put three bullets in that elevator before the

door slammed: one apiece for the men inside. It was Durez who prevented it. Still on his feet, the foolhardy

colonel flung himself right into the closing doors, blocking The Shadow's aim completely.

Guns ripped, but not The Shadow's. They were revolvers belonging to Murk and his lieutenants. They riddled

Yet, in that last moment when Durez sagged away, The Shadow poked a shot between the threeinch space,

Speeding along the hallway, The Shadow found a stairway and started down. Things had been happening in

instants, upstairs, so rapidly that the police from outside were just getting into the hotel. The Shadow passed

them like a streak of light, as he saw the rear stairway to the garage. A few of the police followed him. Others

IN the garage, Murk and his one remaining lieutenant jumped into the rear door of the armored truck. There

No one had been worrying about the truck while it was empty, hence crooks had taken it over easily. The

driver had to do what they told him, and the coffers were all on board; but one detail was forgotten: the

Purposely, Murk had left that to the final moment, so the police wouldn't expect the coming flight. But The

Shadow wasn't allowing the final moment. He was aiming for the rear door of the truck as Murk dived inside.

Hurdling the coffers, Murk flattened beyond them; they stopped The Shadow's shots. The driver, responding

to the menace of guns, spurted the truck right through the garage door, which smashed apart like pasteboard.

An ordinary car wouldn't have had the weight to accomplish that little feat, but the truck was as heavy as a

fairsized army tank. All that The Shadow gained was a nice wide exit through which he could dash on foot.

As he came out, he saw the taxicab that had brought him from the airport. The driver, stiffened at the wheel,

THINGS were happening elsewhere. Up in the room where the battle began, one man was fighting off a pair.

The one man was Colin Nayre, and he was struggling with the two policemen who had been in the fray from

They had quite the wrong idea regarding Nayre. They thought that his chance opening of the connecting door

had been intentional, and they wanted to hold him to account for it. After all, Nayre didn't quite belong to the

Durez faction a point which the bankers were shouting aloud. He'd been ruled out of the business

conference by Durez. Maybe he'd sold out, the way the two private detectives had.

Only The Shadow could have testified in Nayre's behalf, and The Shadow was gone. So Nayre, thinking that

The Shadow perhaps had fled from a misunderstood situation, decided that a quick out was his course, too.

Flinging the two officers aside, he dived for the balcony just as other members of the Beach force came

All during the cannonading on the third floor, Margo Lane had undergone a flood of reactions. First, she had

stood petrified on the diving board; then, knowing that The Shadow must be in the thick of things, Margo had

She had hesitated, worrying about the police outside, particularly the guardian of the hedge, until she realized

Dashing from the shore end of the spring board, Margo reached the hedge and pushed through it, to her car.

The keys were in the lock, where she had left them just to show the toosuspicious cop that she trusted him.

All the while, Margo was darting looks up to the balcony, expecting to see The Shadow come out by the

route which he had used for entry. She only hoped that his exit wouldn't be a tumble.

A terrific crash distracted her. It was the armored truck; smashing out through the garage door. Margo didn't

see The Shadow follow, for she was looking upward again. Not sighting The Shadow made her magnify his

plight, and she started the roadster, feeling positive that he would arrive in crippled condition and need

She realized, then, that she should have stopped to pick up her robe and slippers, but it was too late to get

them. So Margo compromised by getting rid of the bathing cap, so she could shake her hair loose.

The roadster's seat was deep, and anyone noticing her head and shoulders would think that she was wearing

an evening gown and driving home from a party, instead of being a fugitive direct from the Equator

As Margo wheeled the roadster about, she saw a figure vault the balcony, run and drop to the roof of the

garage; but it wasn't The Shadow. She recognized Nayre, and he didn't stop with the garage roof. Instead, he

leaped across it and jumped to the ground, just ahead of shots that police began to fire from the balcony.

Taking it for granted that revolution had broken out amid the Durez faction itself, Margo thought that the

police pursuit of Nayre was quite legitimate. Though she had liked his looks when she first saw him, that

Nayre, it happened, had a way of helping himself. He saw Margo at the moment she forgot him.

A cab was starting away. It was the cab in which The Shadow had arrived. Remembering her former

impression, Margo had an idea that The Shadow was in it and decided she ought to overtake the cab, to give

On that inspiration, she pressed the accelerator, just too late to avoid taking on a passenger.

He opened the door just as the roadster spurted, and before Margo could shift to the brake pedal, Nayre

decided matters for her. He still had his revolver, and he nudged Margo with it, telling her firmly:

Guns were popping off like firecrackers, somewhere back, and police cars were whining to the chase. Up

ahead, an armored truck was roaring off into the mazelike depths of Miami Beach, and the taxicab was

They turned right and went north at full speed, with Margo giving a last frantic glance toward the departing

taxicab, hoping that The Shadow would see her. He couldn't have, thought Margo, or the cab would have

One reason that it kept ahead was because The Shadow did see Margo and the passenger in her car. If there

was any man who deserved a break for freedom, that man was Nayre. Not only did The Shadow know; he

was sure that Margo would understand, in due time. But there were other men, who deserved no chance at all:

Since he was on their trail, The Shadow stayed with it. His last word to Margo was a parting laugh that she

THE chase through the streets of Miami Beach was unique in the annals of that city. In a sense, it wasn't a

pursuit. It was a case of worriment. Any attempt to overtake and crack an armored truck was out of the

question. The thing to do was keep the crooks on the go, until they gave up through weariness and exhaustion

The Shadow set the style, and the police promptly copied it. Attracted by the sounds of shots, one police car

cut into the scene, to see a taxicab spurt toward the truck and swing into a zigzag.

A few shots from the cab window enticed a whole deluge from the truck, but the responding bullets didn't

So the police car took a stab at it and found that it worked. A few blocks more and the cab reappeared, giving

an example to another police car that had rallied to the chase. Soon, the truck was veering, too, its occupants

There were times when the truck managed to disappear, but always it was flushed again, whereupon it opened

It was much like a fox hunt, except that no one shouted "Tallyho" and the fox was becoming very weary.

This fox, by name, Murk Wessel, had a big chunk of the Centralban treasure in his possession and didn't want

to be treed. But the more he drove in and about Miami Beach, the worse his plight became.

Two long bridges offered outlet from Miami Beach: one, the Venetian Way; the other, the County Causeway.

Each had a drawbridge, that could be raised by sending word ahead, and Murk's futile efforts to shake off

There was another route, to the north, which Nayre had been smart enough to take at once, but Murk hadn't.

That route narrowed as it proceeded, and Murk had seen police cars speed off to block it.

A welllaid barricade would turn Murk's armored truck from a mobile menace into a stationary fortress,

which could be starved out, if nothing else. Eating ten million dollars wouldn't be very healthy, particularly

So the truck began new tactics. It cut in and out of streets around Dade Boulevard, a diagonal thoroughfare

that made a patchwork out of ordinary squares. It looked like a game of hideandseek, and nothing more,

At last, it popped into sight over a bridge crossing Collins Canal, and suddenly cut southwest along the

It was then that the taxicab came back into the picture. Coming over a humped bridge that crossed the canal,

it overtook a flock of police cars that were trailing the truck at a respectful distance. Daringly, the cab sped up

The police didn't recognize what was going on in the cab. Its driver, of course, was obeying The Shadow's

order, as he had all along, for the ominous presence of a blackcloaked passenger from nowhere was enough

to command obedience. That, however, did not explain why The Shadow ordered such a daring course.

The Shadow had noticed that the police cars were appreciably closer to the armored truck than Murk and his

crew had previously allowed. The Shadow wanted to know why the fugitives weren't shooting back. His

He was telling the tautnerved driver to veer away the instant he received the command. So far, The Shadow

Though the cab wheeled almost to the rear of the fugitive truck, no shots came from the armored vehicle.

Inspired by The Shadow's example, the police cars made a spurt. They saw the cab make a sudden swing, as

though to dodge a coming gunfire; but no shots occurred. The swerve sent the cab jouncing on to the

treelined sidewalk across the boulevard from the canal, but the police cars continued the chase.

Apparently, the crooks were out of ammunition, and had simply bluffed by poking guns from the rear of the

truck. Such wasn't the actual case however. The reason The Shadow ordered the cab's veer was because he

AS soon as the police cars had whizzed past, the forgotten cab backed from the sidewalk, bounced over the

As the sounds of police sirens dwindled, The Shadow laughed. He could anticipate the surprise that the

It came when the armored truck jerked to a necessary stop at the raised drawbridge on the Venetian Way. The

police piled from their cars and reached the truck, dodging its dangerous rear door.

They saw a scared driver at the wheel, both hands raised. He lowered one when the officers beckoned, and

Murk Wessel and the remaining members of his picked crew were gone, to a man, and the coffers containing

Shakily, the driver was explaining things. Gunmen had told him to keep looking ahead. Generally, they had

said: "Keep going!" But occasionally they had ordered halts, when a hiding policy seemed preferable. He

remembered that the last stop had been somewhere near one of the many canals that made a veritable Venice

They'd told him to wait about a minute and then start for the boulevard, to head straight for Miami. He had an

idea that they'd gone out the rear of the truck during that wait, but he hadn't been too sure. He'd feared that at

least one lurking crook had stayed on board, to make sure instructions were obeyed.

By the time the truck driver reached that stage of his story, the cops were no longer interested. They realized

how they had been duped. Murk and his tribe had dropped off, swag and all, to take a water route, sending the

Only The Shadow had guessed the ruse. Alone, he was returning in the cab that he had commandeered to

hunt down Murk's band of murderers. Why The Shadow had undertaken that quest singlehanded, was soon

Recalling the most likely spot where mobsters could have disembarked from the armored truck, The Shadow

was guiding the cab driver to it. They reached a park, where the moonlight glimmered on the waters of a

curving canal one of those serpentine waterways where aquaplaners frequently disported for the benefit of

Neither aquaplanes nor cameramen were in sight. Through the fringing palms, The Shadow saw the hulk of a

lowlying boat, which might belong to Murk and his companions. Stealthily, The Shadow skirted toward a

better vantage point. He was planning to reach an ornamental bridge and make a quick drop into the craft that

It was the wail of an approaching siren, the same whistly trill that every police car had used while on the

chase. The sound proved that the police had learned their error and were coming back, making an even

greater mistake by proclaiming their return. The giveaway howl of those sirens was the very reason why

Crooks heard the sirens, too. A motor coughed, and the lurking craft was off. Low, beneath the level of the

palmlined shore, it was where The Shadow couldn't reach it with bullets. The boat was roaring beneath the

Springing to the center of the short bridge, he stabbed shots after the fugitives, and they fired back. Palms that

obscured the moonlight made the speedy boat no more than a lowlying streak of black, which The Shadow

In their return, Murk's gunners were shooting only at the stone rail of the bridge, from which a weird,

taunting laugh accompanied the gun bursts. Then a turn in the canal carried the swift boat from sight, as well

as gun range. The roar of a powerful motor echoed back along the wavewashed waterway, while sirens,

HIS own ruse spoiled, The Shadow hurried back to the cab, to find that it had no driver. The fellow was

blocks away by this time. He hadn't even waited to snatch the keys from the ignition lock, so The Shadow

He was around a bend in the road that swung through the park, when he heard the sirens halting, back where

Any chase along this driveway would be futile, for by this time, the fugitive speedboat had reached the broad

waters of Biscayne Bay. The laugh that The Shadow gave was grim, signifying a coming problem which he

could definitely foresee because the police had overlooked it. It was something that credited Murk Wessel

The very system by which the police had confined the crooks to Miami Beach was now aiding the getaway!

That system involved the drawbridges. They had been lifted to prevent an escape by road. But the criminals

had taken to water, instead, and the draws were still lifted. Therefore, instead of being boxed between

No use to call headquarters and explain that situation. Before anything could be done about it, the

crookmanned boat would have passed the hazards. The Shadow had gauged the speed of the craft. Murk

Wessel wasn't risking ten million dollars on an old hulk. The getaway was actually accomplished.

The police would realize it, soon enough, and order a hunt, by boat, across the entire expanse of Biscayne

Bay. They would probably carry it to a greater extent, searching everywhere from ocean to Everglades.

Having spoiled The Shadow's chance to stop the flight before it actually began, the police were welcome to

all the bother that a widespread hunt would produce. They had more means toward such a quest than did The

Besides, there was something else that the police had either overlooked, or forgotten, but which was quite

important in The Shadow's estimate. Something that he might still have time to trace, as he had hunted down

That something was Margo's roadster, which she had driven away under the command of Colin Nayre, a

young man who might, at least, disclose some of the underlying clues to the movements of Murk Wessel and

Those crooks had acted with a prearranged precision, and Nayre might afford some answer to the matter,

even though his loyalty was unquestioned in The Shadow's mind. Having seen Margo's roadster head

northward, The Shadow was quite sure that it had sped for the neck of land that led from Miami Beach.

Dropping his cloak from his shoulders and removing his slouch hat, The Shadow picked up a cap that the

Police certainly wouldn't question an empty cab, driven by a man who wore a uniform cap, when it came to

the northern barricade. The Shadow would simply claim that he was answering a call from Golden Beach, a

Again, The Shadow laughed, this time in anticipation of a task that might amend the opportunities that

THE roadster was making rapid time along the beach road leading north. Nayre was insistent upon speed, and

Margo wasn't in a mood to disagree, not while the pressure of a cold gun muzzle was so constant.

Nayre had a casual way of easing pressure and applying it again. Sometimes he shifted the muzzle, so that

How many miles they'd gone, Margo couldn't guess. She was just beginning to think about the speedometer,

for future reference, when Nayre gave another nudge with the gun. Coolly, yet with a tone of politeness, he

By "there," Nayre meant a sand road at the left of the highway. Margo applied the brakes and made the turn.

As she did, she saw a building that looked something like an office, though it was in ramshackle condition. It

was topped by a sign that could be read in the moonlight, even though the painting was faded. The sign read:

Nayre told Margo to stop the car as they rounded the building. Obeying, the girl saw another ancient

Nayre turned off the ignition, but left the key in the lock, though it wasn't any help. As he opened the door on

At least, the sand was thick underfoot, and therefore soft to her bare feet, as Margo walked to the old office

building, Nayre keeping close beside her. There, Nayre knocked, and the door was opened by a dullfaced

Hanging the lantern on a beam, the dullfaced man took a dim flashlight in its place and departed. Margo

could scarcely see the flashlight's beam in the moonlight. She was watching the man walk over toward the

beach, when Nayre's revolver supplied another reminder. Again, his order was brief:

The room they entered was an office, as Margo expected. Nayre motioned her to a cushioned chair, the only

one of its sort, and sat down on the desk. Pocketing the revolver, Nayre eyed Margo quite steadily.

"If you don't know who I am," he said, "my name is Colin Nayre. I came in with the bunch from Centralba."

"Sorry I had to inconvenience you, Miss Lane," he declared, "but I was in a big hurry. There was a lot of

shooting going on, and the police seemed to think that I'd taken a hand on the wrong side."

"Let me explain what happened," suggested Nayre. "A crowd of crooks showed up and grabbed the cash that

"Yes, with my friends." Nayre's clear eyes took a meditative expression. "If you can call them such. Anyway,

they're all dead, Jose Durez and his friends. I suppose I'll come in for blame, because they lost their cash

QUITE apparently, Nayre was watching for Margo's reaction. Inwardly, she was rather shocked to learn that

She asked Nayre if he had a cigarette, remarking that she'd left her own in a pocket of her bathing robe.

"You've heard about this Centralba business," said Nayre dryly, "or you wouldn't take it so indifferently. Tell

Margo nodded. She admitted that she couldn't understand why a dictator like Luis Castenago had allowed an

opponent of Jose Durez's caliber to go free, with his friends, and take along the profits from their previous

"I suppose you're wondering why I was tied up with Durez and his crowd," remarked Nayre. "The answer is

simple: I wasn't. To answer another question that may be in your mind, I'm not a doublecrosser, and never

"How did I get mixed in it?" interposed Nayre. "Very easily. I was the man who organized the presidential

guards under the old regime, when Centralba really was a republic. I mean when Francisco Peridor was

"Yes. Peridor suggested it. He said that Castenago's election was legal, which it happened to be, the way they

run elections down there. The first man who gets to the polls has the privilege of counting the votes, and

"Castenago wanted me to keep my job as captain of the guard, and when Peridor advised it, I did. I hated it

the longer it continued, and was ready to quit when the Durez faction bobbed up. When everything smacked

of revolution, they suddenly showed up at the presidential palace, bringing Peridor with them. A really fine

Nayre was staring into space, so ardently that Margo felt sure she could reach the door without him noticing

her departure. The opportunity tempted her, but she didn't take it. Nayre had spoken frankly, and said enough

Therefore, she wasn't worried, and by remaining, she might learn some real inside facts that Lamont Cranston

"Peridor was grand," declared Nayre, in a tone of recollection. "He told Castenago that he sided with the

Durez faction because they wanted reform in Centralba. It amazed me, the way Castenago listened and the

compromise he offered. He said he would institute every reform that Peridor wanted, if Jose Durez would

"Of course, they hedged, until Castenago became generous. He insisted on that one point: they would have to

leave, as a token of good faith. So they began talking terms regarding their concessions.

"He granted everything they asked, provided that they get out. So they did, and I had to come with them;

"Funny, isn't it?" Nayre shook his head. "All during the Clipper trip, Durez and his crowd were

congratulating themselves on how they had outsmarted Castenago. They were talking about using a chunk of

that ten million dollars to smuggle arms into Centralba and start a real revolution.

"They wanted me in on the deal, and I had to listen, though I didn't like it. Then, when they arrived here, they

Nayre tamped his cigarette in an ash tray and rose from his perch on the desk. Looking at Margo again, he

"Frankly, Miss Lane," he said, "I can't say that I'm sorry. Durez and his friends got just what Castenago

would have given them had it not been for Peridor, the only honest man in Centralba. I can only state that I

Margo nodded, indicating that she believed everything that Nayre had said. He was still watching her,

intently, when an interruption came. The door opened and a stolid man with a weatherbeaten face stepped

"RATHER quick notice, Nayre," he greeted. "I didn't think you'd be needing me so soon."

"There's been trouble, Brady," Nayre returned. "Durez and his crowd were wiped out by a lot of crooks, who

"I'm not sure." Nayre turned. "By the way, Brady, I'd like you to meet my friend, Miss Lane. She brought me

Brady gave Margo an impersonal stare, and nodded. He didn't seem to regard it as remarkable that Nayre had

been chauffeured by a young lady fresh from a swimming pool, as Margo's ultra bathing costume indicated.

Indeed, Margo received the impression that Brady wouldn't have been surprised if Nayre had shown up on a

Evidently, the two were old friends, and Brady had been expecting Nayre's arrival in Miami. For the present,

that point was merely indicated by their mutual accord. Brady, in his stolid way, was more interested in

Stepping to a radio cabinet, Brady pressed the switch. He struck a very appropriate broadcast, a news

"Flash!" came a voice. "Miami Beach police are seeking the perpetrators of the most stupendous crime in

years. Tonight, unknown criminals raided the Equator Hotel, murdered Colonel Jose Durez, with three other

members of his faction, and took coffers containing ten million dollars which the dead men brought from

"Police believe that a tipoff enabled the criminals to accomplish their work. Though the murderers escaped

by water, from Miami Beach, the authorities are still searching for a man named Colin Nayre, who

disappeared with them. Evidence indicates that Nayre could have informed the local criminals of every move

It was Nayre who interrupted the broadcast, by snapping off the switch. His face seemed frozen as he looked

"They've figured it all out," he declared glumly. "Just as I expected: I'm the goat!"

"Lucky you told me to stick around," returned Brady. "The old crate is ready, like you wanted."

"Too long a hop," Brady shook his head emphatically. "How about the Isle of Pines?"

"No use, then, to wait any longer." Brady gave a beckon that included Margo. Nayre turned suddenly and saw

the girl's intensity. Margo was half risen from the chair, her hands on the arms. She eased back, hoping to

show indifference when Nayre looked her way. Too late Brady caught the look that flashed between them,

"She certainly is," assured Nayre firmly. "She's heard too much for her to stay here."

"But I can't go!" expressed Margo helplessly. "Not unless I can stop at my hotel, first, for more clothes."

"The bathing is fine at the Isle of Pines," snapped Nayre. "It's south of Cuba, you know. You can finish your

"Brady has friends on the Isle of Pines," he declared. "They owe him money, like everybody does. We'll stake

"Sure we will," added Brady, "and there are a lot of wraps in the plane. You can bundle up in those. It will be

ARGUMENT wouldn't help, and Margo knew it. Meekly, she accompanied Nayre and Brady out to the

hangar, and stood by while they hurriedly put the plane in readiness. It was a cabin ship, though of a very

antiquated model. Standing near the propeller, Margo watched Nayre spin it when Brady called "Contact."

Then, before Margo could make up her mind toward the next step, Nayre brought out his revolver and

Only a gesture was needed, for Margo seemed quite resigned to the coming trip. She would have stepped into

the ship if she hadn't chanced to glance toward the highway, where she saw a pair of headlights turn suddenly

With a quick turn, Margo darted across the wide stretch that formed Brady's rough landing field. She knew

that she was a perfect target in the moonlight, but she felt sure that Nayre wouldn't aim for her. She heard his

Another gun responded. It stabbed from the newly arrived car, which Margo recognized as a taxicab.

Stumbling over a hump in the sand, Margo landed with a half somersault that ended with a roar.

The roar came from Brady's plane, as it took off. More shots were spurting from the cab, but Nayre wasn't

Then strong hands were lifting her from the sand. The lights of the plane were twinkling high, but the burning

eyes that Margo saw were close. They were the eyes of The Shadow, peering from beneath the brim of a

He was walking toward her car, and on the way, Margo was panting every detail of her adventure.

When they reached the roadster, Margo heard The Shadow's whispered laugh. It denoted full understanding.

"Drive back to the Equator," he told her. "I shall return later, with the cab. You will have time to finish your

Again, The Shadow laughed, in response to Margo's eager question. His next words corrected her.

"You won't find me at the Equator," spoke The Shadow. "But I think you will meet your friend, Lamont

Cranston, if you look for him. I believe that he has been looking for you most of the evening."

It was afternoon, and Margo Lane was gazing from the roof garden of the Hotel Tropico, in Miami. She was

looking across the wide green strip of Bayfront Park, to the greater breadth of blue that represented Biscayne

Among the assorted speedboats Margo saw one of somewhat larger build, yet with the trim lines of a racer.

Coming up the bay, the boat was tooting for a drawbridge to open, and Margo identified the shrill, whistly

Lamont Cranston didn't even glance up from his newspaper as he inquired absently:

"Eleven of the mosquito ships," returned Margo, a bit petulantly. "I've been counting them, all afternoon, as

"Sorry, Margo," he said. "I did ask you to count the mosquito fleet. Seven, you say?"

"Eleven," corrected Margo. "There should be one more. Go back to your reading. I'll watch for it."

"A great deal here about the Durez murder," he declared. "The police are quite positive that a former con man

Margo nodded, still a trifle annoyed. She had heard so much talk concerning Murk Wessel. The police had

two reasons for suspecting him to be the master of the murder ring. First, all the dead crooks found on the

battle round at the Equator had been former cronies of Murk. Again, Murk himself had been seen in Miami

There was also talk of a mysterious Mr. Brown who had reserved a suite at the Hotel Equator, thanks to the

connivance of an employee who had been slain while helping crooks get away with Durez's millions.

Very obviously, Mr. Brown was none other than Murk Wessel, for the mysterious guest had disappeared at

the time of the robbery. At least, the police regarded it as obvious, but that didn't mean it would stand in a

Murk Wessel would have to be found first. Once found, whatever alibi he gave would have to be shattered.

Even then, the evidence against him would be largely circumstantial. So far, the police were still occupied

"I've not only heard of Murk Wessel," mused Cranston, "I've met him, Margo. Two or three times, and he

was always using an alias. I don't think the chap liked me. I knew too much about him."

Margo put the question tartly, hoping that Cranston would catch the deeper inference. As The Shadow,

Cranston didn't usually meet known criminals three times. Once was the usual rule, at which time he

Therefore, Margo's question really veiled another. She was asking The Shadow why he hadn't been up to his

"Murk was a con man, then," observed Cranston. "You know how those fellows usually operate. They choose

dupes who are quite as greedy as themselves. They show the suckers how to make some easy money, and

"Yes. As an object lesson to the dupes, whose money I saved. It would not have been just for Murk to pay a

penalty, while they went scotfree. I had Murk listed, and was waiting for him to try to trim an honest man."

"Something that couldn't be anticipated, Margo. Con men of his type seldom go in for violence. Besides"

Cranston's eyes steadied upon Margo "I'm not so sure that he would have gone in for murder in this case,

MARGO tried to catch the meaning in those eyes: whether or not Cranston might be expressing an actual

opinion. He was certainly basing his statement on Margo's own testimony, regarding Jose Durez, which she

In substance, Nayre had said that Durez planned a new revolution in Centralba, at the cost of many lives. It

Unless their revolt could have broken the regime of Luis Castenago and restored Francisco Peridor to the

presidency of a true republic. Such a result would seem worthwhile, at any sacrifice!

Debating the question for about the fortieth time, Margo returned her attention to the bay. She kept watching

for another mosquito boat that didn't appear. Reports said that twelve left Miami, the night before, to scour

Capable of sixty miles an hour, those ships would certainly have headed off an average craft. Their failure to

find Murk signified that he must have come ashore and continued the getaway by land.

In fact, the roofgarden radio was introducing a news commentator, who supported that probability.

"The search for Murk Wessel has become nationwide," declared the commentator, "but nowhere is it being

handled more thoroughly than in New York. The Manhattan police have heard from several unnamed

sources, supposed to be underworld informants, that Murk Wessel was seen in the big city shortly after noon

"How he arrived from Miami, whether by plane, train, or automobile, is not the important question. The

police are trying to learn whether he is hiding out, or trying to create an alibi. Murk is alleged to have many

friends in crimedom. How far their testimony can be trusted, is doubtful. If Murk seeks an alibi in this case of

"It might," returned Cranston, without a smile. "The police believe a great deal, Margo. Last night, I

understand, an officer at Miami Beach actually believed a young lady who said she was going for a swim in

The brunette gave her head a slight toss at hearing Cranston's reference to her unusual adventure. Cranston's

eyes were almost smiling, even though his lips weren't. Margo couldn't keep up the pretense of being angry.

"I did take a swim, later," she said. "What's more, I found out facts you wanted to know. Perhaps, though,

"Not at all," assured Cranston. "If you had, you wouldn't be here to count the mosquito boats for me. How

Before Margo could think of a retort, the announcer's voice came on again, stating that the last of the

mosquito fleet had reported in at the Miami Yacht Basin, with no report of a lurking boat along the coast.

This was proof conclusive that Murk Wessel must have continued his flight by land, which, in turn, backed

"Yet the Isle of Pines is very pleasant," Cranston remarked. "You would have enjoyed it, Margo. I'd have

done better to count those mosquito boats myself. I don't think I would have missed one. There were twelve,

THIS time, Margo was angry at herself. How she'd missed sight of one ship, was a riddle. They'd all gone

She expected Cranston to chide her further, but he didn't. His understanding of Margo's real emotions was

quite as keen as his recognition of her pretending moods. His casual way of changing the subject softened

"About Nayre " Cranston reflected. "Did he say why he was going back to Centralba?"

"They're still looking for him," Cranston continued, "although they're trying to find Murk first. From the

standpoint of circumstantial evidence, it looks quite bad for Nayre, having Brady all set to fly him away from

"A good point, Margo, especially because Brady thought you were a friend of Nayre's. Let's take Nayre at his

word. He wanted to get away from the Durez crowd before they dragged him into business he didn't like.

They were powerful, and he knew it might be troublesome, giving them the slip. So he had his friend Brady

Margo nodded earnestly. She liked the theory. However, the most important point remained unexplained.

"Why should Nayre go back to Centralba?" queried Margo. "Any danger from Durez would certainly be less

"You said that Brady wasn't surprised to see you," he told Margo. "Apparently, he took it for granted that

Nayre would have a girl helping him to escape. Even a girl in a bathing costume didn't faze Brady. Yet Nayre

would have to be a very persuasive chap, to convince a young lady to aid his flight at such short notice."

"But Nayre wasn't at all intrigued by the situation. You thought he was woman proof. No wonder! If he'd

admired you, as you deserved, he could have put away his gun and relied on his own personality, and the

moonlight, to convince you that you ought to help him. Therefore, comparing the Nayre that Brady knew

"That Nayre is in love!" exclaimed Margo, as Cranston purposely paused. "Gone completely gaga over

"Precisely," he said. "Having settled the problem of Colin Nayre, I can now consider the case of Murk

Wessel. Having met him three times, I might very well help the hunt for him. Sorry, Margo. It looks like New

"You talked of an air cruise down to Rio, Lamont. That's why I was here in Miami, to begin with."

"I know. The cruise starts tomorrow. You'd better take it, Margo. You'll like the crowd, and the pilot, too. His

name is Kent Allard. Quite a celebrated flier; I forget what it was that made him famous, but he is. You'll

CRANSTON was gone, and Margo, standing in the gathering dusk, felt very much alone. She wished she'd

said she wouldn't take the cruise, but it was too late, now, to change her mind. By now, Lamont was speeding

to the airport in a cab, and Margo knew his ship was ready for an immediate takeoff.

All she could do was stand and watch from the rail of the high roof. Darkness had settled, a half hour later,

when she saw two lights rise to the northwest and blink a signal from above the airport. Then those lights

Their flash had been Lamont's parting signal. He knew that Margo would be watching for it.

It hurt, parting with a friend like Cranston. The darkened waters of Biscayne Bay reflected the lights from the

Venetian Way with a dewy dance, when Margo looked in that direction. It couldn't be the waves that blurred

the mirrored lights, for there were none. The trouble was that Margo's eyes were just about as dry as the bay

From a table secluded among the palms that sprinkled the hotel roof, a guest who had just arrived looked

across and saw Margo gazing over the rail. His face was different from Cranston's, but his lips phrased the

Those blinking lights had marked the departure of Cranston's plane, under the control of a hired pilot. The

Shadow, himself, had returned, for his future course lay southward, not to the north. Margo Lane wasn't

As happened often, The Shadow's theory regarding the whereabouts of a missing criminal was as at direct

variance with that held by the law. He still intended to look for Murk Wessel, but in the last place where

MARGO LANE liked Kent Allard, as did the other members of the cruise party. It didn't take her long to find

Several years ago, Allard had started on a nonstop flight to South America, only to disappear from civilized

ken. He had reappeared after a few year's absence, in company with some Guatemalan Indians of the almost

Having landed in their midst, Allard had become the ruler of the Indians, and the departure of their white

It didn't occur to Margo that Allard could have been in America, particularly New York City, during the years

when he had reputedly been among the Xincas; yet such was the actual case. The reason, too, was as definite

To hide completely his identity from crimeland, he had pretended to disappear, before beginning open war

upon the rulers of the underworld. Of course, as The Shadow, he had found it necessary to appear in public,

Day in, day out, The Shadow posed as Cranston, and had almost come to regard the name and personality as

part of himself. As Cranston, he could meet his various secret agents, among them Margo Lane, without

Should they be forced, under unexpected pressure, to declare that Cranston was The Shadow, he could simply

drop that personality forever and keep his enemies hunting him until doomsday. Doomsday, in their case,

would be translated by what would probably happen to them if The Shadow caught up with them while they

There were times, rare indeed, when The Shadow did drop the guise of Cranston and become himself: Kent

The Shadow wanted to go to Centralba. He couldn't very well go as Cranston. The gatomontes, or secret

police who served as Castenago's private organization, were very suspicious of all wealthy Americans who

About all that such visitors could do would be to buy up concessions which had been sold to half a dozen

others. Through various technicalities, all such concessions, together with the purchase money, became the

Meanwhile, the gatomontes kept "protecting" the visiting Americans, to such a degree that they were glad to

In his way, Luis Castenago made such bigtime confidence men as Murk Wessel look like very small

children who hadn't been broken of the habit of swiping pennies off stacks of newspapers. So, to meet

Castenago properly, The Shadow was choosing a unique mode of entry into Centralba.

He was going there as Kent Allard, and because Margo Lane would probably escape suspicion, he was taking

LIKE a great bowl of bluish chalcedony, the Caribbean Sea lay beneath the speeding wings of Allard's cruise

plane. Other members of the party, half a dozen in all, were chatting about the fogtinged weather, while

In one of those vague ways, which couldn't be explained, Kent Allard reminded Margo of Lamont Cranston.

When she tried to reason out the resemblance, Margo decided, smilingly, that it was because the two were so

Allard's face was thinner than Cranston's; in a sense, it was almost gaunt. His eyes were set, rather than

steady. His motions, though deliberate, were done with a precision, whereas Cranston's were leisurely to the

It seemed that Allard must have acquired his manner from association with the Xinca Indians, just as

Cranston had learned a placid philosophy from the lamas of Tibet. Those things became ingrown with a man

Margo didn't begin to realize that one background could be dropped at will, and the other taken up. Few

He'd found, though, that people would compare Allard with Cranston, as Margo was doing at present. It

didn't matter, because the longer the comparison continued, the more they would argue themselves into

The thing that served The Shadow best was his ability to render each character unique. No two things can be

unique and at the same time alike. Thus, Allard and Cranston, twinned at first impression, veered from each

Where the ship was at present, Margo hadn't an idea. She knew that it planned to swing from island to island,

Allard hadn't announced the exact itinerary, but the passengers were talking in terms of Panama. Then, very

From the cabin window, Margo saw a lowlying coast, with a sprawling town stretched back from banana

If there happened to be a landing field, Margo didn't see it, and Allard, for some reason, ignored it. He was

giving the ship altitude, as he headed for highrising mountains that formed a background behind the seaport

Someone was talking about fog above the mountains. Then laughter followed. The "fog" was smoke, issuing

from a live volcano. Of a sudden, laughter ceased when one of the passengers exclaimed:

The very word cast gloom. It produced too graphic images of Castenago and his gatomontes. Out of the buzz,

it became evident that everyone wanted to question Allard as to his choice of destination.

Recognizing the low chatter, Allard turned from the controls and spoke to Margo, the nearest passenger.

"Tell them it is a forced landing." His tone was clipped, quite the opposite of Cranston's drawly speech.

Margo passed the word along. Others were doubtful, wondering. While Margo was trying to separate the

"Our gasoline is low." He gestured toward a cluster of a dozen dials, among the many that spread over the

panel. "Probably a faulty gas tank. Castenago won't annoy this party, unless individual members criticize his

regime. There is an American consulate in Libertad; we shall notify it as soon as we arrive.

"The Imperial Hotel is excellent, and has survived half a dozen earthquakes. Anyone who wants to go home

can take a train from Libertad to Puerto Marias, the town we just passed, and take the first ship for New

WHILE Margo was dispensing that information in individual doses, Allard guided the ship through a wide,

curving mountain pass, where the roar of the motors awoke flocks of condors and sent the giant thunderbirds

The mountains spread into regiments of peaks, and miles ahead, a great valley splashed the vivid green of

Fears of Castenago dwindled as the air voyagers watched the unfolding scene. Traces of white appeared

among the green and soon became a solid splotch, with dabs of faint pink and creamyyellow serving as a

touch of color. The plane was approaching a city so charming in its setting, so bizarre in its own appearance,

Conspicuously inviting, the airport practically beckoned to Allard's plane. He crossed it, banked, and came to

a perfect landing inside a milewide inclosure, where men in picturesque uniform came dashing over to meet

Some of these men were airport attendants; others police; still more were soldiers. One representative of each

Allard talked in Spanish, with a trace of local accent that seemed to please them, with the exception of two

listeners, who wore greengray uniforms and remained in the background. After the passengers alighted, to

be received with courteous bows by all but the greengray pair, Allard undertoned to Margo:

"Gatomontes. They don't trust anyone, not even themselves. Don't tell the other passengers; they'd only

Margo was pleased to thus receive Allard's confidence. She remembered what Cranston had said that

afternoon in Miami. He'd spoken well of Allard, and Margo had seen the aviator that very evening, but hadn't

When Cranston mentioned persons briefly, it meant that he regarded them as real friends. In this instance, it

applied to Allard. Cranston was right in wanting Margo to take the air trip. She and Kent Allard were good

Automobiles were at the airport large, closed cars that took the party of eight, in two groups of four. Margo

was in the car with Allard, and just before they started she saw one of the gatomontes speak to an airport

official. With a jerky bow and a monkey smile, the official bobbed his head into the car.

"It is very hot," he said to Allard. "So, senor, I must lower the window curtains. It is not good that you should

The driver lowered his curtain, too, the real purpose obviously being to prevent the visitors from seeing too

much of Libertad until their status could be properly determined. As they rode along, Allard turned a curtain

"You won't see much, anyway," he told her. "I've been to Libertad before, back in the days when the town

had a more appropriate name. This driver is taking us through all the back streets, to reach the consulate."

"Quite the opposite," assured Allard. "After I've chatted with the consul, we'll be welcome. It takes awhile for

the proper word to reach a dictator like Louis Castenago. Those chaps usually become cordial when it is good

A SHORT stop was made at the consulate, and after they left, Margo observed that the blinds were no longer

drawn in the car. However, the trip to the hotel was very short, and Margo saw little other than white walls

and a broad, sleepy avenue, where even the palms were too tired to wave in the brilliant tropical sun.

She noted that the avenue was called "Avenida Castenago" and that the Imperial Hotel fronted a broad,

parklike square termed "Plaza del Libertador," which probably meant Castenago, too.

The dictator's pretense of being a liberator struck Margo as quite ironic. She wondered what Castenago

looked like, and she found out, to a slight degree, when she bought some postage stamps at the hotel desk.

On the way up to her room, Margo noted that the stamps bore Castenago's portrait, that of a wide jawed man

whose smudgy eyebrows gave the stamps a canceled look. Not much to judge Castenago by, but Margo

decided that she wouldn't like him if she met him. By this time, she was feeling the oppressive heat of

She had hardly begun her nap before the telephone bell rang. Answering sleepily, Margo heard Allard's

"Be ready at six o'clock," he said. "We're banqueting with Luis Castenago. If there's anything you need in the

way of an evening gown, or what not, just call the desk and give the order. They'll make the local shops

deliver anything that's needed. Don't worry about prices. If they're too high, Castenago will print some more

From her window, Margo took another look at the stilled green of the Plaza del Libertador. The silence of

that deserted area seemed to reflect the ominous tyranny of Castenago, whose word was law in Centralba.

She wondered if the plaza would ever be alive before the dictator's regime ended.

Margo wondered, too, if that term still applied to Colin Nayre, so recently returned to Centralba in defiance

AT six Margo met the others in the lobby. They were all agog over the coming banquet. They'd taken

Castenago at his word and bought plenty of things they required, from the shops in Libertad.

Margo, herself, had chosen a modest, but attractive evening gown and paid for it. She didn't care to be

First, one of the group happened to mention to an Englishspeaking clerk that they were "members of

It took a deal of explaining before the clerk could understand the various interpretations of the English term

"party." After that, Margo and the rest decided to announce themselves simply as "friends of Senor Allard."

It was funny, too, the way the bellboys hopped about picking up packages of unwanted merchandise, to take

back to the shops. They were doing something most unusual for bellboys: they were refusing tips. To accept

gratuities from anyone important enough to be entertained personally by Castenago, was definitely taboo.

Margo had in idea that the bellhops would get their remuneration later, after Castenago ordered a new press

Joining the group, Kent Allard provided the last touch of pleasantry, if it could be called such. He gave a

package to a bellboy, telling him to take it back to the shop where it came from, because the shirts were the

wrong size. He tucked a note into the parcel, to explain the matter fully, and then turned to his friends.

"I trust the banquet won't be a lavish affair," he said dryly. "You understand why, of course."

Headshakes proved they didn't understand. So Allard explained. It was Castenago's policy to wine and dine

his foes, political or otherwise, whenever occasion required. Such occasion was invariably the death of the

Castenago always allowed enough time to pass so that no one would accuse him of having poisoned his

Accidents or suicides were the general rule. Somehow, banqueting with Castenago inspired certain persons to

dangerous undertakings, such as taking wild rides along the difficult highways of Centralba just when a

bridge was going out or a landslide due to come. They'd even been known to go climbing volcanoes and slip

Others, very curiously, became despondent after dining at the presidential palace. Such persons always tried

One sample case was that of a political opponent who had actually drunk poisoned wine that he had intended

to send to Castenago so the gatomontes reported. Finding the dictator to be so kindly a soul, the wouldbe

"This is only a tencourse banquet," he stated. "Nothing ever happens unless there are more than twelve."

"What about Jose Durez?" asked Margo. "Did he and his friends dine with Castenago before leaving

"They just had a snack," returned Allard. "A mere fivecourse luncheon. Their mistake was their ignorance

of American customs. Murk Wessel didn't invite them to dinner in Miami Beach, so they weren't prepared for

STEPPING from the hotel, Margo paused in amazement to see the plaza thoroughly alive. The afternoon had

Most surprising was the fact that many people looked happy. They were laughing, chatting, and even singing

when they met with strolling groups of musicians who carried odd instruments shaped like guitars.

"They were the mariachis," explained Allard, referring to the minstrels. "You'll see them everywhere in

The ride by car to Castenago's palace was quite different from the earlier trip through Libertad. It was

something like a guided tour through the capital, with Allard pointing out the interesting features.

Passing a great market place, where Indians in fanciful silverbuttoned jackets peered from beneath huge

sombreros, the car swung around a lavish building of pink stucco that was centered in a tropical garden

Men were busily at work among the shrubbery, and unlike the natives, they were hard at their tasks. They

"The new casino," stated Allard. "Eventually, it will make Monte Carlo a hamburger stand, in comparison."

"Americans what few there are in Centralba. More will come." Allard spoke positively. "Castenago isn't

trying to hurry them. The casino, itself, will bring them in time. It's already attracted some Europeans, who

Turning through quaint, narrow streets, where upstairs balconies jutted above the shop fronts, the car

zigzagged toward the outskirts of the city. It detoured in order to pass a broad esplanade, fringed with strange

tropical trees that half hid some old, yellow buildings that looked like relics from the days of the Spanish

Someone was saying that this was the campus of National University, when Allard directed Margo's attention

the other way. He was pointing out the first marimba player that they had seen, and Margo had time to study

The marimba player was setting up his instrument on a broad sidewalk opposite the esplanade, while eager

natives watched. His dark face was topped by a fancycolored bandanna, and his shoes, like his gaudy jacket,

More interesting to Margo than the barelegged player, was the marimba itself. The crude instrument was a

long board, with keys much like a xylophone, but beneath the keyboard were hollow gourds.

Two dozen in number, the gourds ranged in size from very small to huge, though the line looked somewhat

irregular. When the player struck the marimba with small hammers, the gourds gave out soft, plaintive tones,

perfectly in key. Evidently they had been matched for sound, rather than appearance, but before Margo could

Through a gateway not far from the marimba player, Margo glimpsed a lovely patio surrounded by a wall. As

"That is where Francisco Peridor lives," he said. "He is the head of National University, hence his residence

Through the slight dusk Margo saw the uniforms of soldiers, patrolling outside the grounds. She thought that

Margo said nothing, but she felt that she fully understood. Francisco Peridor, friend of the Centralban people,

The car took another swing and the presidential palace bulked ahead. It was of modern architecture, but

excellent in design; splendid with the blaze of lights that threw scintillating beams upon gushing fountains.

Only briefly did Margo observe a flaw in this glorious sight. As they flanked the palace, a square, lowroofed

extension was visible behind it, forming an ugly contrast to the gorgeous palace.

"The presidio," remarked Allard, "where Castenago keeps his garrison. Very convenient, to have the military

close at hand in case of a revolt. It helps politically too. They say that Castenago frequently receives senators

through the front door of the palace and bows them out the back to a jail cell in the presidio."

Margo shuddered, for by then, the car had reached the front of the palace and an escort of guards in fulldress

All the way up the marble steps that lay between the spraying fountains, Margo kept wondering if she and her

The postage stamps didn't do justice to the supreme ruler of Centralba. No portrait could have properly

depicted him. His face was too mobile to be caught in any fixed pose that could show the evil that it

represented. Just as a snake is terrifying by its writhe, so were Castenago's features.

The dictator was heavyset, with a short neck that made his head look as if planted between his shoulders.

His face was wide, which added to the spread of his blacksmudged eyebrows. In turn, those smudges

accentuated the fierce eyes beneath, that could glitter, or dull, whichever their owner chose.

Castenago's nose was wide, an appendage to his broad forehead. Such a nose, which had no bridge between

the eyes, would have appeared a deformity on any other face, but it fitted Castenago's.

The width of his forehead, matched by the huge sweep of his jaw, demanded a central feature, and the nose

supplied it. As for Castenago's mouth, it, too, looked normal against the broad area of his total physiognomy.

The coarseness of his thick lips was scarcely noticeable, for it offered no great contrast to his general

Castenago had the stern look of an Indian whose ancestors had roved the mountains long before the coming

of the conquerors; but the Spaniards, in their turn, had contributed to his heritage.

There were probably other races mingled in his blood, and together they had produced Luis Castenago. His

This human snake, like bona fide members of the reptile family, possessed a power of attraction. His polite

bow, his welcoming gestures, were sinuous. When he spoke, there was a veiled hiss to his tone that the

The relief was the fact that Castenago turned his attention from one member of the visiting group to another,

There was just one exception to the lastnamed rule: Kent Allard. Margo was noting that Castenago did not

daunt the aviator at all, when a majordomo dressed in colorful livery, announced in Spanish that dinner was

served, or something to that effect. Therewith, Castenago bowed his guests into the banquet hall.

The dinner was served, with all ten courses; no more. The guests felt much at ease when Castenago arose,

signifying that the meal was ended. He was lifting a wine glass, ready to propose a toast, when he saw Allard

"I propose a toast," spoke Allard stolidly, "to Centralba's esteemed citizen, and former president, Professor

If a time bomb had dropped through the palace roof, to lie upon the banquet table, waiting to explode, the

silence of the startled guests could not have been greater. The night was warm, but they stood frozen, until, to

their amazement, Castenago raised his glass to his lips in acknowledgment of Allard's toast.

It was the signal for all to do the same, and when the toast was drunk, it was Castenago who again set the

example, by smashing his glass upon the floor. There were echoing tinkles as other glasses fell, rather than

Only Allard's glass remained intact. He calmly replaced it on the table, while Castenago glared, only to

"I REGRET, indeed," spoke Castenago, "that Professor Peridor could not be with us this evening. Since you

"It may then be arranged," declared Castenago. "Until then, senor, it would be quite unwise to call upon

Professor Peridor without invitation. Due to an unfortunate misunderstanding" by now, Castenago was

addressing all the guests "Professor Peridor has retired temporarily from public life.

"He was mistakenly linked with the faction headed by Jose Durez, a very unpopular group. It has therefore

Castenago finished by bowing his guests from the banquet room. His manner was so abrupt that Margo

sensed what lay behind it. Castenago had recognized a challenge from Allard, and was ready for the duel.

What that battle of courtesy and wits would produce, events would soon tell. Certainly, however, matters

could not long remain in a preliminary stage. There was nothing humorous in the thought that sprang to

Margo was thinking that Luis Castenago might classify Kent Allard as a special type of guest, despite the fact

To others, it might have seemed that Luis Castenago still considered it important to entertain his guests, but

Margo deemed otherwise. She was certain too certain that the dictator was trying to get rid of them, when

"You must see the casino," he assured them. "It is one of the sights of Libertad: an effort to produce

international friendship, because, if ever all men are brothers, it is at the gaming table. This is the most

popular hour at the casino, so I shall arrange an escort to take you there without delay."

Castenago bowed himself through a curtained doorway, which happened to be close to the chair that Margo

had taken. Turning slightly, Margo caught a view of the edge of the doorway and saw the man that Castenago

He was a hardfaced man, in a captain's uniform, evidently the successor of Colin Nayre as commander of

"This Allard may mean trouble," said Castenago. "I shall order a search of his room at the hotel, and double

"No. You have a different duty," Castenago told him. "You are to escort Allard and his friends to the casino

"No, no, captain. Again, you are wrong. You will return here. Others will watch Allard while he is at the

Margo was turned away when Castenago came from the curtained doorway, accompanied by the hardfaced

captain. She couldn't tell whether Castenago was eyeing her, so she decided not to speak to Allard until they

Unfortunately, the captain took it upon himself to assign the guests to their places in the automobiles. Margo

They rode to the casino by a roundabout route, which convinced Margo that the captain was taking time

while Castenago arranged the hotel search and the doubling of the guards at Peridor's. They passed Peridor's

residence on the way, and so far as Margo could observe, the soldiers numbered no more than they had

Again, Margo saw the marimba player, who by this time had gathered quite a crowd about him. The citizens

As for visitors, they were ready to pay for their entertainment. That was evident when the cars reached the

casino. The place was well thronged, and Allard's friends caught the fever. They all wanted to play roulette,

Margo included, because she believed she would thus gain a chance to speak to Allard.

She did, after the captain had introduced them all to Pierre Treban, the dapper Frenchman who operated the

casino. Finding a place beside Allard, Margo spoke in an undertone that was covered by the rattle of chips

"Be careful when the captain leaves," said Margo. "Others will be watching you."

"Castenago is ordering a search of your room," Margo added. "He is also doubling the guard at Peridor's, in

Allard's face was so immobile that Margo doubted if he believed her. She explained how she had overheard

With a slight nod that certified Margo's statements, Allard lifted a few chips and placed them on the board.

Margo did the same. It was good business, showing interest in roulette to hide something else.

ACTUALLY, Allard hadn't needed Margo's information, though it was helpful. Copying the example of

other players, he strolled from the side door of the casino and took a walk in the garden.

It was evidently their way of changing bad luck for good, but Allard was using it as a preliminary process.

The workers who had been so busily engaged that afternoon, had laid off during the evening.

Strolling back into the casino, Allard observed its many surrounding pillars that supported a balcony, where

people could watch the play on the gambling floor. A good spot for hidden observers, that balcony.

The pillars made good shelter too, especially because of darkened doors beyond them. The casino was

All of which assured Kent Allard that he was probably being watched. What Margo Lane had said merely

proved the point. So Allard calmly crossed the floor and went out by the main door.

In the driveway, he beckoned to a taxicab which was at the head of a short line. Taking the cab, he told the

From the moment that the cab pulled away, Allard knew that he was being followed. The car that took up his

Allard began making suggestions to his own driver, regarding shorter routes to the hotel. Sometimes, he told

He ordered more speed as they swung into a narrow street; then, suddenly, he told the driver to take the next

turn to the left. The order came so unexpectedly, that the driver had to jam the brakes as he rounded the

corner. The ancient cab rattled heavily, and with the clatter came the closing of a door; something that the

Very neatly, Kent Allard had dropped from the cab just as it passed the corner. His strides across the sidewalk

were very rapid; they carried him to a narrow alleyway, which he reached just as the trailing car swung into

Allard didn't have time to observe the car's occupants; but that wasn't important at the moment. In their turn,

As soon as the car had passed, Allard strode deeper into the narrow passage between buildings. It wasn't an

alley in the usual sense, but merely a rift, of slightly more than shoulder width. The walls flanking the space

were white, and couldn't have offered a chance at concealment in the glaring daytime. But this was night, and

Where the passage widened into a tiny court, Allard tried a door in the wall on the left. The door opened and

Using a tiny flashlight, Allard recognized the package that he had sent from the hotel, that afternoon. It was

Opening the package, he brought out a slouch hat, a black cloak, and a pair of thin gloves. There were no

automatics in the package. Allard already carried them. An aviator famed for landing in remote portions of

It took but a few moments for Allard to transform himself into The Shadow. Instead of leaving by the outside

In New York, and other American cities, The Shadow used various retreats where he could change from one

guise to another. The rule still applied to Libertad, the isolated capital of the remote banana republic of

SO silent was the shop, that the swish of The Shadow's cloak was audible as he passed through to the front

Closed for the night, the shop was made to order for The Shadow's purposes, for its interior was pitchblack,

Evidently The Shadow knew that such would be the case, for he did not use his flashlight. Reaching the front

door, he found it as expected. It wasn't bolted; it simply had a heavy burglarproof latch, which enabled The

Shadow to step out and leave the door as he had found it, by simply closing it behind him.

Even outdoors, The Shadow found his favorite habitat: darkness. The door of the shop was under a projecting

balcony, which entirely cut off the glow of the oldfashioned street lamps so prevalent in Libertad.

Keeping to the shelter of balconies, crossing the street at places where the lights were feeble, The Shadow

glided past a corner and came upon the Plaza del Libertador, opposite the Imperial Hotel. There he paused

It was a fiesta night in Libertad which accounted for the shops being closed. The populace had deserted the

narrow streets for open spaces such as the great plaza, and the scene was one of life and gaiety.

But The Shadow wasn't interested in the costumery of the merrymakers, who were enjoying pleasures that

would cease when the iron hand of Castenago tightened. He sympathized with them profoundly, and wished

That, in itself, was reason why The Shadow's attention should be centered elsewhere. Upon what he learned

tonight, would hinge his whole campaign toward ending the tyranny of Luis Castenago.

The Shadow looked across the street to the front of the hotel. He saw the ancient taxicab that he had hired as

Allard. It was the center of much speculation, voiced in voluble Spanish, by hotel employees, police, and

Cabs didn't often roll up to the Imperial Hotel without passengers inside them, unless they had been ordered.

This cab should have had a passenger; the driver was describing him and swearing by the sacred volcano of

A serious offense on the part of the missing passenger, could the cab driver prove that he really had one, for

Nevertheless, the chance arrival of an empty cab did not account for all the police and soldiers. The Shadow

A light blinked off from an upstairs window, the very room which The Shadow occupied as Kent Allard. The

police and military had been finishing the search ordered by Castenago, when the cab arrived.

The last of the searchers came downstairs. They were a pair of Castenago's sinister gatomontes. The men in

fancier uniforms began reporting to them. The case had reached the proper hands to bring official results. The

A car, parked in the darkness, was getting into motion, its lights dimmed. It was coming right past The

IN swinging the corner, the cab had to pass beneath a street light, so The Shadow watched it closely. He

knew that it wouldn't contain gatomontes, because there had been none of them around the casino. He was

sure that this car was manned by irregulars, in the service of Castenago. Having lured them into the light, The

A sharp glitter came from the cab. It was the muzzle of a machine gun, trained directly toward The Shadow,

The men behind the rapidfire weapon failed to see The Shadow in his nest of gloom, even though they were

leaning from their car, intent on searching every inch of the route back to the casino. All they did was put

The Shadow recognized those faces. He had seen them before. Leader of the murderous roving band was

Murk Wessel; the men with him were the sharpshooting lieutenants who had aided in the wiping out of Jose

There was a whispered laugh when the cab had passed; then The Shadow, too, was gone, sidling uncannily

through the darkness. The tone of The Shadow's mirth did not betoken a discovery. It merely announced the

While the New York police were tracking down the planted rumors that Murk Wessel and his band of killers

were somewhere in Manhattan, The Shadow had unearthed that notorious crowd in the one refuge where no

Only The Shadow could have analyzed the truth: that Murk Wessel had not operated on his own, but was

NATIVES were dancing in the esplanade of National University when The Shadow arrived there. There were

Some were tossing pennies to the stolid marimba player, who still kept up his musical beats outside the patio

Others were engaged in catching fireflies, of the amazing redandgreen variety seen in the tropics. The

insects looked like flying traffic lights, and they stayed at an appropriate altitude, which made them difficult

to trap. Whenever snared, they immediately become adornments for high combs worn by the promenading

The briskness of the firefly hunt forced The Shadow to travel close to Peridor's wall in order to avoid the

roaming students. They avoided the wall as if it were charged with electricity, because they knew the ways of

the patrolling soldiers. Castenago's militia was trained to shoot at sight, should anyone violate a taboo.

As The Shadow kept to the wall's sheltering gloom, he heard rifles crackle, at intervals, followed by an

immediate scattering of students and a fluttery flight of pigeons from the esplanade.

Fortunately, the soldiers were indifferent marksmen. Students and pigeons promptly returned to their

respective tasks the students plucking fireflies for the senoritas who, meanwhile, were feeding almonds to

Around the corner of the wall, The Shadow saw a uniformed man approach against the light from the

esplanade. Blended with the tan stucco background, The Shadow awaited the soldier's arrival. Scouting

students dashed close, saw the uniform, and scudded away as the soldier raised his rifle.

With a long stretch, The Shadow reached the top of the wall and lifted himself by his very fingertips. His

softtoed shoes dug into the stucco, and he was rolling across the wall top when the soldier resumed patrol.

The patio resembled a sunken garden, being several feet deeper than the ground outside. Clumps of shrubbery

might prove the lurking spots of inside guards posted by Castenago, so The Shadow decided to choose the

There were trees inside the wall, and one, a coconut palm, sprouted from the midst of flowery tropical

bushes. It looked like a good landing spot, so The Shadow flicked the pencil beam of his tiny flashlight

Instantly, crouched figures came to life. They could only be gatomontes, for no other uniforms would have

blended so well with the shrubbery. Their silence told that they were ready to shoot, once sure where the

The Shadow was quite sure that the gatomontes were excellent marksmen with revolvers. Shifting along the

Voices hissed below. The gatomontes were preparing to rake the wall with their fire. Even if The Shadow

beat them to the shots, it wouldn't help. The sound of any gun within the patio would bring a score of guards,

However, its beam was no longer white. This was the special flashlight which he often used in signaling his

The welltimed flickers were a perfect representation of the local firefly. Hovering between palms and wall,

the blinks provided actual illumination. Like tiny beacons from the blackness, they guided the lurkers, giving

They were evidently pleased that such a magnificent firefly should have drifted by at such a moment. But the

"firefly" was skittish. It suddenly floated toward the wall, gave quick, parting flashes and disappeared.

It was gone beneath The Shadow's cloak, and the men below were suddenly curious regarding the firefly's

EASING toward the branches of the palm, The Shadow tilted his head at an angle and counted coconuts

The palm was quivering, not from The Shadow's well placed weight, but from the clutch of hands that were

Five coconuts, bobbing and dipping crazily against the dim light. One went down from sight, but came up

again, bringing another with it. Then one more extra coconut appeared right beside the first newcomer.

Releasing his grip on the palm boughs, The Shadow lurched out into space, his hands ahead of him.

Crazy business, grabbing hanging coconuts to prevent a fall. Ordinarily, they'd be slippery, and useless as

Not these coconuts. They weren't the sort that grew on palm trees. They were interlopers.

Catching the two he wanted, with an insweep of his hands, The Shadow's lurch was halted by supporting

Nothing, however, could have stayed the swift motion of his powerful hands, coming, as they did, like unseen

creatures of the night. They bounced the coconuts together as a musician would crash a pair of cymbals.

The Shadow had chosen the right coconuts. The rest flipped upward, as all weight was released from the

palm boughs. Two figures thudded the ground, and in sprawling, they broke the finish of The Shadow's dive.

Rising among the shrubs, the coconut basher turned his flashlight toward the ground, using its white beam. A

low laugh sounded from the darkness above that penciled glow. The Shadow was viewing the two

Having remembered that these fellows always worked in pairs, The Shadow had simply waited for them to

introduce a pair of human coconuts among the fruit variety. They'd done it in their customary precision,

The gatomontes wore fancy belts with their otherwise drab uniforms. The Shadow found those belts quite

handy in trussing the unconscious pair. They carried gaudy handkerchiefs, too, in their inside pockets, for,

The Shadow used the handkerchiefs as gags. Tossing a pair of revolvers into the shrubbery, he started a foot

There were other guards about, police and soldiers on patrol. They were easily spotted by The Shadow and

were comparatively harmless, since The Shadow had eliminated the mainspring of the works in the persons

One soldier, however, was a real obstacle. He stood on guard at a flight of steps leading up to a balcony that

With the notes of the marimba flitting in from the great gate, The Shadow had an excellent musical score

accompanying his next exploit. He skirted the tropical plants, and suddenly confronted the soldier just as the

fellow turned. The Shadow sped both hands toward the sentry's rifle and seized it with a viselike grip.

Naturally, the guard doubled his own grip on the gun, which was exactly what The Shadow wanted. Dipping,

he drove his knee against the sentry's, and as the man caved, The Shadow used the gun for leverage, rolling

the surprised soldier right across his shoulders to a headlong landing on the tiled paving of the patio.

There was a thud, but no clatter, for The Shadow was the one who retained the rifle, the sentry losing his own

Another guard was coming through the patio, blinking a flashlight toward the shrubs along the walk. So The

Shadow hoisted his stunned prisoner and carried him away, rifle and all, under the fringe of the balcony.

Reaching an isolated marble bench, The Shadow mounted it and shouldered his human burden over the

balcony rail. Poking the rifle through the uprights, The Shadow finished by climbing over the rail itself.

MEANWHILE, the glow from the flashlight had stopped back at the steps. The Shadow heard orders in

Spanish, slurred with the local dialect. The inspector was evidently an officer come to organize the new

guards. Finding the steps unwatched, he simply supposed that they had been overlooked, so he was

Binding and gagging the man who had forcibly gone off duty, The Shadow tried a door leading in from the

balcony. It was locked and bolted on the other side, so he tackled a window, instead. The window had a

heavy grating, clamped on the inside, but The Shadow's fingers, probing through, worked delicate wonders

All was silent in the mansion. Occasional lamps, soft in their glow, revealed deserted rooms furnished in

exquisite Spanish style. There were short hallways, abbreviated flights of steps, that gave the house the

Below a curving flight of stairs The Shadow saw a stronger light, that indicated a habitable portion of the

ancient domicile. He glided down the curving stairs and came to a square hall, not more than ten feet on a

The light was from the ceiling, and the hallway, with tiled floor and walls, was something of a patio in

miniature. Opposite the stairway was a curtained doorway, through which more light came. On either side

Considering the solitude upstairs, those side rooms would also seem deserted. The Shadow's logical course

It was then that the lulling atmosphere produced a warning. The place was too quiet, too unguarded, to be

safe. The thought flashed to The Shadow's brain a splitsecond before the trouble came. Before he could get

his hand to a gun, the curtains at each side of the hallway parted simultaneously.

From each direction sprang an attacker. Wearing no uniforms, their drab attire gave them the look of spies, or

servants, both darkfaced, and so alike that they might have been twins. But The Shadow had no time for

such comparisons, except in relation to the weapons that the pair carried. Each dark attacker was brandishing

Both deadly blades were slashing for The Shadow. Had he remained rooted, his doom would have been sure.

At best, he was only able to wheel toward the man on the right, meeting him a moment earlier than the other;

The first machete sliced above The Shadow, carving nothing more than a portion of his cloak sleeve. Before

the second man could lengthen his lunge to bury the knife blade in The Shadow's back, the cloaked fighter

With a side step toward the stairs, the second man tried to make a crossstab at The Shadow, but the spin was

too swift. Using the first attacker as a human bludgeon, The Shadow flung him upon his companion.

As both reeled toward the stairs, The Shadow followed up his brief advantage with whippet speed. He

grabbed the first knife hand that came his way and sprawled its owner to the stairs, where a jutting step met

the back of the man's head. Then, lunging from the steps themselves, The Shadow gained an added impetus

They landed heavily, the machete specialist beneath. As the machete clattered the tiles, The Shadow sprang

from atop his halfstunned foe and moved toward the curtains at the far end of the hall.

He needed a vantage point from which to hold off his recuperating enemies, who were jolted, but not out of

They had parted, and The Shadow was confronted with a leveled revolver, held in the slender but determined

hand of a darkeyed Spanish girl, whose blazing gaze told him that another step would bring action from her

HALTED, his gloved hands lifting slowly, The Shadow laughed softly but grimly. That touch of strange

mirth was induced by the sounds behind him, for he knew that within a dozen seconds the machete experts

They'd follow the usual rule, those fellows, of striking first and inquiring afterward.

The girl's eyes told that she felt no mercy toward an unannounced intruder. Small wonder, therefore, that The

Shadow laughed. Unless his wits could prove quicker than a gun trigger, or the strokes of deadly knives, this

Often, The Shadow's tone had sounded as a knell to dying men of crime. This time, seemingly, it was the

Such, by rights, should be the dwellers in this mansion; instead, they were proving the deadliest of foes. Only

a Spanish girl's rigid adherence to custom was prolonging The Shadow's slim opportunity to live.

The senorita preferred that the servants should give death to the cloaked intruder, since it was their appointed

task. Her stern gaze assured The Shadow that no tensecond argument could save him.

Perhaps the girl expected a voluble plea in Spanish; she was certainly steeled to ignore it. Nevertheless, The

His words were in English. That made no difference. A plea in any language would be useless. However, The

"Good evening, Senorita Peridor," he said. "I mistook your servants for Castenago's men. I bring a message

The Shadow took just ten seconds for that speech, and his emphasis upon the word "friend" carried just the

needed touch. The widening of the girl's eyes, the slight parting of her lips, told that her gun hand had

Already, the servants were beginning a new lunge; there wasn't time for time girl to call to them, even had

He jabbed his left hand for the girl's gun, caught it, hand and all, finishing with a twist as he lurched her

through the curtains. The revolver clattered away and The Shadow's speeding grip slid to the senorita's wrist,

The Shadow had her safety in mind, along with his own, for in turning her as a human shield, he carried her

The servants tried to flank The Shadow too late, for he was through the doorway, where they couldn't reach

him except by tearing the girl from his grasp. They never went through with such a plan, for by then, their

attack was fully balked. The Shadow's right hand had pulled a gun from beneath his cloak.

He hadn't actually drawn the automatic; he'd done something even swifter. The holstered gun was pointed

toward the hallway at the time of his grab, and he wheeled his body away from it.

Practically where it was, the .45 was pointing across the shoulder of the darkeyed senorita, whose efforts to

break from The Shadow's grasp were nudging the weapon from left to right, so that it confronted each of the

"From a certain friend," repeated The Shadow, in the girl's ear, "named Colin Nayre."

As The Shadow paused, his eyes still on the servants, he had to move the gun of his own accord. The girl's

The girl's happy sigh was drowned by the clash of machetes against the tile. The servants had recognized the

Relaxing his hold upon the girl, The Shadow let her turn to speak to them. They bowed when she used the

The girl turned and led the way to her father's room. When she knocked at the door, her tap was recognized.

"I must see you, father," the girl replied. "A friend is here, bringing word from Colin Nayre."

THE door opened, instantly, and Mariquita ushered The Shadow into a room where Professor Peridor stood

Dark eyes, as kindly as the voice that accompanied them, peered with amazement from a mild, white bearded

Peridor had heard of The Shadow by that title from times when the blackcloaked stranger had visited other

Mariquita's lovely face became more and more bewildered when she saw her father and The Shadow seat

themselves beside a table and begin an immediate conference. For the things that Professor Peridor broached

were his true opinion of Luis Castenago, expressions which would mean death in Centralba, should they

"I was a fool to believe Castenago," Peridor's tone carried bitter sorrow. "All my efforts to better conditions

in Centralba have been twisted to justify Castenago's evil deeds. Instead of improving matters, I have placed

myself in a predicament where I am helpless, and my country totally unable to shake off a tyrant's misrule!"

Finding The Shadow's interest complete, the elderly professor gave a brief summary of events in Centralba;

valuable, because it was the firsthand story of a sincere man. Peridor had undergone the ordeal met by all

rightminded persons who have sought, by ordinary measures, to restrain a dictator's rise.

Peridor had criticized the Castenago regime from the start, advocating a policy of passive resistance. Peridor's

claim, that right could triumph over might, had even seemed to win the dictator's respect, but it had merely

At least, it had caused Jose Durez, champion of open revolution, to seek Peridor's support. Though Durez was

by no means unselfish, he promised to improve the government if he came into power. Since Peridor was

opposed to violence, Durez agreed to hold his own strength in the background, as a threat in case Castenago

"How cleverly Castenago solved the problem!" exclaimed Peridor, facing The Shadow. "He showed

willingness to compromise, if we told him our terms. Hearing them, he met our separate desires. He promised

"Thus dividing our power, he further specified that I should remain in Centralba, while Durez must leave. My

patriotic sentiments, and Durez's lack of them, produced our separate accessions to his terms."

Obviously, Peridor had become enmeshed in an intrigue which produced a dilemma in his honest mind.

Durez was definitely a case in point. Peridor had been glad to see him go, yet knew that his own life was safe

only so long as Durez might return. The day after Durez's departure, students had demonstrated against

Of course, the demonstration was instigated by Castenago's agents, but it had been sufficient pretext for the

dictator to insist that Peridor seek retirement under what Castenago termed "protection."

A sad travesty on the truth when Castenago, the tyrant who styled himself "liberator," could be regarded as

Hard upon that had come the news of Durez's death. While alive, and away from Castenago's reach, Durez

was a protection to Peridor. His death meant that Castenago could dispose of Peridor whenever he so chose.

"Castenago bides his time," declared Peridor, "only because he would prefer to see sentiment grow against

me before he arranges my assassination. In a way, it is unfortunate that the student demonstrations have

ceased, for it will shorten my life span. If I perish, the cause for the redemption of my country will be at an

FROM the door, Mariquita was impatiently waiting for The Shadow's news concerning Colin Nayre.

"One ugly rumor," declared Peridor, "is the claim that our good friend Colin Nayre betrayed Jose Durez, in

"It is more than a rumor," returned The Shadow. "The police have proven that Murk Wessel and the other

killers were established in the Hotel Equator when Durez and his friends arrived there. Someone must have

"Not entirely," interposed The Shadow. "I, personally, am sure of Nayre's innocence. I have come to Libertad

Peridor mistook the words for an accusation against himself. Rising, he lifted his right hand.

"In my daughter's presence," he avowed, "I swear that I revealed the plans of Jose Durez to no one!"

"Your statement is unnecessary," spoke The Shadow. "I have already discovered the traitor."

"Then tell us who the culprit is!" exclaimed Peridor, as Mariquita drew closer. "I shall find him, wherever he

"You will find him in the presidential palace," affirmed The Shadow. "His name is Luis Castenago!"

Peridor and Mariquita couldn't believe their ears. They knew that Castenago had granted amnesty to Durez,

which was why The Shadow's charge seemed at variance with fact. It wasn't until The Shadow explained the

Leniency was known to be Castenago's new policy; to display it he had merely banished Durez. In keeping

with his real character, Castenago had designed death for Durez, through the aiding hands of American

"Impossible!" exclaimed Peridor. "Castenago would never risk the consequences of letting such assassins

remain beyond his reach. If captured by American authorities and forced to tell the truth, their testimony

"They are not beyond his reach," explained The Shadow. "Castenago sent Durez away to find false security.

One person would have accepted that statement without question: namely, Margo Lane. It explained the

matter of the missing mosquito boat. The speedy craft in which Murk Wessel and his lieutenants had fled

Miami was identical with units of the mosquito fleet, and had been mistaken for such a boat.

It couldn't have been otherwise, as The Shadow reasoned it. With ten million dollars to lose, Murk and his

pals wouldn't have trusted a boat that could be outraced by anything else on Biscayne Bay.

Twelve mosquito boats had gone out by moonlight; only eleven had returned by day, a discrepancy forgotten

by everyone save The Shadow. Margo's count stood justified, though she didn't know it.

Not having heard about the mosquito fleet, Francisco Peridor still had a question for The Shadow. He put

"Yes. By day, they are workers on the grounds of the Casino Internacional, where they pass unrecognized. At

night, they are at Castenago's service. Their duty, this evening, was to assassinate me, as they did Durez.

The Shadow's statement ended with a whispered laugh induced by the gazes with which Peridor and

Mariquita acknowledged his words. He had convinced these friends that his theory was correct. The course

The very stratagem whereby Castenago had disposed of Durez was the weak link in the dictator's armor. If

revealed as the dabbler in international crime, the dictator would find himself an outcast. The unmasking of

ONLY The Shadow could have found the weak link in the chain with which Castenago fettered Centralba.

Visualizing the case from every angle, Francisco Peridor was fixed in that conclusion. Strange how the trail

Leading directly away from Castenago, it had come right back to the man itself, but what to do about it was a

Peridor, himself, was powerless and the same applied to Mariquita. What they had learned aroused their

hopes, but equally increased their danger. Should Castenago even suspect what they had learned, their lives

would be snuffed on the instant. Both felt that whatever aid they might supply, would be too feeble to assist

To their surprise, The Shadow deemed otherwise. First, he was counting upon Peridor to supply him with

needed information regarding Castenago. Details of the presidential palace could help, so Peridor supplied

them. Names of persons who might oppose Castenago could also be of use, but Peridor shook his head at the

No one dared oppose Castenago, he said, though many would relish the chance. That, in itself, bore one

promise. Should Castenago be exposed as an international plotter, any witness to the fact would so testify, if

In brief, Castenago was not surrounded by a council of plotters, for he trusted no one whose craft might even

approach his own. Instead, he depended upon human tools who were subject to intimidation. It would be a

During that discussion, The Shadow dropped the detailed information that Mariquita wanted. He mentioned

Colin Nayre and the fact that he had escaped by plane to somewhere in the Caribbean.

Though The Shadow did not definitely state that Nayre planned an immediate return to Centralba, Mariquita's

eyes glistened with eager hope. It was after she had gone that The Shadow told her father that Nayre might

"Nayre's safety, of course, depends on secrecy," declared The Shadow. "Should his path cross mine, I shall

acquaint him with the facts, though he is one person who might learn them independently. Our main issue,

There was a solemn nod from Peridor. He was racking his brain for a way to trap the dictator.

"That is easy enough," interrupted The Shadow. "Play into Castenago's hands through unwise statements.

Offer to eulogize Durez, as though you took Castenago's amnesty at face value. It will give Castenago

Wearily, Peridor smiled. He was tired of intrigue, but the suggestion pleased him. It would be a duel of wits

between La Sombra and Luis Castenago. Peridor was glad that he had found a friend who could supply the

strategy at which the professor himself had failed. This particular stroke was so in keeping with Peridor's

"It will help," Peridor agreed. "But to what end? Granted that Castenago has afforded refuge to assassins,

why need he ever admit it? If Wessel and his friends are discovered at the casino, Castenago can blame their

presence on Pierre Treban, the manager, who is a man of very questionable repute."

"The blame will fall on Castenago personally," assured The Shadow, "If he is found in company with the

"I know. That is why I was more interested in the presidential palace. We shall wait until the assassins visit

"To settle certain unfinished business," explained The Shadow. "So large a matter, that Castenago cannot

THE point struck home. Until this moment, Peridor had almost forgotten the Durez money. Now, he realized

why Castenago had been so generous toward the Durez faction. The dictator had merely entrusted them with

It fitted perfectly with the schemes of Castenago. Well did he, the master plotter, understand the workings of

Castenago had chosen Wessel as a man who would be satisfied with a fraction of the ten millions involved.

To a certain point, Murk would want all he could get; beyond that he would sacrifice the rest for protection,

It was a certainty that the stolen wealth now lay in the security of Castenago's secret vaults, which were so

Whatever percentage he had promised the assassins, Castenago would offer less, now that the work had been

Such was the significance of the laugh that Peridor heard, softly uttered by The Shadow's hidden lips. Nor did

The Shadow need to mention the logic that lay behind it. In fact, The Shadow himself was responsible for the

situation, because he had thinned the ranks of Wessel's crew in the battle at Miami Beach.

It would be the invariable story. Castenago, as the brain, would argue that since there were less crooks to

Contrarily, Wessel would claim that crime's hazard had proven greater than anticipated, therefore warranting

This wasn't the right time; it was the wrong time. The door of the room was thrust open by one of Peridor's

servants, who exploded a streak of Spanish, including the name "La Sombra," which he emphasized by

It wasn't necessary for Peridor to interpret. The Shadow understood, even though the servant's outpour was

Patrolling soldiers had found the gatomontes lying in the shrubbery. They were coming in to search the

mansion, to learn if it contained a lurker. As he finished, the servant drew his machete, brandishing it bravely,

to indicate that this time he would use it in The Shadow's service. Peridor was opening a table drawer to bring

"My visit must not be known," he told them. "Show me a quick way out. Afterward, claim that you did not

Peridor nodded. Though honest to a fault, he could carry through that bluff. It was possible in the case of La

Sombra, who came and vanished like the night itself. He told the servant to show The Shadow the short route

Lights were bobbing all about when The Shadow crept out through a forgotten door beneath the balcony of

Peridor's mansion. The patio was alive with police and soldiers, some on the balcony itself.

The other servant had opened the main door, but the search of the house had not begun because someone had

stumbled upon the sentry, who lay near the end of the balcony. Excitement over the new find produced a new

Barely escaping the sweep of lights, The Shadow was weaving out through the patio. He was near the gate

before he revealed his presence, with a challenging laugh that brought a quiver even from the crinkly palm

branches just above his head. Lights swung wildly; when one beam caught The Shadow, the others copied it.

IN the focused glare, a score of men saw The Shadow, half turned toward the gate, as though he had given up

He turned and backed his challenge by prompt stabs from a pair of guns. Those shots picked flashlights from

the hands that held them. Other lights went flying through the air, flung by their owners.

There wasn't a shot in return. Police and soldiers were diving for shelter before taking chances with The

The echo of the strident laugh was fading from the courtyard; for a few seconds, the only sound was the

hollow, plunking tune of the marimba outside the gates. Then came the crack of many guns from all about the

Castenago's uniformed men were gunning for The Shadow, only to be taunted by the laugh that they couldn't

find. He was cutting through the patio while they were aiming back where he had been.

As he sped, The Shadow delivered quick spurts from his guns, clipping foemen who huddled in the

shrubbery. Their return shots were badly wide, for The Shadow's mirth persisted.

Officers were howling orders, and by luck, someone struck upon the right one. Deep in the patio, The

Shadow's only outlet was the balcony. An officer yelled to seize him when he reached the steps, and men

were on hand when The Shadow arrived, but they hadn't bargained for the fight he gave them.

Changing tactics, The Shadow flung himself into the cluster of uniforms, slugging right and left.

Through the sprawling group, he reached the steps. Soldiers found their feet and stumbled after him. Along

the balcony, The Shadow's path was clear, or would have been if two police hadn't popped out suddenly from

Slugging one, The Shadow met the other in a grapple and flung him toward the steps. Spinning like a toy top,

the man in uniform lost his balance and floundered downward, spilling the stumblers who were coming up.

With The Shadow on the run, men in the patio took new chances with their flashlights. Spreading beams

showed The Shadow at the far end of the balcony. He was on the rail, reaching for the roof above. The

flashlights followed him, but guns were late. The Shadow had reached the roof, where he was protected from

From the roof, his next goal was to be the wall. Men at the patio gate were shooting wildly, while others

yelled The Shadow's destination. Two men heard it; they were the gatomontes, coming up the steps to the

Real sharpshooters, the gatomontes were following the balcony, sure that they could clip The Shadow in

It was a question whether he could complete the leap before the gatomontes could reach the end of the

balcony and aim past the inner corner. The Shadow was depending upon that corner as a delaying element.

If anything, he had the advantage, for he was launching from the roof when the sharpshooters reached the

center of the balcony. It might depend upon his landing when he struck the wall.

Timed to The Shadow's leap, something came scaling through the air from the direction of the gate. Briefly,

the flashlights caught an elongated object that couldn't be identified before it landed on the balcony. It struck

The thing exploded with a tremendous burst. It settled the gatomontes permanently, for they disappeared with

the explosion, along with a great chunk of the balcony. The rest of the balcony caved in, sliding a flattened

row of soldiers down into the patio, where they landed in a heap, to be showered by a tumble of debris.

STRIKING the wall just as the explosion ripped, The Shadow never paused. As if the outward concussion

gave him impetus, he used the wall as a mere steppingstone for a further leap beyond it.

So quickly did he travel, that the men in the patio, momentarily numbed by the bomb burst, couldn't believe

To their eyes, The Shadow simply vanished. The explosion couldn't have harmed him, for the wall where he

landed was intact. But it was quite as incredible to believe that he still existed. They'd seen him leaping,

they'd been dazzled by a great blaze of light, and The Shadow was gone with the blast!

A result quite to The Shadow's liking, for it would back the story that Francisco Peridor would tell. Dramatic

in itself, The Shadow's departure had been intensified by the timely bombshell that might have come from

Around the corner from the esplanade, The Shadow paused and peered along the sidewalk. He could hear a

babble from the patio, and its excitement carried out beyond the gates. The fiesta was over and the few

remaining students were scurrying away, as frightened as the pigeons. The marimba player was packing up

his gourds, anxious to get away from this dangerous vicinity. Very rapidly, the scene was becoming deserted.

Turning, The Shadow glided away from the wall and blended into darkness. As he went, he gave a strident

laugh that he knew would carry to the patio and increase the bewilderment there. Such mirth, carried on the

Tomorrow, all that had happened, and more, would be credited to a creature of blackness, with superhuman

prowess. A being who could clear a high wall at a single bound, blasting balconies behind him as he vanished

in midair, with a laugh so distant that it could have come from the crater of a smoking volcano miles beyond

They believed such things in Centralba, if given enough evidence to stir the native imagination. The

Shadow's own efforts, coupled with the arrival of the mysterious bomb, had supplied evidence in plenty.

Such talk would spread, and grow. Nothing could stop it, not even if Castenago issued a manifesto saying

CASTENAGO didn't issue any manifesto the next day; nor did Peridor decide to make his speech. Each was

wise in his way. Though Castenago's iron makeup was immune to superstition, he had enough of the Indian

in him to know the native mind. He was willing to hear the name "La Sombra" whispered by awed voices,

Out of the maudlin reports that police and soldiers gave him, Castenago heard enough to assure himself that

As for Peridor, he saw that his inflammatory speech could be reserved for a later occasion. The bomb blast

had accomplished enough for the present. In Centralba, bombs, no matter who cast them, meant one thing

Since the bomb had gone off in Peridor's patio, it was plain that he had enemies. No one ever threw bombs at

soldiers. It wasn't customary. Sniping at them with rifles was a popular pastime during a revolution, and

As for the gatomontes, no one ever did anything about them. They were a comparative novelty, and no

technique toward their disposal had yet been invented. Nor was anyone likely to brood over that particular

problem, since the gatomontes were the especial pets of Luis Castenago. They were good to leave alone,

hence it was regarded as quite accidental that two of them should have been at the exact place where a bomb

exploded. Too bad for the gatomontes, and even worse for the bomber, if Castenago ever found out who he

The guests at the Imperial Hotel heard some of the queer rumors, but only Margo Lane took them seriously.

She knew that "La Sombra" meant The Shadow, and she asked Kent Allard what he thought about it.

His attitude was one of complete indifference. He had other matters to worry about, so he said, though he

Margo dropped the hint that Lamont Cranston might be in Centralba, but Allard only shook his head. He was

quite sure that Cranston would have joined the party, had he arrived in Libertad. There, the subject rested.

Early in the afternoon, Margo had an inkling of what troubled Allard. An imposing car stopped in front of the

hotel and two palace guards came inside. When they went out, Allard was with them. Obviously, be had been

Margo decided that it must have something to do with the continuation of the air cruise. Perhaps Castenago

WHEN The Shadow reached the presidential palace, he was conducted farther than the reception room,

which pleased him, because it offered him a chance to check, firsthand, on information supplied by Peridor.

Everything tallied perfectly, even the dimensions of the various apartments which The Shadow saw. When he

was conducted along a side passage in an extensive wing, he knew where they were taking him. Peridor had

specially mentioned this passage. It led to an elevator that went up to Castenago's private council chamber.

The elevator was of the selfoperating type. The man who guided Allard pressed a button and the car came

down, with absolute silence. Bowed into the elevator, Allard found himself alone, but he didn't have to press

a button, because the car went up automatically. When it stopped, the door slid wide, revealing the council

Behind a long council table sat Luis Castenago, alone. He was busy going over papers, hence his eyes were

lowered. Behind him were murals flooded with his own figure, painted in life size.

One showed Castenago taking the oath of office; another depicted him delivering his inaugural address. The

third was Castenago casting the single ballot that made him president of Centralba for life.

No other faces appeared in the panels. Hence, there were four Castenagos in the room the one at the table

The living Castenago was as motionless as the painted ones, but there was no question as to his reality. He

must have known the exact time that it took the silent elevator to go down and up, for he spoke, without

"Good afternoon, Mr. Allard," he said politely. "We have an apology to offer you. It concerns the search that

Castenago's own eyes were searching as they finally looked up. They met a gaze equal to their own, the

steady one that The Shadow provided as Kent Allard. After a prolonged stare, Castenago turned away and

"I had no reason to suppose so," returned The Shadow coolly. "Everything was exactly as I left it."

"Two of my best men did the work," acknowledged Castenago in a pleased purr. "One moment, please, senor,

while I mark recommendations on their reports. I shall tell them that they owe thanks to you. You are sure

"Nothing except that the room smelled bad. But that didn't surprise me. The windows were open and the wind

The cold glint that flashed in Castenago's eyes turned to a reflective stare. He happened to remember that the

The volcano had been very smoky shortly after sunset, sending a drift of sulphur fumes toward Libertad.

Maybe Allard was allergic toward sulphur; but, from the look that Castenago finally gave him, he might learn

"I haven't told you the reason for the search," continued Castenago. "It happened that you left for the casino

"Quite so," resumed The Shadow. "I understood there was a fiesta, so I took a stroll around town. I met a pair

"They didn't see me. They were chasing fireflies at the time. I suppose they caught the fiesta fever."

ALLARD'S statement was so direct, that Castenago made a note of it. His gatomontes had one weakness, as a

rule. They tried to impress the senoritas, even when on duty. Since the belles of Libertad liked fireflies for

It happened that the dictator lacked a report from the gatomontes who had mistaken The Shadow's flashlight

for a firefly. The bomb that blasted Peridor's balcony had blotted them off Castenago's pay roll.

"My followers sometimes mistake my suggestions for commands," proceeded Castenago, narrowing his

smudgy eyebrows. "After the banquet, I suggested that you take your friends to the casino. When you left, it

"A search was therefore in order, according to a recent regulation. Had I been notified, I would have

The Shadow knew that Castenago was covering the facts of the search. It had actually begun while he was at

the casino, for it was over when he reached the hotel, to observe the car that had followed the cab.

Evidently Castenago was trying to learn if Allard had returned to the hotel at that time, so The Shadow didn't

Adroitly, Castenago shifted the subject. He dropped the matter of the preceding night and referred to plans for

the coming evening, at the same time introducing subtle reminders of the things he had already said.

"I understand that your friends enjoyed the casino," declared Castenago. "You will be there again this

"Neither, Senor Allard. Let us say, at my request. It is sometimes dangerous to move about in Libertad after

dark. Last night, something serious occurred an explosion at the home of Professor Peridor. Now, in your

"You told me that you would arrange for me to see Professor Peridor. I am still waiting, your excellency. In

"I did, senor!" The eyebrows were moving in accompaniment to Castenago's triumphant tone. "I want you at

the casino, so that I can reach you promptly as soon as I arrange the Peridor meeting. The bomb incident

makes it imperative to use caution in such a meeting. Not only for your safety, senor, but for mine; and,

Very cute of Castenago, sugarcoating everything in such smooth style. Noting Allard's nod of

acknowledgment, the dictator's thick lips stretched a smile above his undershot jaw. His eyes held their fixed

"I am holding a council meeting this evening. A usual session, but there is no way of knowing how long is

will last. One hour two perhaps more. Which is why I wish to have you available, senor. I shall call the

Castenago arose. He stiffened into a Napoleonic pose. When standing, he matched to an absolute degree the

lifesized portraits in their gilded frames. Perhaps he was practicing for another picture, which would portray

him issuing a decree. The Shadow had risen, also. He, too, was standing stiffly, until Castenago said:

"The audience is over. My secretary, Estaban, will escort you to your car, Senor Allard."

ESTABAN, small and sallow, stepped right up to the desk and bowed. Castenago was watching Allard's face

Not a flicker came. The Shadow had already observed the silence of Castenago's private elevator, and had

It was typical of Castenago, to have things fixed that way. In an emergency, he could have an assassin

dispose of an unwanted visitor by coming from the noiseless elevator, cross the heavily tufted floor, and

Probably Castenago had secret push buttons beneath the desk, where he could press them with his knee to

Since Castenago's own chair faced the elevator, he alone could see the solid door slide open. His plans, The

Shadow took it, would be so well arranged that Castenago wouldn't even have to signal. The mere pressure of

the correct knee button would bring the proper person for whatever he wanted. In this instance, Castenago

Despite his crude exterior, Castenago used subtlety in everything he did. The Shadow considered that point

while Estaban was conducting him downstairs. Castenago hadn't needed to bring the secretary, for he had let

Unquestionably, the dictator was trying to impress the point that a slinky assassin, or a pair of hefty

gatomontes, could have entered in place of the frail secretary. In brief, Castenago could have done with

Allard as he chose. Murder, arrest, or safeconduct from the palace all were the same to Luis Castenago,

Unquestionably, the demonstration hid a deeper purpose. Analyzing the case, The Shadow saw what it could

be. Castenago was assuming, of course, that Allard might be The Shadow. He wanted Allard to be at the

casino this evening. Therefore, it was logical that Murk Wessel and his fellow crooks would be absent from

That prospect fitted perfectly with what The Shadow had told Peridor: namely, that Castenago and Wessel

would have to hold a gettogether. It also jibed with Castenago's mention of a council meeting, a perfect

coverup for a parley between the dictator and Murk's outfit. Foreseeing such arrangements, The Shadow

The driver of Allard's car gave a sudden start. Though it was broad daylight, he fancied that he had heard a

faint echo from the distance. A strange sound, no louder than a whisper, but it was grimly mirthful, matching

Anxiously, the driver peered toward the smoking cone of Lotomoro and hoped that the reviving demons of

IT was still daylight when Kent Allard arrived at the Casino Internacional. A mild play had started at the

roulette tables, and Pierre Treban, the dapper manager of the casino, was on hand. He gestured Allard to a

"I came to find out if the casino had opened," said Allard. "Also to learn if my friends could dine here."

Treban bowed toward a far door, saying that it was his office and that a telephone was available there. So The

Using Allard's tone, he asked her to tell the others that the casino was open. Then, formally, he added:

"I should like to have you dine with me, Miss Lane, here at the casino. If you wish, I can come back to the

"That won't be necessary," assured Margo. "I'll come to the casino. Where will you be? At the roulette table?"

The call was finished and The Shadow was opening the office door, when Treban appeared. What the dapper

man said convinced The Shadow of what he had already guessed: that the office telephone was tapped.

"Ah, Senor Allard," spoke Treban. "So you have called your friends. Perhaps, while you await them, you

Escorted by Treban, The Shadow started his tour of the extensive gardens. It was only too plain that Treban

was conducting him through the finished sections keeping strictly away from places where workmen were

planting new shrubs. Amidst his polite gesticulations, Treban kept glancing at the sun.

He was trying to stall until sunset, when the workers quit; but his scheme failed. As Treban pointed to a

gorgeous bed of poppies, Allard looked the other way, through a miniature forest of thin bamboo that

With that, Allard started by path around the bamboo thicket. Treban shouted after him, causing a group of

The Shadow saw their faces, those of Murk Wessel and kindred rats, before they could duck away. However,

Treban was trying to shoo the phony workmen toward the casino. He stopped when Allard looked his way.

He'd timed things neatly. Margo had actually arrived in the garden. Hurrying to greet her, The Shadow was

"Keep watching those workmen, but don't let Treban notice. Try to see where they go."

Treban joined them, and kept watching Allard to make sure he didn't look the wrong way which made it

easy for Margo. Suggesting that Margo might like to see the flowers, Treban conducted them on another short

Finally, they arrived back in the office. Treban left them in order to reserve a dinner table.

Allard's gesture stopped a question that was on Margo's lips. The Shadow knew that the entire office might be

wired to pick up conversation there. He proffered a cigarette; then lighted his own. He strolled to the wall and

examined a framed floor plan of the casino. He'd finished when Treban returned to conduct them to a

"They went into a little door at the inner corner of the wing," said Margo. "But they didn't look like natives.

"Very probably. Some ugly customers followed me when I left the casino last night. That's why I wanted to

THE waiter had arrived to take the order. The Shadow gave him a steady look and decided he was all right.

Margo saw Allard draw a gold piece from his pocket and drop it on the table. The coin flipped over; it had

two heads. That was the way with all gold coins in Centralba. Castenago's image was stamped on both sides.

"If I like the dinner, this goes double." Apparently, Allard thought the waiter had stepped away. "What's

more, we'll dine here again tomorrow night, and call for the same waiter, if he proves a good one. I like

Margo caught the idea and helped by giving an embarrassed gesture. Allard looked up to see the waiter.

Pocketing the gold piece, as if for future reference, Allard let it clink against another in his pocket and

The waiter bowed in a manner that indicated he would be utterly discreet. He went away as soon as the order

"That fellow won't say a word to Treban," assured Allard. "But keep an eye out while I'm gone."

"I'm going to find them!" Allard's manner was emphatic. "From what I saw of the floor plan, I won't have any

The Shadow had no trouble, despite the fact that he was making his excursion as Allard; not as a figure

It was dark outside and the gloom had pervaded the casino, except where brilliant chandeliers shone upon the

gaming tables. Moreover, the coolness that always came from nightfall had brought a great many more

It was easy for Allard to sidle through the edges of the throng and reach the pillars that supported the

surrounding balcony. There were promenades behind those pillars, dimly lighted and deserted. Easing along,

It led to a passage, where The Shadow reached a side stairs. Going down, he picked his way about, through

the passages and rooms on the floor below, using his tiny flashlight in the probe. He was narrowing the quest

to a room shown on the floor plan, which had been marked "respiradero de mina," signifying an air shaft.

Much too large for an air shaft, the marked room had struck The Shadow as a likely hideout for Murk

Halfway across a storeroom, The Shadow halted, then took a swift turn toward a clothcovered bulk in the

corner. The thing was a shrouded roulette table, reserve equipment for the gambling hall upstairs.

Crouching, The Shadow was gone from sight when a metal partition slid open at the end of the room. Pierre

Treban stepped into sight, plain against the light behind him. He was coming from the socalled air chamber.

Letting Treban go by, The Shadow approached the partition and slid it open, just a crack. Through the space

he saw Murk Wessel and the other crooks, sitting on the edge of cots under a hanging lamp. They'd just

"So Castenago wants to see us," Murk was saying. "I told you we'd be hearing from him soon enough."

"Yeah," put in a crook. "But he didn't say anything about giving us the cut we asked for."

"Why should he?" demanded Murk. "Treban is only the gobetween. Castenago is going to talk to us,

personal. Don't worry about us getting ours. I'll make him boost the ante, if anything."

"By playing up this Shadow business. Maybe His Nibs is worried. Those monkeys of his met up with The

Shadow last night, and didn't do a thing about it. We're the guys Castenago needs."

There were mutters of doubt. Murk's followers hadn't forgotten what happened to their pals in Miami Beach.

They were figuring that Murk was playing into Castenago's probable argument that less money would be

satisfactory, if each man received a larger share. Maybe there would be larger shares, if thugs met up with

The Shadow. Larger, for those who survived. Understanding the grumbles, Murk silenced them.

"That's only the line I'm going to hand Castenago," he assured. "What we asked for, with a bonus later, when

IN the pleased responses, The Shadow caught references to "a million bucks," which indicated that Castenago

had promised a straight ten percent to Murk for knocking off Durez and bringing the funds back to the

It wasn't surprising that Murk had settled for so little. A million dollars was probably far beyond any of his

crooked dreams. Besides, ten millions wouldn't have been worth ten cents, had he stayed in the United States

after his crime, or even fled to any country other than Centralba. Murk was marked; safe only through

"Get ready, guys," declared Murk. "We're due at the palace soon. We'll sneak out and give a flash to Treban.

He'll flash back from his office when everything's ready. The gatomontes will be along the route, signaling if

"Treban says we'll have an hour before the council meeting. Castenago wants to have a session with us first,

and let his regular stooges wait. An hour's enough. It won't take us long to sell our idea to Big Chin Face. I'm

The partition had closed. The Shadow was returning upstairs. Margo had finished her first course, and the

next was waiting, so Allard told the waiter to serve it and bring the rest along. As soon as the waiter had

"I'll stay about twenty minutes. After that, if anyone asks you, just say that I'm still around. I found those

fellows, and they're going to the presidential palace. Somebody has to do something about it."

Margo gained the impression that "somebody" was The Shadow, and that Allard intended to inform him of

the brewing trouble. She still believed that Lamont Cranston had come to Libertad and had established

Twenty minutes later, Allard was on his way and Margo was finishing her desert alone. As she left the table,

she saw Treban approaching, and walked straight past him, looking toward the roulette players as though

Treban cocked his head, looked at the table that Margo had left, and promptly went back to his office. Margo

hoped he wasn't going to call Castenago. Allard hadn't had much time yet to contact Cranston.

Margo wouldn't have worried had she been able, at that moment, to see them both Allard and Cranston,

rolled into one personality: The Shadow. He was in the back room of the little shop which he used as

Something rolled from the shelf, and The Shadow caught it before it fell, to turn his flashlight on it. The thing

was a hollow wooden egg, that broke open slightly, to show a smaller egg within it.

A novelty of Japanese manufacture, popular years ago in America, and probably something new today in

Centralba. The Shadow laughed softly as he replaced the wooden egg upon the shelf.

It made him think of the coming situation: a game within a game. Perhaps it would have been better had The

Shadow let the wooden egg fall to the floor. He'd have remembered, then, that there were still more eggs

within it, a whole nest of them, that would have cracked apart, down to the smallest egg that formed the tiny

When Luis Castenago played a game with a game, there were apt to be games inside that game, and many of

IT was a very swift and easy trip to the presidential palace, for The Shadow took short cuts, through narrow

Last night, there had been gatomontes lurking among the buildings, and merrymakers thronging the plazas,

This evening, the gatomontes were watching the streets, to make sure that a certain car coming from the

casino was neither followed nor intercepted; while the plazas were deserted because there was no fiesta. In

fact, The Shadow didn't have the slightest bother, until he reached the palace itself.

There were soldiers, palace guards, around the fountains above the great marble steps. They had hired a

strolling marimba player to entertain with his music, and the mellow notes of the instrument were blending

There was too much light for entry by that route, but the presence of so many soldiers pleased The Shadow. It

meant that there would be less inside the palace, and probably none around their own headquarters, the

presidio. So The Shadow skirted the palace, scaled the low roof of the rear building, and took a look at a large

The yard was a cement parade ground, very dim in the darkness behind the palace. Footsteps would clatter a

warning if they arrived there, so The Shadow calmly stretched to the nearest window of the palace and

Once inside, he worked his way through darkness, with the occasional use of his tiny flashlight. He took a

look from a side window to make sure that no cars had yet arrived, bringing the members of Castenago's

Seeing no cars, The Shadow took his time. He was quite sure that Castenago and Wessel would prolong their

However well Murk's offer impressed Castenago, the dictator would try to chisel on the price, because if he

didn't, Murk would try to raise it. If they did come to terms, Castenago would want Murk to detail just how

he would go after The Shadow, and in turn, Wessel would have to stall over that particular question.

With fifteen minutes still to go before the hour when the regular council met, The Shadow had enough time;

The Shadow was playing for the perfect moment. It would come when Castenago was ready to end his

present conference, to make ready for the next. Bold though it seemed, The Shadow intended to hold one

group until the other arrived, thus placing Murk Wessel Co. on exhibit for the members of the Centralban

It was something that Castenago would never wipe off, and the stroke was possible. The Shadow intended to

Through the almostdeserted palace, which he knew quite well from Peridor's information, The Shadow

reached the elevator leading up to the council room. He'd seen a few secretaries, like Estaban, but had easily

glided from sight behind the filigreed pillars and fancy doors so prevalent throughout the palace.

The Shadow made a quick search with his eyes, to make sure that no one was near the elevator passage; then

Stepping into the elevator, The Shadow waited while the door slid shut. The car started its upward trip, and

during the ride, the cloaked invader produced his automatics. He was at the very front of the elevator when it

stopped, and as the door slid aside, he made a quick twist through the opening into the lighted council

As he came, The Shadow issued a sinister laugh that left no doubt as to his identity. There were figures about

It was straight for the thicknecked dictator that The Shadow directed one bulging gun, giving it an upward

gesture. The move brought Castenago to his feet, hands half raised, making it impossible for him to use the

Meanwhile, The Shadow's other gun was circling the table, ready to explode if a single person defied him.

The piercing burn of the eyes beneath The Shadow's hat brim were meant for all to see. Rats like Murk

Wessel couldn't take a chance, now that The Shadow had cowed Castenago in the tyrant's own lair.

The Shadow knew. Yet, with such knowledge, his next laugh faded on his lips as frightened faces met his

These men with Castenago weren't Murk Wessel and his brood of murderers. They were dignified

Centralbans, half a dozen of them, some with darkbearded faces; others with sallow countenances that had

They didn't exclaim, "The Shadow," as crooks would have. The name they uttered was:

RIVETED, The Shadow understood. He had broken right into the middle of a bona fide council meeting.

Stooges or not, these were the men who represented the law in Centralba, and The Shadow had mistakenly

disclosed himself in a manner that would cause them to regard him as an armed malefactor.

These were the very men to whom The Shadow had intended to reveal Castenago's masquerade, by

How neatly had Castenago called the turn! The smile on his evil lips was an answer to the simple riddle that

Castenago had called the council meeting early. The Shadow hadn't seen the cars, because they had come and

gone. Positive that Kent Allard was The Shadow; sure that the mysterious crimehunter would check on the

movements of Wessel's crew, Castenago had bluffed regarding a meeting with the crooks, to place The

It was, indeed, a false light, but with it, The Shadow recognized a true one. Murk Wessel and his cronies had

certainly come to the palace, for Castenago knew that The Shadow might have chosen to trail them all the

Three smiles, all painted ones, on the lifesized portraits that filled the walls behind the dictator's chair. The

Shadow noted narrow cracks between the portraits and the side of the frames. There were six such side

frames, in all, and one hadn't been pushed aside. Castenago had probably wanted it that way, as an index

Each of five cracks showed the slight gleam of a gun muzzle, signifying that Murk Wessel and his four

Remembering that Peridor had mentioned an old council room adjoining the new one, The Shadow

understood the rest. Castenago had probably left the council before the crooks arrived, and smuggled the

Quick were The Shadow's mental flashes. Murk and his men weren't shooting; therefore, they weren't going

to start until Castenago gave the word, which he wouldn't, unless the pinch became absolute.

He might excuse the fact that killers were hidden behind the portraits, on the pretext that they were protecting

the council meeting. Good enough, if the councilors never learned who the marksmen were.

There was a stronger reason why Castenago hadn't ordered immediate gunfire. Castenago was personally on

the spot. He had to be. Without Castenago at the council table, The Shadow would have suspected something

wrong and wheeled back into the shelter of the elevator. To really trap The Shadow, Castenago had to be

If shooting started, Murk's marksman would riddle The Shadow, but never fast enough to prevent his delivery

of a few shots, too. The first of those would be for Castenago. Ridding a nation of a tyrant would be a

triumph for The Shadow, even in death. It was even possible that he would voluntarily make such choice, and

That was why Castenago had another card up his sleeve; or, more correctly, a pair of them. He looked toward

a front corner of the room, which formed an alcove that couldn't be sighted from the elevator door.

"Please step forward," said Castenago in Spanish. "You, Professor Peridor, and your daughter."

THEY came forward, Peridor and Mariquita, only to halt when they caught a quick glint from The Shadow's

eyes. Peridor's own gaze was sad, Mariquita's pleading. They wanted The Shadow to know that they had no

Castenago had ordered them brought to the palace, presumably to answer questions when the council

investigated last night's bombing. There had been no way for them to get word to The Shadow.

Fortunately, they understood that The Shadow wanted them to halt where they were. Thus, he prevented them

from blocking his aim toward Castenago, who still held his rigid, handlifted pose.

Looking again toward Castenago, The Shadow wanted them to halt dictator's manner. Castenago's own life

was safe, because The Shadow would desist from suicidal action that would produce the deaths of Peridor

and Mariquita, as well as his own. Safe, at least, if he dismissed those gunners behind the portraits.

"Ah, Senor Sombra," spoke Castenago smoothly. "We have heard that you, too, were witness to events last

night. You have come here armed, perhaps because you do not trust us. It would be better if we could talk as

He was making slight backward gestures with his hands. One by one, the gun muzzles were retiring, the

portrait frames sliding back in place. The Shadow was lowering the automatic that covered Castenago, so the

When the last of Murk's guns had disappeared, The Shadow placed both automatics on the table and turned to

"You have the words of El Piojo." Speaking in fluent Spanish, The Shadow was referring to Castenago by the

official title which the dictator had assumed as supreme ruler of Centralba. "I now call upon you to bear

witness that I have accepted his terms. Disarmed, I surrender to this council, not to El Piojo. I am ready to

A strong stroke on The Shadow's part. He had definitely curbed the menace of hidden guns. Castenago

couldn't recall Murk and the other crooks if he wanted. Even in Centralba there were distinctions between law

It was through the nicety of those distinctions that Castenago held the support of this council. Though he

could have eliminated them individually, by mere snaps of his fingers, taken altogether, they were too strong

Professor Peridor, himself, had assured The Shadow on that point; therefore, The Shadow was acting on a

friend's advice. But Peridor had added a strong warning, one that The Shadow had evidently forgotten, much

Very definitely, Peridor had stated that Castenago, so long as he operated by stated regulations, could sway

Thus, The Shadow, in removing a menace that Peridor hadn't seen, had placed himself in the pathway of

Watching Castenago, Peridor saw the bigjawed dictator take The Shadow's guns and toss them carelessly

into a table drawer, as a symbol of good faith that wasn't in Castenago's mind. The broad smile on

It was no longer a duel between Castenago and The Shadow. The game had reached another, inner stage. This

game was fixed the way Castenago liked it. Stepping from behind the table, Castenago spoke in cunning

"THESE worthy friends of ours," he said, "are still with us only because they escaped a bomb planted in the

patio of their home. That bomb caused the death of two gatomontes. I, your leader, El Piojo, have sworn that

I shall find the man responsible, and bring him to trial for his crime before this council."

The approval of the council was unanimous. They rose to their feet to express it. Peridor and Mariquita knew

what was coming next. Their words drowned out by the council's chorus, they sprang to The Shadow's side to

It was then too late. The door was sliding open. Castenago had pressed a button before leaving his chair. Four

palace guards strode into the council room; at Castenago's command, two of them drew Peridor and his

"I have kept my promise!" boomed Castenago to the councilors. "Every witness who saw the bombing at

Peridor's has borne testimony to the presence of a single stranger, commonly regarded as the culprit. I refer to

this prisoner, who calls himself 'La Sombra.' It is right that he should be the first man to come to trial!"

Peridor and Mariquita heard the final words as two guards led them into the elevator. As the silent door slid

It was a strangely whispered laugh, that mocked the pretense that was known as justice in this realm where

Castenago stood supreme. A challenge to the dictator and his power, that mirth that was The Shadow's.

A futile laugh, it seemed, coming from a man on trial for his life before a tribunal governed by a human fiend

THE Shadow's trial was worse than a travesty on justice. It was so filled with precedent and citations of

It made The Shadow understand why so many Centralbans had accepted the yoke of Castenago. For the

He was using the old, timehonored laws of his country in this trial; not recent regulations of his own device.

Castenago knew those laws by heart; evidently he'd spent months going through the statutes, picking out

By Centralban law, a prisoner was considered guilty until he proved himself innocent. This, Castenago

argued, was much preferable to the reverse system established by English law. It meant that the judge,

himself, became an advocate in behalf of the prisoner, which Castenago promptly proceeded to do.

He suggested that La Sombra might have an alibi; if not, that he might be able to accuse some other person of

the bombing. When The Shadow offered no help along these lines, Castenago obligingly tried other ways to

Always, Castenago used the title: "La Sombra." He did so for a reason that he tactfully did not mention:

namely, if The Shadow proved himself other than a citizen of Centralba, he could demand an appeal to the

Castenago didn't want that to happen. Hence he talked of La Sombra as an established fixture in Libertad.

Castenago almost struck a snag when one of the councilors suggested that La Sombra remove his hat and

reveal his features, on the chance that someone would recognize them. Castenago rode over that one by citing

The thing went back almost to the time of the Spanish conquest, when the Indians had objected to having

their names reduced to pronounceable form. Nevertheless the law still stood, and it settled the entire problem.

Should The Shadow unmask, he would no longer be La Sombra, which was unquestionably his chosen name.

Thus did Castenago prevent the council from identifying The Shadow as Allard, a man whom most of them

had met. In turn, it further prevented them from learning that he was an American.

He had The Shadow in a dilemma. To reveal himself as Allard, in defiance of Castenago's legal

interpretation, he would be disclosing the true identity of The Shadow, thereby rendering it useless in the

future. Contrarily, by keeping his identity concealed, The Shadow was placing himself beyond redress from

He could order Allard's deportation; he could demand the execution of La Sombra. From Castenago's

viewpoint, it was unfortunate that two paths were open to the prisoner, for he would prefer to dispose of The

But Castenago, in his own neat way, was working to close the first path, that of banishment, and make death

Since The Shadow offered no defense, Castenago decided to call in the witnesses. In accordance with a law

dating from the eighteenth century, this was never done in the presence of the accused. So Castenago

"You will be detained there," Castenago told The Shadow, "until the trial is ended. I shall deem it my especial

EVERY member of the palace guard was along The Shadow's route to the presidio. The fancy soldiers totaled

more than fifty, and nearly a score of gatomontes supplemented them. Castenago was taking no chances on

Crossing the cement courtyard, The Shadow was marched into a cell block and placed in immediate

The cell chosen for him was the strongest in the block. Its barred door was so heavy that it took two soldiers

Having incarcerated the prisoner, the guard captain took the keys personally. He put four men on duty at each

Castenago not only feared the guards might be bribed; he knew that The Shadow might play upon their

superstitions. Hence, he had ordered that no one should have contact with the prisoner.

The cell had a metal cot, which could stand on three legs as well as four, provided no one lay on it. The

Shadow wasn't sleepy, so he removed one of the cot legs and tried it on the barred window.

The bars were too stout, and too deeply embedded in concrete, to be demolished by the lever that The

Shadow employed. Besides, the window opened into the courtyard, where any clatter on the bars would be

Pausing a few moments, The Shadow stared through the bars. The night was very mild, and sounds carried

far. He could hear the patter of the fountains and the music of the marimba. The local musicians generally

stayed up all night, along with the rest of the inhabitants. It was all very pleasant and lulling, but The Shadow

Instead, he tried the cot leg on the stone wall beneath the window, and found that results were easy. The cell

was below ground level, and therefore damp. The stones were moldy, and mortar between them gone.

It was no trick at all to pry out a couple of stones and dig into those beyond. The Shadow amused himself

with the task for a long while until his hope of an escape was suddenly terminated.

Two thirds of the way through the thick wall, The Shadow came upon an outer layer of new, and very solid,

masonry. The cot leg proved about as useful as a can opener against the obstacle in question.

It was like Castenago, to bulwark his cells from the outside. Probably, dozens of other prisoners before The

Shadow had supposed that they could hack their way through, only to meet with disappointment.

The Shadow tossed away the leg of the cot and sat down on the other end. He still had cigarettes, so he

lighted one and considered the Castenago question. The Shadow's case hadn't yet reached the fatal stage. He

could always bargain with Castenago, and the miserly dictator would certainly listen to terms that involved a

Since Murk Wessel was willing to talk about eliminating The Shadow for a price, the thing could work the

In fact, Castenago would prefer an offer from The Shadow. Maybe he was even playing for one; another case

The Shadow's price would simply be that of life, and Castenago would save a cold million cash. Moreover,

he'd go through with the bargain of eliminating Murk, whereas Castenago would doubt that Murk could ever

A very nice arrangement, since The Shadow had come to Libertad with the rightful idea of hunting down

Murk Wessel to begin with. There was just one thing about it that The Shadow did not like.

He would have to pledge that he would never again disturb Luis Castenago. To The Shadow, such a

compromise would be as bad as an actual alliance with the notorious tyrant. It would be better to find another

Deep in thought, The Shadow listened to the sounds from outside. Softly, he laughed. His whispered mirth

MEANWHILE, within the palace, Castenago had come downstairs, after a long session with his council. He

stopped in the reception room, where Peridor and Mariquita were waiting, under guard. With a profound

"The council has heard the evidence," declared the dictator. "The witnesses are gone, and the case is under

Indignantly, Peridor arose. For once, he was ready to defy the wrath of Castenago.

"With you to be the judge!" stormed Peridor. "Never, during your regime, has there been justice in

Frantically, Mariquita was trying to draw her father back into his chair, fearing that Castenago would

summarily order the guards to take him to the presidio. To her amazement, Castenago bowed again and spoke

"You forget, Senor Peridor, that my policy is to be lenient. I was forced to show strength only because our

government was weak. Having established my regime, I seek to balance power with justice. I assure you, I

Peridor, himself, was surprised; half inclined to believe. He remembered Castenago's compromise with

Durez, only to recall that it had meant murder outside of Centralba, according to The Shadow.

Still, there might be facts in Castenago's favor, and Peridor couldn't disregard the point that Durez, in his own

"I swear by the name of Castenago," purred the heavybrowed dictator, "that you will hear the final verdict

When Castenago backed a pledge with his own name, it counted. The dictator of Centralba was too

egotistical to let himself down. When Castenago bowed himself from the room, Peridor actually felt at ease,

and so did Mariquita. Neither had caught the full interpretation that Castenago had put into his words.

MORE hours passed. Dawn was near when Castenago again left the council chamber. This time, he did not

stop to speak to Peridor, but went directly to the presidio. He entered the cell block and stopped at the door

Castenago smiled when he saw the uprooted stones that told of The Shadow's futile efforts. Then the

"The council found La Sombra guilty," he declared. "I asked for clemency, pleading for another trial at least.

Unfortunately, I was outvoted. You have only one hope: I can still reprieve the sentence. I might do so, if it

would lead to the permanent removal of certain enemies who are a threat to myself and my country."

Castenago was fishing for the offer that would save him a million dollars. The Shadow did not accept the

"Centralba has only one enemy," spoke The Shadow. "His name is Luis Castenago! If you give me my

freedom, I shall allow you one privilege, Castenago that of suicide for the honor of the country that was

Calmly, The Shadow was banking upon one policy of Castenago's. The dictator loved to display false

friendship to his victims before their executions. It was almost a certainty that he would follow the rule in

The Shadow's case. With a solemn bow, Castenago proved that he was acting true to form.

"You shall die at dawn," said Castenago, "but, meanwhile, I shall not forget that you are my guest. I have

"Thoughtful of you," returned The Shadow. "But what are food and drink without music? I shall miss it."

Distant, the tones of a marimba floated through the bars of the cell. Castenago smiled as he said:

The marimba player arrived with the guards, who were bringing buckets of champagne and a tray of caviar

sandwiches. The Shadow invited them to join him in the feast, which they did, since there were too many to

The marimba player plodded through a tune; then took time out for a drink of champagne.

"Those gourds of yours," he said, in a dialect that the musician would understand. "How long do they take to

"As long as you wish," he replied. "Certain of them." He moved his hand along the lines of hanging ovals and

"Give La Sombra one that will grow in half an hour," the guard suggested. "It must be one that blossoms in

the darkness, if he wishes to see it bloom. It will be dawn in half an hour, and then La Sombra dies."

With another laugh, the marimba player continued the jest by plucking one of the larger gourds from beneath

the keyboard. He fingered it, then passed it through the bars. As The Shadow received the gourd, the laughter

Not to be outdone, The Shadow decided to plant the gourd. He set it in the useless hole that he had dug. Then,

to the continued amusement of the onlookers, he pushed the loose stones back in place, wedging them more

The guards admired The Shadow's sangfroid, and declared that Castenago would have appreciated it. They

promised to relate the incident to the dictator. So they had another round of champagne, while the marimba

Faint streaks of dawn were showing through the window. The Shadow drew a slip of paper from beneath his

cloak and wrote a brief message. With a headshake, he tore it up and let fragments fall to the floor.

From his pocket, he produced some gold coins and reached through the bars, pressing them into the marimba

The clank of a saber announced the captain of the guard. The soldiers came to attention while the door of the

cell was being unlocked. The time for The Shadow's execution had arrived. There was only a few minutes

Marching toward the courtyard, between the ranks of riflemen, The Shadow glanced behind him and saw the

marimba player following, with his bulky instrument. As they reached the door, they turned toward the

Dawn and death. Odd that the combination should have brought a whispered laugh from The Shadow's lips!

CEREMONY was brief when they reached the courtyard. Guards were everywhere, with gatomontes in

reserve. Faces showed at windows of the palace those of Castenago and his council but neither Peridor

The Shadow's only approach to a friend was the marimba player, who stopped beneath an archway and set

It might be that he was only curious about the execution. Many enemies of Castenago had met death in this

courtyard, but seldom were members of the outside public allowed to witness such events.

The captain of the guard was very polite. He marched The Shadow to a wall, and offered him a blindfold. The

Shadow shook his head; he didn't want it. Looking toward Castenago's window, he saw the dictator

acknowledge his glance with a bow. Castenago was always pleased when men were brave enough to face a

All the while, The Shadow was mentally counting the minutes. He still had nearly two to go before the half

hour was complete. He could see the edge of the sun above the low wall, and it fitted perfectly with the next

Turning to the guard captain, The Shadow transcended all tradition. He had refused the blindfold, which

"The sun is shining in the eyes of the firing squad," he declared. "They should not be inconvenienced by it. I

would prefer to take the burden. A favor, perhaps, but it is very slight, considering that I shall not be with you

With his gestures, The Shadow explained the words to those who could not hear them, Castenago and the

Catching the inference first, Castenago passed it along to the others. The scene delighted the dictator. Never

before had any of his victims accepted the firing squad with such magnificent grace. Castenago waved from

The captain therewith gave The Shadow the privilege of choosing his spot along the wall. The Shadow

deliberated, counting down to the last dozen seconds. Then, beckoning to the captain, he started for the spot

he wanted. It happened to be against the wall outside the very cell where The Shadow had been confined.

Fifteen seconds to cross the courtyard. That was why The Shadow allowed only ten. He and the

accompanying captain had slightly more than twenty feet to go, when they were hurled back on their tracks.

The thing that stopped them was an explosion quite as terrific as the one at Peridor's. The blast not only

staggered The Shadow and his companion; it caused the firing squad to flatten on their faces, for it sounded

Castenago and his councilors ducked, for the window from which they gazed came crashing back into their

That damage was trivial compared with the real wreckage that the bomb produced. The blast ripped a huge

hole in the center of the cell block, at the very spot where The Shadow had been a prisoner.

First to recover, The Shadow was on his feet, dashing for the jagged opening in the wall. Again, he was

performing the unexpected. The Shadow hadn't managed to break out of that cell, but he had found a way of

Castenago was bellowing from the window, and the members of the firing squad were grabbing up their

rifles. By then, The Shadow was gone through the grayish smoke that clouded the gaping wall.

They fired, and the crack of the rifles was answered by a trailing laugh: the farewell of The Shadow. A

For The Shadow was in the cell before the guns were fired, and once in it, he was on the way out.

NO one had thought of locking the huge door again, because it was unnecessary and too much trouble. In one

way, through, and out the other, The Shadow was dashing along the cell block, to the door where a surprised

As he went, a great clang sounded behind him. In leaving the cell, The Shadow had done the work that

ordinarily took two men. He had swung the heavy door of the death cell. One of its locks worked

Piling through the smokecleared hole in the wall, the members of the firing squad were stopped short by the

cell door, where they gabbled like monkeys in a cage while the captain was trying to find the key that would

At that moment, The Shadow was reappearing in the courtyard. Two gatomontes saw him, but hadn't time to

draw their revolvers. The Shadow settled them with the rifle that he plucked when the astonished guard

dropped it. He drove the butt end of the rifle against one man's chest; made a crossswing that brought the

Turning toward Castenago's window, The Shadow was ready to aim the rifle, but the bigjawed dictator had

So The Shadow sped out through the archway. He saw gatomontes running one direction, so he took the

other, to a corner of the wall. There, The Shadow turned to see what was happening.

Castenago's greenclad storm troopers were chasing the marimba player, who was packing his musical

A girl screamed from a window of the palace. The voice was Mariquita's. She and her father had been

awaiting the announcement of the verdict, not knowing that Castenago intended it to be the shots of a firing

Instead, a huge blast had told of Castenago's treachery, but in looking for the cause, Mariquita saw only the

She recognized him, which wasn't at all surprising, for she loved him. The fleeing man was Colin Nayre!

Before pursuers could overtake the fugitive, The Shadow's rifle crackled. Its shots spilled gatomontes as fast

as they grabbed for Nayre, but the others dived for shelter where The Shadow couldn't reach them.

By then, more shots were unnecessary. Nayre was on the cart, which was starting away. He was plucking

Each gourd exploded as it struck, taking a vast chunk from the street. Nayre was quite close to the

gatomontes when he chucked the first few gourds. After that, he didn't have to worry. The disguised bombs

had abolished the nearest foemen, and the rest were climbing for the palace windows, hoping they'd be safe

Dragged by a pair of ardently galloping mules, the cart vanished around the corner of the palace.

Tossing away the rifle, the Shadow turned the other way. The thick green foliage of a plaza offered all the

cover that he needed. Like Nayre, The Shadow was gone when guards began streaming from the courtyard.

FROM dawn on, that day became the most exciting in the whole regime of Luis Castenago. The dictator sent

Peridor and his daughter back to their mansion, shipped the councilors from the palace, and began issuing

manifestoes by the dozen. The national currency went up in value, because the printing presses were busy

Rewards were offered for the capture of The Shadow and a marimba player who might be Colin Nayre. As

fast as the gatomontes posted one batch of bills, another was ready, offering a higher price.

It wasn't until noon that Castenago settled down. Rewards, no matter how great their promise, wouldn't bring

He issued a new proclamation. It was addressed to Kent Allard. It stated that he was exonerated of all blame

in the escape of The Shadow, but that he was advised to leave Centralba within the next twentyfour hours.

His plane was waiting at the airport, fully gassed, and nothing would be done to impede his departure.

Word of that order passed among Allard's friends. Following their afternoon siesta, they gathered to discuss

it. Apparently, they were free to leave Libertad whenever they chose, either in Allard's plane, or in some

Most of them preferred to leave with Allard, if he could be found. Since he hadn't shown himself, it seemed

more sensible to take the night train to the coast. So they packed, with one exception.

The exception was Margo Lane. She was in an absolute dilemma. Castenago's proclamation, very oddly,

backed her own opinion that Allard couldn't be The Shadow. She knew, however, that The Shadow was the

main cause of the confusion, so she naturally stuck to her theory that Lamont Cranston was in Libertad.

She even had the idea that the missing marimba player might be Cranston, rather than Nayre. On that

account, Margo dined early at the hotel, and stayed around the extensive lobby, hoping that The Shadow

She was gazing hopefully from a corner of the veranda, when she saw a strolling cluster of mariachis, with

One musician paused to serenade the American senorita. Finishing a short tune, he looked about, then

"Then you weren't the marimba player!" she exclaimed. "The one that Castenago seeks."

"I don't know," confessed Nayre. "He wrote a note, and gave me a piece of it when he tore it up and threw the

The note consisted of three words. It said: "See John Smith." Margo showed it to Nayre, who smiled.

"You won't find many John Smiths in Libertad," he said. "I'd advise looking in the telephone book."

Margo went back into the lobby and consulted the thin directory. She found but one John Smith. His address

She rejoined Nayre and told him about it. He suggested that she go ahead; that he would follow, quite safely,

"It's after dark," declared Nayre, "so everything is safe, unless Castenago suspects. If you run into trouble,

TROUBLE threatened as soon as Margo reached the address given in the note. It wasn't a residence; it was a

The store itself was a Japanese shop, which worried Margo all the more, for she knew how Japanese had

Nevertheless, Margo entered. Behind the counter she saw the bowing Japanese proprietor, who gave her an

inquiring gaze. No one else was in the place, but through the front window Margo could see Nayre, in his

mariachi disguise. He was already coming across the street, suspicious of the shop that Margo had entered.

At the Jap's question, Margo turned. She nodded, at the same time giving the signal that she knew would

Before the Japanese could answer, Nayre was springing through the doorway. He wasn't carrying his guitar;

he had left it across the street. Instead, he was aiming a very sizable revolver.

The Jap saw it, but wasn't startled. Reaching across the counter, he took Nayre's arm and turned his dive into

Not only did Nayre somersault across the counter, to sprawl behind it; he left the revolver in the hand of the

It was all so sudden that Margo hadn't time to even shrink away. She was under the muzzle of the gun,

without a chance for life, should the Jap pull the trigger. Instead, he merely laid the gun behind the counter

"I am John Smith," he said in perfect English. "I presume, however, that you really wish to meet a friend of

Margo simply stood astonished, while the Japanese stepped to a door at the rear of the shop. He opened it and

spoke to someone in the darkness beyond. Still staring, Margo saw the storekeeper step aside, smiling, as he

Blackness took form. It became a cloaked shape that moved into the light. Burning eyes met Margo's amazed

COLIN NAYRE looked up. He reached for the bandanna handkerchief that should have been around his head

to conceal his lighthued hair. It was gone, and Nayre could feel a lump where his head had struck

Still somewhat dazed, he thought that he had been captured, his disguise penetrated. He thought the voices in

the dull light around him belonged to Castenago's men, until he heard a whispered laugh.

Staring at moving blackness, Nayre recognized The Shadow; then, as his swimming senses steadied, he saw

They'd taken Nayre into the back room of the shop, to revive him; but Nayre was really puzzled when he saw

a companion with them. The man was the very Japanese who had overthrown Nayre's attack!

He looked like a Japanese, but he was actually an American, for his family had lived in the United States

through four generations. His greatgrandfather had come to America nearly a hundred years ago, soon after

The family had changed their name to the English equivalent, and with each succeeding generation, one or

more members had studied international law, in order to assist American trade policies in the Orient.

John Smith was the current example, and he smiled, in broad American style, when The Shadow told Nayre

There bad been so much talk of Japanese military penetration under the guise of business, that Washington

officials had sent John Smith to the Caribbean to report what was really happening there.

He'd opened a Nipponese shop of his own, and lived in an apartment above it. He had the phone upstairs, and

No one, except The Shadow. He had known all about John Smith. So Margo took it for granted that The

Shadow had been staying here, as Cranston. She didn't recall the package that Allard had "sent back" to a

Actually, that package had contained The Shadow's hat and cloak, with a coded note to John Smith,

Of course, The Shadow didn't mention that point. Instead, he stated that John Smith had found any Japanese

menace entirely absent from Centralba. Nevertheless, he had stayed because of Luis Castenago. The dictator

was the sort who would sell out wholesale, if the bid came high enough; therefore, Centralba might at any

While that possibility remained John Smith would have to stay; which meant, in so many words, that he

"That will not be for long," declared The Shadow in a strange, prophetic whisper. "The rule of Castenago

The announcement brought amazed looks from all the listeners. The Shadow turned to Colin Nayre.

"I should have contacted you last night, when I first saw you outside the palace," said The Shadow. "I had

recognized you at Peridor's, and understood that you were there to protect the girl you love. I saw the gourd

come over the gate, and knew that only the marimba player could have thrown it. When it turned into a bomb,

The direct analysis brought an understanding nod from Nayre. He'd been wondering how The Shadow had

"You were outside the palace last night," continued The Shadow, "and the fact should have told me that

Mariquita and her father had been summoned there by Castenago. It happened, however, that I had dropped

all other matters for a decisive stroke at Castenago. I therefore credited you with the same idea.

"When Castenago trapped me, I remembered you, Nayre. I played into Castenago's hands to remove his

hidden threat: Murk Wessel and the crew of killers. When they were gone, it was my turn to produce the

"I was sure that Castenago would grant me the privilege of hearing marimba music before I died. Your gourd

BY this time, The Shadow's urge for a counterthrust at Castenago was inspiring the listeners, particularly

Nayre. However, intrepid though he was, Nayre shook his head. It was no longer safe for him to travel as a

Furthermore, The Shadow had made it plain that he wanted to trap Castenago and Wessel together, as

evidence of the dictator's double dealing. Such would require a policy of waiting; for a few days, at least.

"A few days will be too long," declared The Shadow. "It must be done tonight. I have learned something not

stated in any of Castenago's manifestoes. This evening, Castenago is giving a banquet in honor of Professor

The Shadow had to block off Nayre before he could reach the door. Frantic, Nayre's only thought was to

reach the palace and have it out with Castenago. Finally calming the excited man, The Shadow reached to a

Casually, he reviewed his own moves and those of Castenago, illustrating each by opening another inner egg.

"This is ours," he told Nayre. "The innermost of all the games involving life and death. The only one" The

Shadow's laugh was pointed "that cannot be cracked! We shall proceed with it at once! The first move is

"You must visit certain persons," explained The Shadow, "who had unfinished business with Luis Castenago.

We have played through every weakness, without success. This time, we shall do the utterly unexpected and

HALF an hour later, Nayre and some genuine mariachis were strolling through the unfinished gardens of the

From his window, Pierre Treban saw them and merely shrugged. They would soon give up hope of gathering

a crowd of musiclovers in the garden. People in the casino were too intrigued with the melody of the

Treban forgot certain persons quartered downstairs in the casino. Murk Wessel and his crew had no roulette

wheel, and they were sick of playing poker with chips that were based on a million dollar I O U. They

recognized a tune that was nothing but discord to the ears of Treban, who thought that all music began and

"Get a load of that!" exclaimed Murk to the others. "Those monkeys are banging out the 'Sidewalks of New

York'! Maybe some tourists taught it to them. Let's find out what else they know."

Poking from the hideout, Murk gave a low whistle that stopped the music. Murk beckoned, and a lone

mariachi approached, a bit doubtfully. Murk didn't see the figure that simultaneously emerged from a car

It was the cloaked shape of The Shadow. From the car, Margo Lane and John Smith watched the blackclad

Murk gestured the mariachi into the storeroom, indicating that he could bring in the other musicians. The

mariachi saw the light from the air chamber and strolled curiously toward it. Murk grinned, deciding to let the

Stopping on the threshold, the mariachi saw the other crooks around the card table, and turned questioningly

toward Murk, who told him to step inside. Murk followed, and slid the panel shut.

The musician's glance had shown him vague blackness entering the outer door. Looking about, he noticed the

panel move. A gun muzzle was coming through, indicating that The Shadow was reversing the trick of the

portrait frames. This was the signal for the mariachi to take the allimportant plunge.

He whipped off his bandanna headgear, revealing a shock of strawhued hair above his darktanned face.

"You chaps should remember me," he said in English. "I'm Colin Nayre! We met in Miami Beach."

With a loud growl, Murk Wessel gestured his pals back to their seats, and turned to the exmariachi.

"No gag," returned Nayre bluntly. "I just don't like to be doublecrossed, any more than you do."

Nayre gave Murk an almost contemptuous glance and turned to the others, as though seeking corroboration.

"There's only one doublecrosser in Centralba. He'd get by anywhere. He gave me the runaround, and now

"What else?" retorted Nayre. "I was the right man to handle it. The trouble was, I knew Castenago so well,

that I was waiting for the cash first. Finding that I wasn't a sucker, he called you fellows into it. I came back

here to square accounts with Castenago. Maybe I can get him to settle yours, too."

"Helping The Shadow! That's funny! All I've been doing is chucking bombs at The Shadow, figuring that if I

get rid of him, Castenago will pay up plenty! That's the way I was supposed to knock off Durez and his

"The trouble is, Castenago thinks I'll toss one his way, so he faked a story that I helped The Shadow escape.

Lightly, Nayre tapped his guitar, indicating that he had a bomb inside it. That touch convinced the crooks.

They believed the very logical yarn that The Shadow had devised for Nayre to tell them. Murk put a shrewd

"How about us working together, Nayre? Got any ideas about making Castenago come through with the

"That's what I came here for," Nayre answered. "I used to be the captain of the palace guard. I can get into the

place without Castenago knowing it. But I can't demand a showdown all alone. Castenago can summon aid

"With you chaps, it's the other way about. You have the numbers, but you can't reach Castenago. You had

your chance last night, but he bluffed you. If you helped him trap The Shadow, he certainly didn't pay you for

"No, he didn't," growled Murk. "He said he'd talk about that later, on any terms we wanted. We're waiting to

"You wouldn't by any chance be hearing from The Shadow, instead?" Nayre's query was artful. "Castenago

Nayre didn't have to finish. The mobsters were on their feet, demanding that Murk line up with Nayre.

"Slide outside, Nayre," he said. "Get rid of those mariachis. We'll be along, and you can show us the way."

AFTER he was sure that Nayre had gone outside, Murk turned to his crew. Shrewdly, Murk had guessed that

"It figures this way," stated Murk. "We're going to get ours double! We go to the palace with Nayre and put

the heat on Big Chin Face. We'll get our dough, and so will Nayre. But when Nayre lams along with us, we'll

"Don't worry about the getaway." Murk was waving his hands to silence questions. "Remember that

proclamation telling that flier, Allard, to get out of Centralba? If Castenago thinks Allard is The Shadow, it

fits right with what Nayre said. Castenago wants The Shadow to knock us off, and call it quits.

"The Shadow isn't going to find us here, because we'll be at the palace. Before he wises to what's happened,

we'll get to the airport and take that plane ourselves. All tuned up and gassed, that ship, just waiting for us to

take it. We can buy up a banana republic for ourselves, with our dough and Nayre's."

Murk Wessel was turning toward the sliding door. It had gone tight shut. Outside, a swiftgliding figure

reached the courtyard, where Nayre was waiting alone. Briefly, The Shadow told Nayre what he had

CASTENAGO'S palace was ablaze with light when Nayre and his new companions circled it. The dictator

had declared a special fiesta in honor of Francisco Peridor; but, as usual, there was a catch.

Citizens, stationed around the palace steps, had greeted Peridor's arrival rather coldly; then had turned

It would spread all through Libertad that Castenago was honored and Peridor disowned. Within a few days,

no one would be shocked to learn that Peridor had died. If he didn't accept the invitation to suicide,

Very easily, in Peridor's case. Probably, the system would be another bomb blast, that no one would ever

Meanwhile, Castenago, with Peridor seated at his right, was doing everything to honor his esteemed guest.

Having called for the best of wine, Castenago sampled the bottle that arrived. For the first time, his face

registered disapproval. He turned to the shaky servant who had brought the wine.

"This is not the best!" stormed Castenago. "Fool! Why didn't you bring what I ordered?"

"He would not let me." The servant's quivering tone was low. "He said that he must speak to you, alone. El

Castenago smiled at the reference to Colin Nayre. He excused himself from the table and stepped through a

curtained doorway, where he found two gatomontes. He told them to follow him, and on the way to the cellar,

As for The Shadow, he wouldn't even be about. Castenago had two reasons for his supposition. First, The

Shadow wouldn't have allowed so crude a summons from the wine cellar. Again, The Shadow was banking

It didn't occur to the dictator that Nayre might have arranged that latter point.

Pacing the wine cellar, Nayre was listening to a growl that came from behind a big cask set beneath shelves

of bottles. Murk Wessel was arguing that the scheme wouldn't work, and his companions, also hidden, were

Coolly, Nayre responded that it would. He reminded them that this cellar wasn't a trap, for they could go out

Castenago had neglected that means of entry to the palace, because it led only to the wine cellar, which was

always locked. He'd overlooked the fact that the rule didn't apply on banquet nights, when he sent a servant to

Still arguing that Castenago would come, Nayre suddenly motioned for silence. A door opened above a short

flight of steps and Castenago peered down into the dim cellar. He saw Nayre, costumed as a mariachi, except

Without looking around, Castenago gestured for his gatomontes to wait, pair by pair, in the passage behind

Promptly, Nayre produced a revolver and covered him. Castenago merely smiled. If Nayre assassinated him,

nothing could block the double death warrant that the dictator had already signed for Peridor and Mariquita.

He'd lull Nayre, Castenago would, and then summon the gatomontes to capture the fool. Castenago still

He lost that idea, when five men slid out from behind the wine casks. Murk Wessel, as commander of the

squad, used proper tactics. He dispatched two gunners to cover the door that Castenago had entered, and kept

"WE'VE come for the dough," declared Murk. "Nayre for his, the same as us. He told us how you ditched

Real understanding spread across Castenago's bigjawed face. He saw how Nayre had talked Murk into an

alliance, but he still mistakenly regarded the scheme as Nayre's own invention; not The Shadow's.

Farsighted enough to know that Murk would doublecross Nayre later, Castenago cagily pretended that he

"This way," he said. "I shall take you to my private vault. There, you shall both be paid in full."

Prodded by guns, Castenago started up the steps. His gatomontes hadn't shown themselves, for which he was

glad. He still wanted them to stay out of sight, so he spoke to his captors as he moved along. His words,

"No one will block the way, I assure you," declared Castenago. "Look for followers, if you wish, for you will

He was indicating that he wanted the gatomontes to trail from a distance, keeping strictly out of sight.

Turning into another passage, Castenago went down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, Murk told him to wait.

Deep in another section of the palace cellar, Castenago paused in front of a wall formed by great stone

blocks. He probed a crack so thin it was scarcely visible, and his fingernails found the hidden catch.

The wall opened; it was a great, irregular door that operated upon smooth, noiseless hinges, so perfectly

Below, an automatic light had turned on, revealing Castenago's treasure vault. Huge piles of American

currency lined the shelves; gold coins were present in dozens of high, glittering stacks. There was silver in

Murk's men did exactly what Castenago expected. They forgot their prisoner and plunged into the vault, to

Only Murk hesitated; then, seeing that Nayre was covering Castenago, Murk succumbed to the lure. He

"This vault needs guardians. Dead men are the best! Mere mention of their presence will frighten away the

Murk caught the meaning too late. He heard a clatter as he wheeled, accompanied by a wild gunshot.

Powerful as a bull, Castenago was hurling Nayre straight toward the vault door. If the strugglers merely

They were to be the dead men who would serve as guardians of Castenago's wealth!

Involuntarily, Castenago wheeled, and Nayre wrenched from his clutch. At the entry where the gatomontes

should have appeared, Castenago saw The Shadow, dominating the square cellar room outside the vault of

From that very vault, other men were lunging: Murk Wessel and his crew. Apparently, The Shadow

considered them more dangerous than Castenago, for he was driving toward them. The entry cleared,

Castenago darted toward it, howling for his gatomontes. He didn't stop to see what happened behind him.

Nayre had hurled himself upon The Shadow, taking the cloaked fighter from the flank. Bowled backward,

As he ran, the dictator heard The Shadow's laugh as well, trailing to an abrupt halt. The sudden finish meant

The laugh stopped as Nayre made a hard swing with his revolver. Blackness collapsed in Nayre's clutch. Half

crouched above The Shadow, Nayre turned and gestured with his gun, to hurry Murk's crowd after

"I've handled The Shadow!" voiced Nayre. "Leave it to me to fill him full of bullets! Get Castenago! Hurry,

The crooks started after Castenago, and it was well they did. Had they lingered, they'd have met with instant

death. Nayre's gun was actually covering them, and so were two others: The Shadow's.

He was motionless, but his hands were pointing up from the floor, each with a ready automatic. Nayre's gun

swing had stopped short of The Shadow's head; the blackcloaked fighter's sprawl was just another detail of

Giving Murk's band a short start, The Shadow and Nayre followed them. They could hear Castenago's shouts

far ahead, and the bang of futile gunfire supplied by Murk and the other pursuers. Along the route The

Earlier, The Shadow had silently disposed of Castenago's bodyguards, but he didn't specify whether he had

The trail suddenly became very hot, for it was leading to the place where Castenago expected sure refuge; the

Out of breath, the bulky dictator staggered into sight of the astonished guests, panting for guards to save him.

For the benefit of the guards about the banquet hall, Castenago turned and gestured toward the door, gasping

for the guards to hurry and block off his enemies. He hadn't finished the words before the enemies,

Murk and his men saw Castenago, and they also spied the guards, who were grabbing for rifles. Murk didn't

He fired straight for Castenago, and the other thugs copied the act. As swiftly as they had murdered Durez,

the quicktriggered assassins disposed of Castenago. They were turning away while the bulky dictator still

was swaying on his feet. A moment later, Castenago toppled, lifeless when he struck the floor.

The crooks were starting back to the treasure vault, hoping to rifle it and get away amid the confusion. From

the very passage that they needed came a challenging laugh, that they thought, at first, was ghostly: the laugh

AN automatic spoke. Its stab proved that The Shadow was alive. The shot felled one of Murk's gunners.

Backing The Shadow's fire came a report from Nayre's revolver, staggering another of Murk's men, who

Guards from the banquet hall saw The Shadow and started to aim his way, but he flourished an automatic

The guards didn't recognize the irony behind the order. They were Castenago's men, taught to rally at mere

mention of his name. People in Centralba switched factions so often that it wasn't surprising that even La

As The Shadow sped for the door where Murk and his henchmen had fled, Nayre accompanied him, and the

Outside the palace, Murk and his crew were fighting their way into a car. Murk saw The Shadow and pointed

him out to the guards who were giving the crooks trouble. Those guards wheeled, to aim for The Shadow,

who hooked Nayre's arm and carried him beyond a fountain before the rifle fire could begin.

Leaving the two groups of guards to explain things to each other, The Shadow took a path across a veranda,

John Smith was at the wheel, with Margo Lane beside him. The Shadow and Nayre sprang into the rear seat.

They didn't have to tell John where to take them. There was only one place where Murk and the assassins

The crooks reached their goal first. They drove their car right to Allard's plane, and sprang on board it

unhampered by anyone, for Castenago had ordered that the plane be allowed to go.

Seeing another car approaching, the airport guards rushed out to block it. As the car halted, Nayre poked his

"Our work is accomplished," spoke The Shadow. "We cannot attack the airport guards. They have made a

"But unless we get through," returned Nayre, "Murk and the other killers will escape!"

Lights tilted as the ship's nose lifted from the field. Another instant, and the plane was gone. Gone with a

A bomb, more powerful than a whole row of Nayre's marimba gourds, had blasted the plane and its

That one was the wounded man back at the palace. The Shadow had specially dropped him, knowing that

someone would be needed to testify, firsthand, regarding Murk's alliance with Castenago.

"I suspected something of the sort," he told his companions. "Castenago was too generous, offering Allard his

chance to leave the country. It was better that Wessel should have tried the plane, to see if another of

BACK at John Smith's shop, they separated. Margo went to the hotel, where Nayre met her later, no longer in

his native disguise. He was wearing evening clothes. He had called the palace and found that both he and

An exciting scene greeted them when they entered the banquet hall. Behind the main table stood Kent Allard,

The council had just held a meeting, and found a law which stated that the office reverted to its former

incumbent, since Centralba had no vicepresident. Luis Castenago had never deemed it expedient to provide

The toast finished, Margo was telling Allard about the plane disaster. His responding nod indicated that The

Shadow had warned him not to accept Castenago's invitation to depart. It was then that Margo noticed

"He should be happy," said Margo. "He's president again, and they've found the millions that Castenago stole

At Allard's words, Margo agreed. She saw the direction of Peridor's gaze, toward the two persons who were

They had hoped long for this reunion. They had obtained it thanks to The Shadow!