FINGERS OF DEATH.......................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. DYING WORDS ..............................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. OUT OF THE PAST ........................................................................................................6

CHAPTER III. ADAMS GIVES ADVICE .............................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. THE SHADOW'S METHOD .......................................................................................15

CHAPTER V. FINGERS AND A FACE ..............................................................................................19

CHAPTER VI. HARRY ACTS .............................................................................................................23

CHAPTER VII. THE MEETING ..........................................................................................................28

CHAPTER VIII. THE SHADOW MOVES..........................................................................................34

CHAPTER IX. THE FINGERS WORK...............................................................................................37

CHAPTER X. SAYBROOK HAS SUSPICIONS................................................................................41

CHAPTER XI. THE SHADOW WORKS............................................................................................45

CHAPTER XII. THE CONFERENCE ..................................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIII. HIDDEN FINGERS..................................................................................................53

CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW SPEAKS .........................................................................................56

CHAPTER XV. BOLD FINGERS ........................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVI. THE EMPTY ROOM ................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW ARRIVES.....................................................................................67

CHAPTER XVIII. THE CHAMBER OF DOOM .................................................................................69

CHAPTER XIX. THE PENALTY OF REMORSE..............................................................................73

CHAPTER XX. THE SIGN OF CRIME ...............................................................................................77

CHAPTER XXI. AT THE MONUMENT .............................................................................................80

CHAPTER XXII. FOES FROM THE CRYPT.....................................................................................83

CHAPTER XXIII. DEATH TO THE DEAD!......................................................................................87

A SPECTRAL gloom seemed to pervade the room where Josiah Bartram lay. Perhaps it was the silence that

caused the strange condition; perhaps it was the appearance of Bartram himself. Grace Bartram sensed the

Josiah Bartram was a man just past middle age; but his appearance tonight marked him as an old man. His

form was motionless beneath the coverlets of the bed. His face, with eyes staring straight upward, showed a

yellow hue against the whiteness of the pillows. His hands, too, were yellow, as they slowly twitched upon

Josiah Bartram was not alone in the room, but the old man seemed entirely unconscious of the presence of the

One of these persons was a whitegarbed nurse. The other was Mahinda, the old man's trusted Hindu servant.

The nurse was seated at a table, writing a report. The Hindu was standing stolidly beyond the foot of the bed.

Grace Bartram saw all three persons as she tiptoed into the room, but the only one to command her direct

attention was her uncle. The sight of that pathetic figure brought a look of anguish to the girl's face as she

JOSIAH BARTRAM seemed to detect his niece's approach. His eyelids closed and he spoke in a low, feeble

voice. His words were uttered in a dull monotone from lips that scarcely seemed to move.

"Grace Grace" there was an effort in the old man's speech "you will remember remember all that I

have told you. Remember that all my worldly goods belong to you that, when I die, there is to be no

Grace Bartram had reached a chair beside the bed. Her soft hands were grasping her uncle's scrawny fingers;

"You will be better, uncle," said the girl. "Doctor Shores will be here shortly. I telephoned to him after

As the girl's voice wavered, Josiah Bartram spoke again, in the same slow monotone.

"Do not forget Mahinda," he said. "Live here, Grace, and be happy. Mahinda will always be trustworthy. He

These words increased the girl's unhappiness. Bravely, Grace tried to overcome Josiah Bartram's belief that

he was about to die. The old man's hands ceased twitching. As he rested quietly, Grace heard the faint ringing

Grace was sure that the bell had announced the arrival of Doctor Felton Shores, the attending physician.

Motioning to the nurse to keep watch, the girl rose silently and left the room. She closed the door behind her,

On the steps, she saw that her surmise had been correct. Mahinda had just admitted Doctor Shores. The

physician was removing his hat and coat. Grace hastened down the stairs and approached the physician.

Doctor Felton Shores was recognized as the leading man of medicine in the city of Holmsford. For years, he

had been Josiah Bartram's physician. There was nothing surprising in that fact, for Doctor Shores was the

practitioner most favored by the wealthy members of the community; and Josiah Bartram, successful building

There was a quiet, assuring tone in the physician's manner that had always impressed Grace Bartram. She felt

sure, now, that this one man could be relied upon to offset her uncle's critical condition.

"Good evening, Grace," said Shores, in a placid voice. "Your message was waiting at my home when I

returned from a call. Did I understand that your uncle's condition appeared to be less encouraging?"

"Yes, doctor," she asserted. "He has relapsed into the same weakened state that he was in before. You

brought him out of it three days ago. I can only hope that you will succeed again. But "

The physician patted the girl's shoulder when he noted that Grace's voice was faltering. He did not appear to

"Your uncle's condition is serious," declared Shores, "but I can hardly regard it as critical. You must not be

worried, Grace. With plenty of rest and careful treatment, I believe that he will show a marked

"I had hoped so," responded the girl solemnly. "I had hoped so, doctor, until today. But when my uncle

Grace Bartram's eyes were moist as they looked toward the physician's sympathetic face. Doctor Shores,

adept in human understanding, could see that the girl's mind contained a burden.

Shores had known Grace since she was a child. He had seen her develop into beautiful young womanhood.

He saw worry in the girl's face. He watched her turn to see if Mahinda, the servant, was close at hand. Then,

he felt her pluck nervously at his sleeve and, at her bidding, the physician followed the girl into the gloomy,

THERE, away from any spot where they might be overheard, Grace engaged the doctor in serious

conversation. Her eyes no longer welled with restrained tears. She was bravely trying to explain her

"Uncle talked to me, this afternoon," declared the girl. "I was alone, beside him. He has a premonition that he

"That is not serious, Grace," responded Shores. "At the same time, it is sufficient to unnerve you "

"It is very serious, doctor," insisted Grace. "Uncle impressed it upon me. He made me promise to see that he

was buried without ceremony; to live here and retain Mahinda, who has been so faithful to him. More than

"Yes. Mr. Adams was here a few hours ago. Uncle repeated instructions to him. Mr. Adams has his will, and

is the executor of his estate. It is dreadful, Doctor Shores dreadful to see one whom you love preparing

"It is not unusual, Grace," interposed the physician quietly. "He will recover from that delusion. Is he resting

"An injection will help. He is nervous and needs sleep. His present condition may prove to be encouraging. It

is at least a sign of arousal from the lethargy which has persisted since he first took to bed."

The doctor's emphatic tone was comforting. As Shores turned toward the doorway, the girl followed him

from the gloomy room. They encountered Mahinda in the hallway. The Hindu bowed solemnly.

"I have told my master that you are here, sir," he said to Doctor Shores. "He says that he would like to see

The physician nodded and walked up the stairway, accompanied by Grace Bartram. The Hindu servant,

moving silently, followed them at a respectful distance. When they reached the door of Josiah Bartram's

bedroom, Shores entered first, and Grace followed. Mahinda remained in the doorway.

Josiah Bartram moved his eyes as Doctor Shores entered. The old man recognized the physician, and stared at

him with glassy eyes. Shores took the chair beside the bed, and felt the patient's pulse.

"I am going to die, Felton," announced Josiah Bartram, in a crackly monotone. "I have talked to my lawyer. I

"You will recover, Josiah," he said. "Your condition is improving right along. You are a young man yet. This

The physician beckoned to the nurse. The woman approached and assisted with the hypodermic. Josiah

Grace Bartram looked on. She could see the pockmarks of previous injections upon that pale, weak arm. This

treatment had been utilized at intervals during Josiah Bartram's confining illness.

"You will talk with Hurley Adams," continued the old man in his monotonous voice. "Talk with him, Felton.

See that all the details of my plans are carried through. I want a quiet burial, in my own mausoleum beyond

The voice faded away as Josiah Bartram rested more easily upon his pillows. His pale eyelids had closed.

Doctor Shores arose and gave instructions to the nurse. He turned to the door and gripped Grace's arm,

Mahinda stepped aside as the two made their exit. The Hindu closed the door. Josiah Bartram, resting

"No cause for worry," remarked the physician, as they reached the foot of the stairway. "I look for rapid

The ring of the doorbell interrupted the speech. Mahinda appeared upon the stairway in answer to the call.

Both Grace Bartram and Doctor Felton Shores watched as the servant opened the front door to admit a tall,

THE visitor was Hurley Adams, Josiah Bartram's attorney. He bowed to Grace Bartram, and nodded to

"His condition is serious," admitted Shores, "but I see no cause for immediate alarm."

"It worried me this afternoon," asserted Adams. "His constant thought of death his desire that I would

"That," said the physician seriously, "is an unfortunate point. Sometimes, the positive feeling of death does

"I'm bearing up," responded the girl. "Willard Saybrook will be here within a few days. It will be good to

"Your fiance is a fine young man," agreed Adams. "I am glad that Saybrook is coming."

He motioned toward the stairs as he turned to Shores, indicating that he would like to see the patient. The

physician nodded, and Adams ascended. He passed the nurse at the top of the stairway.

Three or four minutes elapsed before Adams reappeared. He tiptoed down the stairs and spoke to Shores and

"Resting quietly," said the lawyer, with a gentle smile. "I watched him as he slept, but did not disturb him."

While Adams spoke, the nurse came across the hall. She had been to the kitchen to obtain a pitcher of water.

She went up to the sick room. Adams, in the meantime, bowed good night. Mahinda opened the front door,

While Shores talked with Grace Bartram, Mahinda went in the direction of the kitchen. Thus the physician

The woman's call showed consternation. There was a moment of breathlessness; then Shores headed up the

stairs. Grace Bartram followed with all haste. They found the nurse at the door of the sick room. They saw

JOSIAH BARTRAM was sitting upright in bed. His eyes were gleaming in a wild, frenzied stare. His arms

were doubled across his chest. His fingers were gripping his throat, and he was gasping broken utterances.

"I am dying!" Bartram screamed hoarsely. "Dying dying as I said I would die! Grace! Remember!

Felton Shores was by the bed, gripping the old man's shoulders. Bartram's terrible gaze centered itself upon

Mahinda had appeared at the door; now, behind him, arrived the face of Hurley Adams. The old lawyer had

heard the nurse's cries from the street, and had rushed back into the house. Bartram's eyes, the optics of a

Dry lips parted in a hoarse chortle. The old man's expression was uncanny. He seemed to be visioning a

world beyond a new existence that the others could not see. Delirium caught him in a convulsive wave. His

next words were the vague, mad statements of thoughts that were known to him alone.

"I feel death!" was Josiah Bartram's cry. "Here at my throat! Death! Fingers of death! See? See? Fingers of

The old man's hands were clutching his own throat. A convulsive shudder racked Josiah Bartram's frame.

As Doctor Shores grasped the thin wrists, a long, weird gasp came from the old man's lips. Josiah Bartram's

hands dropped away. His body wavered and fell back upon the pillows. His head tilted crazily, and his eyes

Those in the room formed a strange, stunned tableau, as they viewed the form that had so suddenly become a

Hurley Adams was tense as his hand pressed Grace Bartram's arm. The girl's eyes were fixed in horror as

they viewed Josiah Bartram's face. The nurse was gripping the post at the foot of the bed. Mahinda, the

Even Doctor Felton Shores was transfixed by the strange suddenness of the old man's collapse. He held

Josiah Bartram's wrists in a cold, firm grasp. It was the startling drooping of those wrists that brought the

The first to regain his control, Doctor Shores leaned over the body in the bed and made a slow, deliberate

examination, while the others watched, unspeaking. Rising mechanically, the physician turned and looked

from one face to another. His eyes reflected the thought that was in every mind.

"Nothing can be done now," declared Doctor Shores, in a solemn tone. "Human aid is ended. Josiah Bartram

Grace Bartram repressed a sob. Hurley Adams tightened his lips. The nurse shuddered. Mahinda, by the

Something had been said that caused this tenseness. Not the statement of Doctor Shores indeed, the

physician's announcement had almost brought relief. The words that were in every mind were the words that

Those were the dying words that had come from crackling lips. Words that might have been brought by

AFFAIRS in the town of Holmsford were of little interest to New Yorkers; but the news of Josiah Bartram's

In a high office of the Badger Building, a chubbyfaced man was going over a stack of newspapers. Some of

these were New York dailies; but there were representative journals from other cities. Oddly enough, there

Having finished his perusal of the more important newspapers, the reader glanced through the others. The last

that he examined was the Holmsford daily. One of the first items that attracted his attention was the account

The chubbyfaced man carefully clipped the story. He folded it and placed it in an envelope, along with other

notices. His task finished, he sealed the envelope and arose from his desk. He passed through an outer office;

An odd practice! A man whose business was dealing in securities seemed to be handling a clipping bureau as

a side line. Moreover, his inspection of various newspapers, particularly those of smaller cities, was rather

Why did Rutledge Mann engage in this odd practice? The answer was a secret which the chubbyfaced

Rutledge Mann did not know. For a long while, now, he had been in the employ of this mysterious being, and

Rutledge Mann knew only that when he had been in financial straits a failure with no hope of the future

he had received a summons from The Shadow. A strange, weird being a blackcloaked shape, that bore the

semblance of a man had appeared in Mann's abode and had offered him opportunity.

WITH his promise to serve The Shadow, Mann had gained the monetary aid which he needed to reestablish

himself in business. Since then, he had been an investment broker on the surface actually, an important

cogwheel in the human mechanism which The Shadow required in his constant warring against crime and

It had become Mann's duty, while he posed as an investment broker, to look for printed statements regarding

current crime. In addition, the investment man conducted special investigations and served as contact man

At The Shadow's order, Mann had subscribed to certain small city newspapers among them the Holmsford

publication and had made it a practice to cut out all unusual local items. The reason, Mann believed, must

be that The Shadow knew of lurking crime in those communities and was awaiting any development that

After a taxi ride down Broadway, Rutledge Mann found an old building on Twentythird Street. He entered

The name "Jonas" was inscribed upon a cobwebbed black panel. Rutledge Mann dropped his envelope

The investment broker had never passed through that dingy door. So far as he knew, the office was vacant.

But Mann knew, for a fact, that messages dropped therein always reached the hands of The Shadow.

IT was late afternoon when Rutledge Mann had completed his errand to The Shadow's post office. It was

early evening when the aftermath occurred. This came in the form of a sharp click which sounded in the

A blue light cast a ghastly glow upon a polished table in a corner of a sablewalled apartment. Long white

hands appeared beneath the glare of the azuretinted globe. Strong but slender fingers opened an envelope.

A strange, iridescent gem glittered in the bluish light. With everchanging hues, the amazing stone gleamed

purple, maroon, and bloodred crimson from the third finger of the hand that wore it.

The Shadow's girasol a precious fire opal unmatched in all the world reflected the light, and splashed

A low laugh came from unseen lips, as the clipping from the Holmsford newspaper was lifted by the tapering

fingers. To The Shadow he who now dwelt in darkness but for his moving hands this item was one which

The hollow tones of whispered mockery indicated an unusual connection between sudden death in Holmsford

The hands disappeared. The light glowed upon a blank tabletop. At last, the hands reappeared, carrying a

yellowed envelope. From it slipped clippings records which bore dates of twenty years ago.

Hidden eyes pored over these accounts. Moving fingers brought forth record sheets which referred to those

yellowed clippings. Upon a blank sheet of paper, in a brilliant blue ink, the hand of The Shadow wrote the

The name faded away. Not a touch of the blue ink remained. That was a feature of the fluid with which The

Shadow wrote his thoughts. Its chemical formula caused it to vanish after it had dried and the air had made

The hand of The Shadow wrote again; it inscribed a brief and definite note in coded words. The fingers

folded the paper before the ink had time to disappear, and inserted the message in an envelope.

With another pen one provided with ordinary ink The Shadow addressed this packet to Rutledge Mann,

A message to Mann instructions to be forwarded to an agent. Should another open that letter, its writing

would disappear before he had time to study the code. But Mann could decipher the cryptic writing as easily

as he could read an ordinary message, for Mann was versed in that particular code.

The light clicked out. In the dread darkness of that mystic room a weird, sinister laugh broke forth.

It was a long, chilling burst of spectral mockery, a tone that rose and died away, only to be answered by

Something had occurred in Holmsford two decades ago some unsolved event which The Shadow, who

collected strange records for his archives, had alone divined as an affair which might have a later

To The Shadow, the death of so prominent an individual as Josiah Bartram signified a possible reawakening

Only The Shadow knew and the dying echoes of his laugh gave no answer to the problem. Taunting

This black abode this unknown spot which was The Shadow's sanctum was empty. The Shadow had

departed while the whispers of his mockery were still alive within the jetblack walls.

A BLACK patch flickered along the sidewalk of an uptown street. It reached the corner of Manhattan

Avenue. Without a revelation of the figure which cast it, this shadowy shape glided into a waiting cab.

A voice from the darkness spoke to the sleepy driver and gave him a destination. The man awoke, wondering

The Shadow was bound upon some mission. Thus did he move, a living phantom, whose very form was

shrouded by a cloud of blackness. Like a creature of the night he arrived and went his secret, mysterious way.

Unseen, unheard, unknown, he could strike and leave no sign of his unfailing hand.

The Shadow was in New York; but his eyes had turned to Holmsford. He had given orders; one of his agents

The ending of crime was The Shadow's penchant. He knew no restrictions in his endless battle against those

Fingers of death! Had they clutched at Josiah Bartram? Were they seeking new victims? Were they but a

Those were strange questions. As yet, they had not come to The Shadow's mind, for he had learned only of

Josiah Bartram's passing; not of the circumstances attendant to the deathbed scene.

But if such fingers did exist; if they were to be used for evil, they would find more than helpless victims in

Fingers of death, stretching forth to deliver doom, would be destined to meet The Shadow!

HURLEY ADAMS was seated alone in the inner office of his suite. With hands resting idly upon the

His keen eyes peered across the irregular buildings of the thriving city of Holmsford, toward the hillside

beyond, where the roof of a large mansion showed its toylike chimneys from amid clustered trees.

Hurley Adams was picturing the interior of that large homestead. Here, in broad daylight, his mind was

picturing the scene of a few nights ago. The lawyer was visualizing the death of Josiah Bartram.

The old contractor was dead and buried. His remains now lay within the walls of the mausoleum on the

hillside. Josiah Bartram had died as he had lived planning for the future. Hurley Adams, now the executor

In this work, Adams had been aided by both Grace Bartram and Doctor Felton Shores; also, in a measure, by

Mahinda, the old man's servant. The Hindu, ever faithful to his master, had been a willing helper in the

No one had been admitted to the mansion. The death of the wealthiest man in town had been an important

story for the newspapers, and Hurley Adams had given forth the details. Grace Bartram had talked with the

few friends who had expressed condolences. Doctor Shores had attended to the funeral arrangements.

All this had been in accordance with the instructions given by Bartram to Adams before his death. Josiah

Bartram had always hated ceremony. There had been none of it after his passing. Adams and the others had

seen to that. Yet the lawyer, despite the fact that all had been followed to the letter, felt a keen sense of worry.

His thoughts were constantly reverting to the night when Josiah Bartram had died; and through his brain kept

NO one had mentioned the words after they had been uttered. Nevertheless, Hurley Adams knew that they

The words held a mystic significance for Hurley Adams. The lawyer was wondering, now, what they had

Felton Shores had been Josiah Bartram's physician. Grace Bartram was the old man's niece. Mahinda had

Hurley Adams felt that he knew more regarding Josiah Bartram's past than any of the others. Was he correct

in this assumption? That question was perplexing, and a source of worry to Hurley Adams.

Certain persons, Hurley Adams believed, might have felt the strange shivers that he had experienced when he

had heard Josiah Bartram's maddened death cry. But neither Doctor Shores, Grace Bartram, nor Mahinda

were among the few whom Hurley Adams had in mind. Hence, vague speculation was a dominating matter in

Reveries came to an end as a secretary entered the lawyer's office. Adams, turning with an unrepressed

shudder, received the announcement that Willard Saybrook was in the reception room. He told the secretary

A few minutes later, Adams arose to greet a wellattired, frankfaced young man who entered the door.

"Last night," was the reply. "I would have been here sooner, had I heard of Josiah Bartram's death.

Unfortunately, I was traveling, and the news reached me later than it should have."

A short silence followed; then Adams asked a question pertaining to Saybrook's visit.

"I suppose," smiled the lawyer, "that as Grace Bartram's fiance, you naturally thought it well to call upon the

"No," responded Saybrook, "I had no such idea in mind. I merely dropped in to see you because you were a

"I knew him well," admitted the lawyer. "His death was a great blow to me, Saybrook. I was present when he

"I was not present when Josiah Bartram died," he said. "Nor was I present at the funeral. I have talked with

Grace who was there at both events. That is why I thought it well to talk with you."

"With you," said Saybrook calmly, "and later, with Doctor Shores. I thought that perhaps one of you might

A SLIGHT frown crept over the face of Hurley Adams. The lawyer saw a challenging light in Saybrook's

"So I understand," returned Saybrook, "and the funeral was held immediately afterward because "

"Because Josiah Bartram's instructions were to avoid all ceremony and unnecessary procedure."

"Grace seems worried," explained Saybrook mildly. "Not about the funeral and all that, but about the

suddenness of her uncle's death. So I, to be different, began to worry about the funeral.

"I just wondered a bit if Josiah Bartram actually made the plans, or if they were suggested to him by some

"The plans were his own," declared Adams. "He made them several years ago, when he completed his

"A strange idea," mused Saybrook. "A man builds an ornate mausoleum a token of pride in showiness after

"That is easily explained," vouchsafed Adams. "If you had really known Josiah Bartram, you would have

"Josiah Bartram was a peculiar man. He made a fortune here in Holmsford; yet he always detested the town.

A few years before he retired from the contracting business, he became open in his criticism of this city, and

later began to ridicule the community. That, quite naturally, made him unpopular.

"I recall when Bartram planned his mausoleum. I think his original intention was to be showy to have a fine

"He talked about putting the mausoleum in the center of the cemetery; and people began to find fault with

him for spending so much money on such an edifice. They thought it would be better if he put the funds into

"I am coming to that," declared Adams. "Bartram became involved in a controversy. He said that the most

imposing monument in town was the Spanish War monument at the entrance to the cemetery. That had been

"His critics answered that the war monument was sufficient. So Bartram countered by erecting his

mausoleum on his own property, instead of in the cemetery. He declared that Holmsford was a dead town;

therefore, when he would be dead, he would prefer to be in Holmsford than in any other place.

"He added to that remark by stating that the citizens of Holmsford were so unenterprising that the only public

events of consequence were funeral processions. So he intended to disappoint all those who might be

anticipating his death by having no procession at all. He announced that those who lived in Holmsford could

look at his mausoleum after he was in it; but that he would deny them the pleasure of attending his funeral or

"That sounds typical of the old man," admitted Saybrook, with a dry smile. "He did not like to make friends. I

"That explains the subject under discussion," concluded Hurley Adams. "Josiah Bartram's death was

unexpected; but his interment, under the direction of Doctor Felton Shores, was quite in keeping with his own

"Let's go back to the death, then," suggested Saybrook, in a significant tone. "You must admit that it was

"In the manner of his dying. In the words that Josiah Bartram uttered just before he fell back upon the

A SUDDEN nervousness came over Hurley Adams. The grayhaired lawyer began to clench and unclench

his fists in unwitting action. He suddenly noted that Willard Saybrook was glancing at his moving hands.

"Fingers of death!" said Saybrook softly. "Fingers of death! Can you explain those words, Mr. Adams?"

"Yes," he said, "Grace Bartram told me her uncle's dying words. They have preyed upon her mind. She did

not mention the fact to you or to Doctor Shores. She expected that one or the other of you might bring up the

"I heard the words," admitted Adams. "They puzzled me, and then worried me. To be frank, Saybrook, I have

"I believe that they are significant," declared Saybrook, rising from his chair. "Those words lead me to one

assumption, and I have come here to state it. I believe that Josiah Bartram was murdered!"

A look of consternation appeared upon the lawyer's countenance. It quickly turned to a shrewd, reserved

expression. Hurley Adams, the moment that his surprise was ended, became a man of cautious, restraining

"I'm going to get to the bottom of it," asserted Saybrook. "There'll be no halfway measures about this,

Adams. I'm going to break things loose. If necessary, I'll demand that the body of Josiah Bartram be exhumed

Hurley Adams was upon his feet. Stepping forward, he clutched Willard Saybrook by the arm. There was a

dynamic force in the old lawyer's expression. He suddenly gained a dominating control over Willard

Whatever might have been troubling Adams, it was clear that he could no longer deal with Saybrook in a

lulling manner. Hence the lawyer became direct in method and his new tactics swayed the man before him.

"Saybrook" Adams spoke in a tense, effective tone "you are merely voicing a thought which I have held;

yet which I have mentioned to no one. I tried to belittle the situation a few minutes ago, merely because I

wanted to see how strongly you had been impressed by what Grace Bartram had told you.

"Like yourself, I believe that Josiah Bartram may have died an unnatural death. But it was my duty to follow

his instructions. The burial was actually in accordance with his plans. Nevertheless, there is nothing to be

"Let us find out the truth," agreed Adams, "but not by the method you suggest. It would be a mistake to

exhume the body. It would cause so tremendous a sensation that the murderer if there is one would have

time to make his escape. No, Saybrook, precipitous action could accomplish nothing. It is far better to wait."

"No. Watch while we wait. See if we can divine the murderer's purpose. You have made a great mistake

"By mentioning your suspicions to me. I am glad, now, that you have done so; but they must go no farther.

"I suspect no one. I merely know that we may be encountering a great mystery here. Thoughts unvoiced are

THERE was logic in the old lawyer's advice. Since Adams had made the frank admission that he, too,

believed that Josiah Bartram might have been murdered, Saybrook was ready to listen to reason. Adams had

"I'll try to follow your advice," agreed Saybrook. "But at the same time, Adams, I cannot see the wisdom of

undergoing long suspense. If Josiah Bartram was killed, it is our duty to go the limit to uncover the murderer.

If his death was natural, we are foolish to be governed by such maddening thoughts."

"Saybrook" Adams was speaking in a fatherly tone "I am as anxious as you; indeed, more anxious, to

"I was Josiah Bartram's legal adviser. I know the problems which confronted him. If murder is involved, we

"There is only one possible cause for which Josiah Bartram might have been murdered. I can tell you with

assurance that if murder is involved, the criminal will most certainly follow with further actions that will be

obvious to me. If new events do not occur, I shall be positive that Josiah Bartram was not murdered.

"Why not wait and be prepared? I have been watching. I am willing to wait. Avoid precipitous steps. That is

"If you are worried about Grace, I can assure you that I see no possible danger to her. Yet, foolish action on

your part might turn a new menace in your direction and therefore bring danger to Grace also."

Willard Saybrook arose. These last words settled his policy. He held out his hand to Hurley Adams, and the

"I'm keeping mum," announced Saybrook. "For the present, anyway. You've got the right idea. I'll see you

When Saybrook had left the office, Hurley Adams breathed a long gasp of relief. Seated at his desk, the

lawyer thrummed the glass surface with his fingers as he stared thoughtfully through the window.

Fingers of death! Saybrook, too, had seen significance in those dying words. Saybrook would keep silence,

But why did the old lawyer seek such secrecy? His words, his actions, had indicated a subtle, personal reason

The answer lay in the lawyer's brain along with the fantastic words that a dead man had cried forth before

his passing. The face of Hurley Adams was tinged with worry; but it was also colored with determination. It

Time alone would tell what Hurley Adams knew about the strange death of Josiah Bartram!

AFTER leaving the law offices of Hurley Adams, Willard Saybrook went directly to his own office, in a

building a few blocks away. There, he plopped into a desk chair and began to review the unusual discussion

that he had held with Hurley Adams. His thoughts caused him to reflect upon his own limited knowledge of

Willard Saybrook had come to Holmsford a few years ago as the district representative of a large tile

manufacturer. He had met Josiah Bartram through that connection; for the old contractor, despite his

retirement, had still maintained occasional building interests. Saybrook had first seen Grace Bartram at her

When in Holmsford, Saybrook usually stopped at a hotel. His district was very large, and required much

traveling. Holmsford was merely his base of operations. News of Josiah Bartram's death had reached him

Upon his return to town, Saybrook, as he had mentioned to Hurley Adams, had taken up his residence at the

Despite his direct method in talking with Hurley Adams, Willard Saybrook was not an overaggressive type of

man. He realized fully that it was not his province to interfere in the settlement of Josiah Bartram's estate.

He had no reason to suspect that Hurley Adams might be shady in procedure. The lawyer had been a lifelong

friend of Josiah Bartram, and the old contractor had been too shrewd a business man to have intrusted his

Saybrook's visit had been to arouse Adams to his senses; and his talk with the lawyer had given the young

man new confidence, despite the fact that his apprehensions had been increased by statements which Hurley

Recalling the lawyer's advice, Saybrook realized that it would be unwise to go further with this matter for the

present. Saybrook would have relished a discussion with Doctor Felton Shores; nevertheless, he thought it

best to do as Hurley Adams had suggested: to wait and see if any overtures might come from Shores himself.

Murder! Fingers of death! These were harrowing thoughts. They were perplexing to Willard Saybrook, for

they were a far cry from the young man's usual field of action. Willard Saybrook was a business man, not a

crime investigator. At the same time, he possessed a keen intellect, and he was not willing to be idle in the

Since Grace Bartram had told him of her fears, last night, Saybrook had been methodically active. Upon his

desk lay various newspapers, all containing accounts of Josiah Bartram's death. Saybrook had scanned these

thoroughly, going through the lengthy accounts of Bartram's past career. He realized that all the stories were

One fact, however, impressed Saybrook. The simplicity of the funeral arrangements, followed by the

interment in a magnificent and costly mausoleum, had made good news copy. Pictures of the Bartram

mansion; of the mausoleum; of the crowd that had gathered outside the grounds these were spread through

Furthermore, they had been sent by photo services to larger cities. Saybrook had obtained copies of New

York dailies, and in them he found duplicates of certain photographs that had appeared in Holmsford.

NEWS, Saybrook sagely decided, appeared to be a matter of popular interest. In a larger city, Josiah

Bartram's death and burial would have attracted scant attention. But the man's unique position in Holmsford,

the curiosity of the populace, and similar factors, had caused public excitement, and even the Manhattan

The wave of news had died immediately, however. These journals were a few days old. No later editions had

However, a latent interest had been created. Thousands of people had read of Josiah Bartram. If the dead

What a bombshell it would be to demand an exhumation of the body! All these news photographs would be

in immediate demand. Holmsford would come into conspicuous notice, far more than before.

That very factor now impressed Willard Saybrook with the wisdom of the advice which he had received from

Hurley Adams. It was best that Josiah Bartram should remain quietly dead and buried. No scandal could

If murder direct or indirect should be a sound theory, it would be preferable to await for new

developments. Hurley Adams had convinced Willard Saybrook that time would either justify or disprove

Saybrook was still considering the newspapers on his desk, when a stenographer entered the office to inform

him that a gentleman was calling to see him. Saybrook received the card that the girl gave him. It bore this

Willard Saybrook had never heard of the visitor; nevertheless, he immediately associated Harry Vincent with

A few minutes later, Willard Saybrook was shaking hands with an affable, frankfaced young man of about

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Vincent," stated Saybrook. "It's not often that I have a visitor from New York.

Particularly one who is engaged in building enterprises. As a matter of fact, construction is very slow in

Saybrook was looking at the calling card as he spoke. Harry Vincent smiled slightly. That card had done

Despite the statement which it bore, it had not come with Harry Vincent from New York City. The card had

been printed in Holmsford, yesterday afternoon, after Harry Vincent had learned the business in which

"I know that building is slow in Holmsford," affirmed Harry Vincent. "That, in a sense, accounts for my

"My business is rather an unusual one," explained the visitor. "It also enables me to be quite independent. I

am in contact with certain large firms that are interested in erecting branches in various localities. I visit

different places, size up the building possibilities, and submit complete plans to those concerns. When I find a

"I see," responded Saybrook, with a smile. "Therefore, a town in which building interests need work is more

"You have stated the situation exactly," said Harry Vincent. "So far, I have done practically nothing here in

Holmsford; in fact, I expect to go on to other territory. But while I am here, I am making it a point to become

acquainted with representatives of businesses that figure in the building trade.

"I have never had previous negotiations with your concern, but I know the company by reputation; and as you

appear to dominate this territory, any orders that I might be able to place would naturally come through you."

It was evident that this first meeting would produce no immediate business, so Saybrook wisely turned the

However, during his agreeable conversation with Harry Vincent, Saybrook noticed his visitor glancing at the

pile of newspapers on the desk. This caused Saybrook's mind to revert to the allimportant topic of Josiah

Harry glanced over the pile. He picked out a copy of the New York Classic. Saybrook smiled. He took the

newspaper and turned to the page that showed a photograph of Josiah Bartram's mausoleum.

Harry Vincent studied the photograph; then nodded. As he read the caption beneath it, Harry's face took on a

"Why, it's here in Holmsford!" he exclaimed. "I did not notice that before. Josiah Bartram yes I heard his

name mentioned somewhere. He used to be a contractor here, didn't he? I heard some one say that he had

"Within the past week," said Saybrook quietly. "He is dead and forgotten even by the Holmsford

newspapers of the past few days. His death, however, was a severe blow to me. Josiah Bartram was the uncle

Harry Vincent heard the statement with sympathetic surprise. Willard Saybrook tossed the newspaper aside.

"I just mentioned it," he said brusquely, "because I wondered how much of a stir is actually created by a short

In the conversation that followed, Harry Vincent learned that Willard Saybrook was living at the dead

contractor's home. Saybrook, in turn, discovered that Vincent was stopping at the Elite Hotel; that he would

be in and out of Holmsford during the next few weeks. Both men were cordial, and a real acquaintanceship

Owing to Saybrook's present circumstances, it was scarcely possible to make arrangements for another

meeting outside of office hours; but Saybrook extended a future invitation for Harry Vincent to call at the

THAT evening, following dinner in the gloomy old Bartram dining room, where Mahinda silently stalked

about the table, serving food, Willard Saybrook mentioned to Grace Bartram that he had made a very

To himself, Saybrook extended congratulations upon the manner in which he had discussed, with Vincent,

the matter of Josiah Bartram's death, without the slightest mention of any apprehensions concerning the cause

At precisely the same time, Harry Vincent, in his room at the Elite Hotel, was congratulating himself upon

his tactful visit to Willard Saybrook's office. For Harry Vincent, too, had veiled his thoughts.

His pretended guise of construction representative had been assumed purely to form contact with Willard

Saybrook. In reality, Harry Vincent was engaged upon another mission. He was the agent of a strange

personage known as The Shadow; and tonight he had just completed and dispatched a full report of his

For some reason, The Shadow was interested in the demise of Josiah Bartram. Why? Harry Vincent did not

know. As an agent of The Shadow, it was his duty to follow instructions to the letter, and to leave The

Even to Harry Vincent, long his trusted agent, The Shadow was a being of mystery. One night long ago

The Shadow had stepped from the swirling mist of a fogblanketed night to draw Harry back from a

maddened attempt at selfdestruction. Since then, Harry had served The Shadow faithfully; but never had he

Time after time, The Shadow had appeared at crucial moments to rescue Harry Vincent and others from what

seemed certain death; but always, The Shadow disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived.

Tonight, Harry had sent The Shadow a report, written in code, inscribed in special ink, which would

disappear after it had been read. That note, however, had not been sent directly to The Shadow. It had gone to

Rutledge Mann, an investment broker, who served as contact man between The Shadow and his agents. Mann

By tomorrow night, somewhere in New York, The Shadow would be perusing Harry Vincent's report. From

it, he would learn the details that Harry had uncovered regarding the career of the late Josiah Bartram.

Meager details they were. In his report, Harry had named Hurley Adams as Bartram's lawyer; Felton Shores

as his physician; and Willard Saybrook as the fiance of the old contractor's niece.

He had also added one other name to the list that of Maurice Pettigrew, a Holmsford architect, who had

Yet Harry, accustomed in The Shadow's service to size up the men he met, was convinced that he had scored

an important point by picking Willard Saybrook as the one person with whom an acquaintanceship would be

most logical. Saybrook's actions in the office had made Harry sure that the young man was still thinking

These theories were in Harry Vincent's brain tonight. For Harry knew that The Shadow, strange phantom of

darkness, was a lone wolf who battled sinister crime. When Harry, as The Shadow's agent, had been sent

upon a mission, it was only to seek for signs of crime and to serve as The Shadow might require.

Once crime threatened, The Shadow's purpose was to thwart it; then stalk it to its evil lair!

HARRY VINCENT had visited Willard Saybrook on one afternoon. On the evening of the next day, he

It was nearly midnight when The Shadow's agent returned to the Elite Hotel. He wrote a brief report of his

barren trip, and decided that there was nothing else to do until the morrow. Then, perhaps, it would be wise to

Harry had driven by two houses: one the home of Adams, the other the residence of Pettigrew. Both places

In this surmise he had been correct. But had he made a midnight visit to the home of Maurice Pettigrew, he

would have seen the glow of newly lighted lamps. For, at midnight, Maurice Pettigrew arrived at his house

Maurice Pettigrew was not alone. He came in with a party of persons who had brought him home in their car.

At the architect's suggestion, these people came into the house to indulge in liquid refreshments. Dim lights

that glimmered from a room with drawn shades indicated the location of Pettigrew's study.

This room was Pettigrew's pride. It was on the second floor of the house, and the visitors admired it as they

entered. The room was adorned with many curios. Its walls were lined with artistic bookcases. Thick

draperies hung in the corners. The place was furnished with heavy chairs and couches.

Maurice Pettigrew, an elderly dilettante, let a twisted smile wreathe his dry features as he noted the

admiration displayed by his friends. There were half a dozen in the group, and the men as well as the women

With a sophisticated grin, Maurice Pettigrew opened an ornate cabinet at the side of the room, and brought

forth a bottle and set of glasses. He poured cordials for his visitors, and, as his friends sipped their drinks, the

"We understand life more when we grow old," he declared. "We appreciate its values; we realize its

shortcomings. We are capable of deciding when life is no longer useful. Then, if we are wise, we take steps to

"I?" Pettigrew's tone was scornful. "My life is like this glass. Nice to look at enjoyable when it's full

worthless when empty capable of long existence if carefully watched but ready when the moment comes

The old architect let the glass fall from his hand. It struck the slab of a marbletopped table, and shattered to

REGRETFUL murmurs came from Pettigrew's friends as they realized that the beautiful crystal object had

"What is a glass?" queried the architect. "What is a life? Particularly one's own? I broke the glass because I

had that inclination. I would end my life just as willingly if the desire seized me."

"However," said Pettigrew, "I have no such intention at present. I have not yet reached the stage of senility

which my old friend, Josiah Bartram, entered. Death was the best out for him. Pity was that he didn't

"Bartram was ailing for quite a while before he took to his bed," some one remarked. "He couldn't have

"He was a friend of yours, was he not?" questioned another person, speaking to Maurice Pettigrew.

The architect's face was gaining a worried expression. Pettigrew seemed to regret that he had brought up the

name of Josiah Bartram. Evidently it brought unpleasant thoughts. However, the architect did his best to

"Bartram was a friend of mine" Pettigrew was filling another glass for himself "until he thought he was

too selfsufficient. That was his fault. He never paid for anything without wishing that he could have done

"I designed buildings for him. He kept notations of my plans, and thus gained knowledge of my style of

architecture. When he built that old rambling house, he planned it himself. Same way with other buildings.

Even his mausoleum. Look at it" Pettigrew was snorting his contempt "and see what a hopeless mixture

"Bartram had only one good point. He belittled the intelligence of the people in this town. He called them a

crowd of gawks. He was right, and the best proof of it was the hullabaloo they raised about that marvelous

mausoleum of his. They wanted Josiah Bartram to erect a public edifice of his own planning. What a laugh! I

Pettigrew's outburst had given him a temporary elation that gradually began to subside. His visitors had

smiled at his remarks. They had finished their drinks, and they were leaving. Pettigrew gulped down his

cordial, and accompanied them to the ground floor. After they had left, the architect returned to his study.

A moroseness had come over the man's countenance. It had been noticed by his departing guests; it was more

The architect poured himself a third drink, and replaced the bottle in its cabinet. Seating himself in a corner

chair, Pettigrew placed the filled glass on a table beside him, and stared vacantly across the room.

MINUTES moved by, and Pettigrew's lips began to move. The man, engrossed in worrying thought, was

talking half aloud upon the theme which he had so lightly mentioned while others had been in this room.

"Josiah Bartram" Pettigrew's voice was an audible whisper "Josiah Bartram dead. He is dead. Dead. I

Pettigrew was voicing the extraordinary thought that had occurred to both Hurley Adams and Willard

Saybrook. But of those two, Adams had seen Bartram die, and Saybrook had heard about his death from

Why did Maurice Pettigrew, who had not seen Josiah Bartram for months before his death, have the same

thought? The architect's trembling lips gave no answer; they merely indicated repressed worry in the brain

Pettigrew's hand sought the glass. His lips sipped the cordial, and he set the halffilled tumbler upon the

table. Pettigrew's eyes, staring listlessly at the opposite wall, became fixed as they rested upon a photograph

It was a picture of a Holmsford bank one of the buildings which Pettigrew had planned many years before.

Small and now almost antiquated, it had been a great thing then and even as Pettigrew viewed it, he felt

But there was something in the man's gaze that showed a hidden interest in that photograph. Pettigrew's lips

With eyes transfixed in hypnotic stare, Maurice Pettigrew was totally oblivious to closer surroundings. He

did not sense the rustle of the heavy velvet curtain that hung in the nearest corner, scarcely more than four

The room, with its dim lights, was a setting for tragedy, and in the midst of the unbroken silence, a weird

manifestation took place. The uncertain motion of the drapery ceased. From its purple folds a dim object

Most conspicuous were the fingers. Firm, steady, and cautious, they clutched a tiny vial that contained a

palegreen liquid. They were threatening fingers, those sharpnailed digits that Maurice Pettigrew did not

The fingers reached their goal the decorated glass that held Pettigrew's halffinished cordial. Guided by

eyes that must have been peering from the folds of the curtain, the fingers dipped and let the palegreen

Then, with the same caution, the hand began to withdraw with the empty vial. It stopped suddenly as

Pettigrew's arm came toward the curtain. The architect, thinking of his cordial, was reaching for the glass.

As Pettigrew found the tumbler, the hand that had emptied the vial remained in view, but motionless. To

withdraw, it would have to move the curtain. Its best course was to remain where it now rested.

Pettigrew, glass in hand, was staring at the cordial. The architect's eyes seemed to note the slight change in

color. The inspection ended abruptly. Pettigrew raised the glass to his mouth and drank.

The hand upon the table was moving away. Maurice Pettigrew, licking his lips to test some unexpected

flavor, began to frown in a puzzled manner. With an impatient gesture, the architect turned toward the table

STILL clutching the vial, the hand was moving toward the curtain. A sharp cry came from Pettigrew a

hoarse, maddened cry that showed both doubt and understanding. Knocking the empty glass away, Pettigrew

made a grab for the hand. The fingers, clear of the table, loosened and let the vial fall to the thick rug.

Half on his feet, Pettigrew plunged across the table and tried to seize the curtain. His voice tried to become a

The architect lost all thought of his objective. He was clawing at his own throat, insane from a burning pain.

Dropping back in his chair, he writhed and turned in agony, but his eyes still stared at the curtain where the

As the architect's eyes grew glassy, the curtain parted, and Maurice Pettigrew saw a man come into view. He

In one brief moment, Maurice Pettigrew had seen the face of an intended murderer. A few seconds later, he

saw that face no longer. For Maurice Pettigrew's eyes saw nothing. The man who stood before the chair was a

Maurice Pettigrew was dead. Poison from the vial had joined the cordial in the glass. Fingers of death had

The face behind those fingers was one that Maurice Pettigrew knew; but the architect would never reveal its

IT was the next afternoon when Harry Vincent learned of the death of Maurice Pettigrew. The news created a

sensation in Holmsford. It burst forth in the single evening newspaper, and was shouted out by the newsboys

Entering the Elite Hotel, Harry heard the call. That morning, Harry had begun a cautious investigation of

Hurley Adams; now his thoughts turned instantly to Maurice Pettigrew. Scanning the front page of the

journal, Harry absorbed the details that told the reading public of the finding of Pettigrew's body.

The police had worked swiftly so rapidly, in fact, that the newspaper was filled with a complete report.

Maurice Pettigrew had last been seen alive at midnight, when he had returned home with some friends. These

people, who had left in a group, had been interviewed. They agreed that Pettigrew had seemed eccentric, if

A woman had come to clean the house just before noon. She had a key, and when she entered she had found

The case looked like suicide. Julius Selwick, retired business man and newly appointed safety director of

Death was due to poison, the safety director had declared. This poison, contained in a small vial, had been

In a medicine chest, police had discovered other vials with the same poison. The inference seemed obvious.

Maurice Pettigrew, after his conversation with his friends, had chosen this form of suicide.

Harry Vincent was thoughtful. He could see no connection between this death and that of Josiah Bartram,

except that the two men Bartram and Pettigrew had once been associated. Nevertheless, Harry had been

expecting the unexpected. His long service with The Shadow had trained him to observe such coincidences as

Suicide was the newspaper intimation. The evidence pointed strongly in that direction. All of Pettigrew's

visitors were sure that the architect had been alone. The front door had been found latched as Pettigrew had

A murderer none was even suggested could hardly have done such a deed. Furthermore, the items of

Harry Vincent, himself, could hardly see murder in the case. It was another thought that dominated him that

To Harry, that question was all important. Through it, he could see a connection between the deaths of

WITH this thought, Harry acted on a hunch. He recalled that Willard Saybrook had shown an intensive

interest in the death of Josiah Bartram. In fact, Saybrook had brought up that subject of his own volition.

Acting on his hunch, Harry headed toward Saybrook's office. He reached the place within ten minutes, and as

he entered the building, he felt confident that he was on a good trail. Saybrook, by this time, might also have

When he reached Saybrook's outer office, Harry found it empty. The door to the inner office was ajar; and

"No call from Mr. Adams?" It was obvious from Saybrook's tone that he had just come in. "Hmmm. I

should have heard from him by now. I called his office while I was out at lunch. I left word for him to call

here as soon as he came in. All right. Call his office if you do not hear from him within half an hour."

The stenographer came out and saw Harry. She went back into Saybrook's office to announce the visitor.

Harry was ushered in, and Saybrook made him welcome. The tile man immediately began to discuss building

Harry played in with the policy. He noted that the newspapers of two days ago had been cleared from

Saybrook's desk, but that a copy of the Holmsford evening paper was at hand. From this, Harry knew that

There was worriment in Saybrook's face, and Harry felt that he had come here on a good hunch.

Nevertheless, he did not want to bring up the matter of the architect's death unless Saybrook commenced it.

The situation was approaching a dilemma until a break occurred which worked in Harry's favor.

The telephone rang on Saybrook's desk. The young man eagerly seized the receiver, and Harry observed the

gleam of excitement that appeared on his face. It was evident that Saybrook recognized the voice at the other

"Yes... Yes..." Saybrook was momentarily unrestrained. "Yes, Mr. Adams. I called your office... I wanted to

ask you about" Saybrook paused, and his eyes shot toward Harry "er the matter which we were

discussing the other day. Do you think that er anything has occurred that might have a bearing on it?"

Harry could see Saybrook blink nervously. The receiver was clicking harshly as a voice came over the wire;

"Yes" Saybrook was talking again "I er I cannot discuss matters at present, but it struck me very

forcibly that there might be some connection... Yes, I think that I should see you... Tomorrow, at your

office... No?... Oh, I understand... Yes... Yes. At your home early tomorrow evening... Yes, I'll be there."

When Saybrook hung up the receiver, Harry Vincent, apparently unconcerned about the disjointed

conversation, had picked up the evening newspaper, and was glancing idly at the front page. As Saybrook

Saybrook took the newspaper with feigned indifference. His effort to appear composed seemed obvious to

"Maurice Pettigrew?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I noted that he had died. He was a fairly prominent architect here in

This attempt to treat the architect's death lightly was, to Harry Vincent, full proof that Willard Saybrook was

concerned about Pettigrew's supposed suicide. Corroborating Harry's opinion, Saybrook nervously made a

further tactical error by trying to explain his telephone conversation in an indifferent manner.

"I was just talking to Hurley Adams," he said. "He's the lawyer who handles Josiah Bartram's estate. Lots of

details in such matters. Women don't understand them. Grace has been asking me to talk with Adams. He's

"By Jove!" Saybrook slapped the newspaper as though a thought had struck him. "I wouldn't be at all

surprised if old Adams had been counselor for Maurice Pettigrew. He talked as though he had been very busy

"Well, lawyers have a great business when they get older. That's when their clients begin to die and leave

THE subject changed, and Harry Vincent soon found an opportunity to leave Willard Saybrook's office. The

Shadow's agent congratulated himself as he went back toward his hotel. Harry was sure that Saybrook wanted

That was a mystery; but it made Harry's course obvious. The Shadow must be notified at once.

Harry could sense a purpose in Saybrook's remarks after the telephone conversation. Anxious to talk with

Adams, Saybrook had spoken quickly. He had feared afterward that he had given Harry some inkling to

connect Adams and Pettigrew. Without a doubt, the lawyer was attorney for the dead architect. Saybrook,

Tomorrow night! There would be a meeting then between Hurley Adams and Willard Saybrook. It was

Between now and tomorrow night, Harry must be both cautious and watchful. An idle cruise in his coupe

would enable him to keep tabs on the Bartram home to make sure that Willard Saybrook remained there

That was the real problem. It was beyond Harry Vincent's handling. Here as an advance investigator, it was

Harry's duty to report the first mysterious developments. In his room at the Elite Hotel, Harry worded a

This telegram would reach Mann before he left his office. Its meaning was important. It meant that something

serious had occurred in Holmsford; that the crucial time would be the next evening. This message, Harry

HARRY VINCENT was right. Shortly before five o'clock, a telegraph messenger entered Rutledge Mann's

suite of offices, in the Badger Building, near Times Square. He gave the telegram to the stenographer, who

Rutledge Mann, a solemn, chubbyfaced individual, opened the telegram and read it in methodical fashion.

Burbank was The Shadow's hidden operative. Stationed at a certain spot, he received telephone messages at

any hour, both from The Shadow and The Shadow's agents. Burbank changed his location frequently.

Mann read the telegram over the phone. A click sounded at the other end. Twenty minutes later, Mann,

waiting expectantly, heard the telephone bell ring. It was Burbank, calling back.

The quietvoiced man gave Rutledge Mann the wording for a telegram to send to Harry Vincent. The

investment broker wrote out the message. He transferred it to a telegraph blank and called the stenographer.

While Harry Vincent was dining in the Elite Hotel, a bell boy entered, carrying a telegram. Harry opened the

Harry Vincent thrust the telegram into his pocket. Finishing his meal, he went out to the street and entered his

coupe. He drove in the direction of the Bartram mansion, and cruised past the place. Parking in an obscure

His objective was a lighted window on the first floor. Peering from an angle, Harry caught a glimpse of

Willard Saybrook, seated in a chair in the living room. That was all that Harry needed to know. He was sure

that Saybrook was not abroad tonight. A later check would be necessary; but in the meantime, Harry had

Driving back to the hotel, Harry went to his room and wrote out a complete report of the data which he had

gathered during the day. He inscribed this in code, using his special ink. He folded the message and placed it

in an envelope, which he placed upon a sheet of paper in the writingtable drawer.

Again Harry went out and drove slowly through the streets of Holmsford. Parking near the Bartram house, he

His new observation was as successful as the first. Saybrook was seated in the same chair. He was talking to

some one, and as Harry watched, he caught a glimpse of a girl passing across the room. This was evidently

Harry returned to his car, and began another slow cruise, keeping always in the neighborhood of the mansion

Shortly before eleven o'clock, the lights were extinguished. Fifteen minutes later, Harry, parked down the

Before he could start the motor, Harry heard a thrumming sound. Peering from the window of the coupe, he

saw the lights of an airplane moving above. Evidently the ship was descending toward the Holmsford airport.

IN driving back to the hotel, Harry took a circuitous route to pass the houses of both Hurley Adams and dead

When he drove his car into the garage, Harry began to think again of the descending plane. It was not unusual

for a ship to land at Holmsford at night. But this plane, to Harry, had a peculiar significance. Holmsford was

Could The Shadow have come from New York? Harry thought it likely. If such were the case, The Shadow

might be at the Elite Hotel now. Harry conjectured on the possibility as he walked through the lobby.

Reaching the floor where his room was located, Harry walked down the corridor and made a sharp turn that

brought him to his room. With key in hand, he stopped pointblank before the closed door.

In a twinkling, Harry had seen something which caught his attention. He was positive that he had detected a

slight motion of the doorknob, as though some one had turned it from the inside. Was his imagination

Harry hesitated. To his mind came instructions which had been given him before he left New York for

A telegram such as he had received tonight carried one definite meaning. It signified that Harry should

deposit his report in the drawer of the writing table in his hotel room, instead of forwarding it to New York.

If The Shadow, himself, had planned to come for that report, he might be in Harry's room at this very

Knowing the secretive methods of his mysterious employer, Harry was reluctant to surprise The Shadow at

work. Nevertheless, there was a possibility that some one else might have entered the room. Fearing this

To all appearances, the room was empty. It was a large, oldfashioned room, and the single light left many

obscure spots and corners as Harry glanced about him. Harry was now convinced that his imagination had

been at work. To make sure that all was well, he opened the table drawer and saw that his envelope still lay

With a slight laugh at his own imaginative wanderings, Harry walked across the room and lighted a cigarette.

He stared for a few moments through the window, and went back to the writing desk.

A tiny click attracted his attention: Harry swung quickly toward the door. The knob was turning again but

THERE was something in the motion of the knob that brought a quick thought to Harry's mind. It seemed as

though the person beyond the barrier must have turned it with the deliberate intention of arousing Harry. It

Momentarily alarmed, Harry sprang to the door and opened it. There was no one in the corridor. Peering past

Back in his room, Harry closed the door and nervously puffed his cigarette. His mind reverted to the

In amazement, Harry lifted the piece of paper that he had been instructed to put beneath the envelope. As the

Indelibly impressed upon the white paper was a grayish blotch that formed a strange silhouette. It made the

profile of a man with features obscured by a projecting hat brim and an upturned cloak collar. As Harry

He had entered the room as Harry had first supposed. The opening of the door, when Harry had come in,

had caused The Shadow to glide out of sight, in some obscure portion of the room. Unseen eyes had watched

Harry as he walked about the room. The Shadow had known that Harry had seen the turning knob.

Mysterious always, The Shadow had not appeared, even to his trusted agent. He had seen Harry look to see

that the envelope was safe. As Harry's eyes had turned in another direction, The Shadow, moving silently and

He had left that strange mark upon the paper; he had gone noiselessly from the room; he had finally clicked

Thus had The Shadow, unseen, gained the information that Harry Vincent had left for him, and made it plain

From now on, Harry knew, his work would be that of a subordinate. There would be orders that he must

Tomorrow night! The meeting between Willard Saybrook and Hurley Adams! The Shadow knew about it

THE house in which Hurley Adams lived was not a large one. It was a secluded building, attractive, and

surrounded by a large lawn. A street lamp caused long shadows from trees and shrubbery. Willard Saybrook,

when he came up the walk to keep his evening appointment with the lawyer, noted those wavering shapes.

Saybrook was admitted to the house by a solemnfaced attendant. Adams was a widower, and lived alone,

with one manservant in the place. Evidently Adams had given instructions to admit Saybrook immediately

Thoughts of shadows on the lawn were no longer in Saybrook's mind. But the flickering splotches remained

all but one. As soon as the young man had entered the house, that shape detached itself from the others. It

When it reached the wall of the house, the long patch of blackness transformed itself into a living being.

There, close beside the wall, stood the spectral figure of a being garbed in black. The folds of the cloak

obscured the body. The brim of a dark slouch hat hid the features. Only two sharp eyes were visible

burning, brilliant optics that peered vividly through the night. Then the eyes no longer glowed. The form

A silent, creeping specter, The Shadow made his way foot by foot toward a lighted window on the third floor.

Invisible, blackgloved hands gripped projecting stones and bits of masonry. Twisted vines of ivy aided in

The Shadow reached his objective. His right hand, using a thin metal jimmy, silently loosened the catch on

the window. The sash went up, without the slightest noise. The hand slowly urged the shade by inches. Sharp

The thirdfloor room was a miniature library. Its walls held shelves from floor to ceiling. These shelves were

ponderously arranged with heavy, buckrambound legal volumes. A desk in the corner, a table, and three

The window through which The Shadow peered was one of three. The other two, at each end of the room,

HURLEY ADAMS, a serious look on his dignified face, was seated at the desk. The old lawyer's white locks

were scarcely more pallid than his complexion. Indeed, Adams had all the appearance of a man harassed by

Willard Saybrook, standing in the center of the room, showed no signs of similar condition, but he was

The apparent contrast between the two showed clearly that Adams was harboring some great problem, while

Saybrook was annoyed because of his inability to understand certain matters that filled his mind.

These were the first words that came to The Shadow's ears. They were uttered by Hurley Adams, and the old

man appeared a trifle relieved when Willard Saybrook took a chair and planted himself across the table. The

faces of both men showed plainly to the silent observer at the window. The Shadow could see every change

Saybrook was waiting for Adams to speak. The old lawyer cleared his throat; then settled back in his chair,

and acted as though at a loss for something to say. Saybrook showed signs of impatience. At last, he opened

"Adams," he said, "I have reached a decision on this matter namely, the death of Josiah Bartram. I took

your advice and said nothing, despite the fact that Doctor Shores has called at the house on several occasions.

I was holding back, waiting only for something to occur. I feel that it has occurred now."

"Exactly. The architect was once associated with Josiah Bartram. Ordinarily I would see no connection

between the two. But with so strange a case of suicide following an unusual death, I come only to one

"I plan to take up the matter with Safety Director Selwick. He has accepted Pettigrew's death as suicide, and

the coroner has supported that statement. Selwick knows nothing about the circumstances of Josiah Bartram's

Hurley Adams raised his hands protestingly at Saybrook's words. A frightened expression showed in the

older man's gaze. Willard Saybrook's proposed action filled him with apprehension. The young man stared

curiously at his host; then, with a gesture of impatience, Saybrook started to rise.

Pleadingly, Adams motioned him to remain. The lawyer's worried look turned to a tense shrewdness.

Saybrook wondered at the change; and as Adams began to speak, the words caused Saybrook to become

"SAYBROOK" Adams had gained command over his emotions "I am going to tell you why you must

preserve silence. I am going to reveal a secret that I have kept for twenty years a secret which should never

"Others have held the secret inviolate. It is only to preserve it that I am willing to divulge it to you only

because you, alone, have suspected foul play where others have made no comment."

Willard Saybrook was seated now. He sensed from the old man's tone that Adams had a great burden on his

mind. Within a few minutes, Saybrook felt that he would know something of the mystery that had surrounded

"First" Adams was stern "you must promise to reveal this secret to no one. You must also be willing to

assume the risk that lies over those who have possessed it. It is only my fear that you might resort to hasty

Hurley Adams caught the sincerity of the young man's tone. He studied Saybrook momentarily; then settled

"Twenty years ago or more" Adams was reflective "a group of men in Holmsford planned a crime of

tremendous proportions. Doubtless you have heard of it. The crime was the appropriation of millions from

A look of amazement swept over Willard Saybrook's features. He had heard of that event; he, like most

others in Holmsford, knew the details. But they did not jibe with the statement made by Hurley Adams. As a

"You say a group of citizens!" he exclaimed. "I understood that there was but one, and that he succeeded,

even though he never reaped the harvest. Malcolm Warthrop, president of the Holmsford City Bank "

Hurley Adams smiled wanly and raised his hand for silence. Willard Saybrook subsided, knowing that he was

"Malcolm Warthrop," stated Adams, "was the chief conspirator. Through his position as president of the

bank, he arranged a theft of millions when the bank funds were transferred from the old building to the new.

He did it cleverly, Saybrook, and he did it with the aid of one man: Stokes Bartlett, his secretary.

"But Warthrop and Bartlett did not attempt to remove the cash from Holmsford. They had charge of the

transfer, and through some ingenious method they managed to carry the funds to a suitable hiding place

"It was Warthrop's plan to leave Holmsford for a vacation. Bartlett was to go with him. The pair would never

"What about the money?" questioned Saybrook incredulously. "How were they going to get it?"

"I am coming to that," said Adams, in a tense tone. "That is the very point that involves the other

"Malcolm Warthrop had two problems: first, the gaining of sufficient wealth to make flight to a foreign land

"The only time to perform his crime was at the date set for the transfer. Accordingly, he conspired with

certain men in Holmsford to arrange for large loans or appropriations, so that the cash would be available.

This made it natural for the bank to have a tremendous supply of money on hand. That settled the first

problem. Warthrop used the same men to settle the second question. They were to unearth the wealth after his

Willard Saybrook nodded. This was amazing news to him. He had known that the City Bank had been rifled

of great wealth; but he had never understood that there had been an organized method of bringing the money

"WASN'T Warthrop afraid of a double cross?" Saybrook questioned. "Leaving the money in Holmsford after

"Not a bit of it," responded Adams, slowly shaking his head. "The other men were reputable citizens, who

intended to remain in Holmsford. Warthrop, unless he received his portion, could easily have broken the

conspirators. It was a marvelous scheme but it failed. You know why, of course, now that I have given you

"That's it. Bartlett also. Just before they were ready for their departure, a few days after the transfer of the

money, State banking examiners paid an unexpected visit. They entered the vaults with the cashier. They

found leaden disks stored away in place of gold coins. They discovered sheaves of blank paper topped with

"Warthrop was at home, and the examiners were quick enough to suspect him. They went to his house,

accompanied by police. They surprised Warthrop and Bartlett on the point of leaving the city.

"The result is a matter of local history. Warthrop and Bartlett were armed. They resisted invasion. They

fought off the police, and also set fire to all the papers in Warthrop's home. They nearly escaped; but Bartlett,

"And the money?" Saybrook fairly gasped the words. "It was left here in Holmsford? I know that it was never

"It is still in Holmsford," said Adams solemnly. "But the other conspirators have no record of where it is

"He intended to tell them," explained Adams slowly, "and in order to do so subtly, he chose a most unusual

method. When the cornerstone of the new bank building was laid, Warthrop placed within it a historical

record of the city of Holmsford. Only two men saw that historical sketch Warthrop and Bartlett. Its fourth

"Yes. He also kept a copy of the record which he intended to send to one of the conspirators after he had fled.

But the copy was evidently destroyed along with the papers that Warthrop and Bartlett burned."

"You mean, then" Saybrook was stammering in his amazement "that there is only one record of the

"The record," interposed Adams quietly, "is in the cornerstone of the City Bank Building, which was already

completed at the time of the robbery. Until that building is torn down, and the contents of its cornerstone

"They have not," said Adams firmly. "They were afraid. Remember: they were instrumental in causing the

bank to have large sums on hand. That fact was never suspected. The longer the conspirators waited to collect

their shares, the better. Particularly as they would surely be able to divide the portion allotted to Warthrop

"The time is coming then!" exclaimed Saybrook. "It is nearly here! The present bank building is inadequate.

"Saybrook," he said seriously, "certain men held a common secret which would enable them to some day

share and share alike, immune from suspicion because of the passage of years. Those men agreed among

themselves long after Malcolm Warthrop's death that when the great day came, the living alone would

"Each man harbored the secret; and now that the time is almost here, some one among them has evolved a

fiendish scheme. That one man or perhaps an outsider who has learned the secret has planned to eliminate

all others, so that he can appropriate the entire wealth when the cornerstone is opened. He alone will then be

"Josiah Bartram! Maurice Pettigrew!" Saybrook gasped the names. "They were two of the conspirators! And

A LONG pause followed. The silence of the room became tense. The old lawyer broke it with a serious,

"Saybrook" Adams shook his head as he spoke "I entered that conspiracy by request. As a lawyer, as the

only one who did not actually arrange for money to be in Holmsford, I was useful as an arbitrator.

"Long have I regretted my connection with the plot. It has hung as a menace above my head, as the sword of

"Years ago, I resolved that when the spoils were divided, I would not claim my share. But when Josiah

Bartram died, and I feared that his death had been by foul means, I resolved to claim my portion, and to turn

"Money which Josiah Bartram would have accepted," argued Adams. "That fact must not be forgotten."

Willard Saybrook understood. He could see honesty in Hurley Adams; at the same time, he realized that the

Why should other thieves share at the expense of one? That seemed to be the decision of Hurley Adams.

"My mind is not at rest," stated the old lawyer. "I knew that I would have to tell Grace Bartram the facts

about her uncle; but when Josiah died, I resolved to wait until the money had been gained. You see my

position, Saybrook. I am bound to these men. To condemn them, is to condemn myself.

"But after Josiah Bartram's death even before you first spoke to me about it I feared that Josiah had been

murdered. One of the conspirators, I believe, has turned fiend. Yet I waited, hoping that I was wrong.

"I must not name them," said Adams. "To watch them or to warn them is my work alone. I cannot involve

any other person. I have spoken to you because you are Grace Bartram's fiance, and I cannot speak to her at

present. In fact, it might be best that she should never know. Now, Saybrook, you understand why I

"Who do you think killed Bartram?" demanded Saybrook. "Who killed Bartram and also Pettigrew?"

"I do not know," returned the lawyer. "I have been unable to point to any one of the conspirators. There is one

whom I believe is innocent. I am almost ready to warn him. Perhaps I shall do so tonight.

"It may be that an outside murderer is at work or that a conspirator is employing an agent. Those are

factors, but I feel sure that some traitor of the group is responsible. However "

Hurley Adams paused and looked steadily at Willard Saybrook. He saw that he had made no mistake in

taking the young man into his confidence. He had gained Saybrook's entire trust. Adams decided to make his

"You did not see Maurice Pettigrew's body," he declared. "I did. It was lying on the floor. The hands,

Saybrook, were pressed to the dead man's throat. It reminded me of Josiah Bartram when he died. I wondered

Adams nodded slowly, and repeated the fateful words in a tone that was low and barely audible:

A LONG silence followed after Hurley Adams had spoken those fateful words. Both the old man and his

visitor sat motionless as though repressed by a pallor of gloom. Willard Saybrook's head was bowed in

thought. Hurley Adams, though unmoving, was studying the young man with keen, halfclosed eyes that

What was the meaning of that gaze? Did Hurley Adams regret that he had told so much? Was he considering

other secret facts that he had not mentioned? Was he wondering whether or not to reveal the identities of the

The lawyer's look was cryptic; it seemed to take on a scheming air. It revealed the trait of the old man's nature

Gradually, the look faded; the eyelids opened, and Hurley Adams was benign. The old man sensed that his

secret would go no further; that by this long declaration he had fully gained Willard Saybrook's confidence.

A slight smile came on the wan lips as Hurley Adams settled back into his chair. Conceivably, Saybrook had

become a menace to the lawyer, now that he knew the secret. Yet Hurley Adams, shrewd and perceptive,

realized that by his display of frankness he had gained much. Saybrook would now rely upon him; the young

man was no longer a doubtful and dangerous factor in the lawyer's secret affairs.

"Remember," warned Adams, in a quiet tone, "you must keep silence! I, like others, am in danger. Say

nothing, no matter what occurs. Fingers of death may work again; we cannot help it if they do."

Saybrook nodded and arose from his chair. He extended his arm across the desk and shook hands solemnly

"I'm going back to the house," he declared. "I'll stay close to home for a while. I don't think that Grace is in

"More than that," added Saybrook, "the first crime took place there. Perhaps I can find a clew. I am going to

try" his voice was determined "and see what I can discover. I'm glad you told me everything, Adams. I'm

The unseen eyes of The Shadow were still peering beneath the blind when Adams and Saybrook arose. The

lawyer went to the head of the stairs and called his servant to show Willard Saybrook from the house. While

his visitor's footsteps were still tapping down the stairs, Adams came quickly back into his thirdfloor library.

THE old man was nervous now. His face twisted in a doubtful smile. He stood before the window, pondering;

There was excitement in his action as he thumbed the pages until he found the one he wanted. His long, thin

forefinger ran down a column and stopped at a name. With finger firmly pressed, Adams looked at the

telephone upon the desk; then tossed the book aside and reached for the instrument.

Was Hurley Adams considering his plan of calling some one of the conspirators, in an effort toward a

The question, however, was not answered, even though it seemed fairly obvious. Adams did not pick up the

receiver. He shook his head doubtfully; then walked to the door and called his servant.

The man appeared less than a minute later. Hurley Adams spoke to him by name, and gave instructions.

"Unger," he said, "I am going out. Be very careful of the house while I am gone. Admit no intruders. See that

Unger smiled. The man perhaps forty years of age was an exsoldier. He tapped the side pocket of his

coat, and Hurley Adams understood. Unger, when in the house, was armed. That had been in accordance with

When Unger had gone downstairs, Hurley Adams went to the desk and removed a revolver from the drawer.

He put the gun into his pocket; paced the floor for a few moments; then left the room.

As the lawyer's footfalls echoed from below, the window blind rippled silently. The black crown of a soft hat

came into view. It was followed by caped shoulders. A few moments later, The Shadow stood within the

The blackclad entrant picked up the discarded telephone book. With keen exactness, he opened it almost to

the spot where Hurley Adams had turned. Keen eyes beneath the hat brim caught the tiny marks that the

lawyer's thumb had made upon the pages. A few moments afterward, The Shadow's gloved forefinger was

There, pressed into the rough paper, was the mark of a finger nail. Inadvertently, Hurley Adams had indicated

the name which he had sought. The Shadow's eyes noted the name Arthur Preston and also the address.

Was Preston the conspirator whom Adams had stated that he might warn? Had the old man decided to visit

The Shadow's soft laugh indicated that The Shadow knew. Adams had named no living man tonight; but

The Shadow had learned the identity of a person of whom the lawyer had been thinking!

The telephone book made a slight thud as it fell to the floor in exactly the same manner as Adams had

dropped it. With that slight sound, The Shadow detected another noise that had not quite reached his ears

before he dropped the book. Footsteps were coming up the stairs. The Shadow listened. The footsteps ceased;

Some one was coming to this room; and that person had heard the fall of the telephone book. The Shadow's

keen eyes scanned the place. The window, across the room, meant that he must encounter the path of the

open door. Instead of turning in that direction, the blackclad personage swept toward the nearer of the end

There, the figure of The Shadow merged with gloom. Nothing remained but a projecting splotch of blackness

upon the floor. That spot was motionless when Unger entered, carrying a revolver in his hand.

The attendant had evidently decided to inspect the thirdfloor room as Hurley Adams had suggested. Coming

up the stairs, he had caught the sound of the dropping book. He was here to investigate.

Stare as the man did, in all directions, he saw no sign of a living person. His eyes spotted the telephone book,

and Unger grinned. Probably it had fallen from the table, merely by accident. The attendant turned to leave;

He chose the alcove where The Shadow had gone! By freakish chance, he headed directly to the spot where

the splotch of darkness lay upon the floor. Unger did not see The Shadow, but it was inevitable that he should

Once again, chance played a strange part. Unger, satisfied with his inspecting glances, sensed no danger. Idly,

he flipped the gun in his hand, about to put the weapon in his pocket. It nearly slipped from his fingers, and,

as he caught the revolver, Unger's gaze lowered. He found himself staring directly into a pair of blazing

THE man acted quickly. His revolver was in his hand. It required but a fraction of a second for his finger to

grip the trigger. Unger, however, did not act with the swiftness of The Shadow. Before he could fire, the

lawyer's servant felt a quick grasp upon his arm. A figure of blackness shot forward from the gloom and fell

Instinctively, Unger wrested away from The Shadow's spring. The man freed his body, but he could not pull

his wrist clear from the grasp that had caught it. A tall, wiry form was overpowering him, and with the roar of

The revolver fell from the man's grasp, as he fought against this phantom shape that had taken on human

form. Together, he and The Shadow twisted across the floor, Unger battling with a fury. He was a strong

man; and he had gained an equal beginning in the conflict, for The Shadow had, of necessity, sought his wrist

In the grapple, Unger suddenly felt his opponent yield. With a savage twist, he forced The Shadow

That effort was his undoing. The black shape suddenly ceased to yield. Strong arms came upward. They took

a firm hold upon the exsoldier's body, and in a trice, Unger was turning in a mammoth cartwheel as his body

The flight ended in a crash against the wall. Unger crumpled and lay still. The Shadow, a soft murmur of

He saw that Unger was only momentarily stunned. That had been The Shadow's intention. This conflict had

been forced upon him. He had no quarrel with the lawyer's servant. There was other work to do and this

Sweeping across the room, The Shadow gained the door. There was no sound of footsteps as he descended

When Unger sat up a few minutes later, and rubbed his forehead, the whole fray seemed like a hazy dream.

He wondered what had happened in this room. He could only remember two blazing eyes; then a struggle

Angrily, Unger leaped for his revolver, and began a thorough search of the room. He was cautious and

complete. He seemed puzzled to find that there was no one there. He did not realize that he had lain stunned

In fact, Unger, in that peculiar condition that follows a period of unconsciousness, felt all recollection

slipping. Imagination could not have thrown him against the wall; yet he could now remember nothing of

The man felt piqued and foolish. He realized that he had been bested completely in a swift struggle that had

brought no credit to himself. Unger did not know that he had delayed The Shadow on a mission of

ARTHUR PRESTON, prosperous Holmsford merchant, waved a greeting as he passed the door of his living

room. His daughters were entertaining friends, and Preston, after this brief acknowledgment of the visitors

His destination was his curio room at the front of the third floor, a spot where he spent most of his leisure

hours. For Arthur Preston was a great collector, and social life had become a bore when compared to the

The curio room was an isolated spot in the oddly shaped house. Wedged beneath the sloping front roof, it

formed a sort of gallery which was provided with a row of electric lights. The only windows were two tiny

affairs, one at each end of the long room, but a pair of skylights, set in the level portion of the ceiling,

Storerooms occupied the nearest portions of the third floor. The servants' quarters were in the wing at the rear

of the house. Hence, Preston walked through a silent, deserted hall as he approached the place of his choice.

The door of the curio room was unlocked, for Preston had been in and out all evening. Except when he was

home, he kept the place closed, for it was easy of access. Side stairways in the old building made it possible

for people to come up here at any time. So Preston used bars to guard the room, but never bothered with them

The merchant emitted a satisfied grunt when he came into the curio room. He had been classifying a

collection of firearms, and weapons of various sorts were lying on a long table. These formed a contrast to the

Preston even possessed two suits of armor that stood like sentinels on either side of the doorway. These were

light, and arranged in sections so that they could be lifted and moved without difficulty. The table upon

which Preston was working with his collection stood directly beside one suit of mail.

Chancing to glance back along the hall through which he had come, Preston noticed that a door to one

storeroom was ajar. That was unusual. He had not noticed it when he went downstairs.

Preston went out into the hall and entered the storeroom. He turned on a light, and found the place vacant. He

examined the catch on the door, and noted that it did not work perfectly. That would have to be adjusted, he

There was no blind on the storeroom window, and Preston's figure was plainly outlined as he walked about

the room. Although the merchant did not realize it, eyes were peering upward from the lawn below. They

were sharp, keen eyes, masked in a shroud of darkness. Their owner had arrived but a moment before.

Preston extinguished the light, and went from the storeroom. At the same time, a hidden figure on the ground

below began the task of scaling the wall of the house. This was a task that required care, although it was not

Arthur Preston was about to receive a secret visit from The Shadow. It would have been quite easy for the

master of the night to have come up through the interior of the house, had he known its arrangement. Any

person who had visited the Preston home could shortly have familiarized itself with its devious side halls and

stairways. Another visitor, therefore, would have chosen such a course; but to The Shadow, walls were as

accessible as stairs; and with the party in progress on the ground floor, the wall was preferable.

BACK in the curio room, Arthur Preston began his examination of the weapons which he was classifying.

One, in particular, pleased the collector. It was a huge, oldfashioned pistol, with bulging trigger unhampered

Preston had fired the weapon several times in the past, and had been surprised at its power and accuracy.

Tonight it lay at the right of the table, already listed, with the guns that Preston had pushed over toward the

Ammunition, in the form of cartridges, bullets, and supplies of powder, was also present. In a sense, Preston's

curio room was an arsenal. The longer that the merchant had continued with his hobby, the more painstaking

In his present inspection of antique firearms, Preston was thoroughly engrossed in his work. The party in

progress on the ground floor was as completely out of his consciousness as was the figure of The Shadow

But another event was taking place much closer by; and Arthur Preston had no cognizance of it. The visor of

the helmet on the suit of armor beside the table was turning slowly and noiselessly. Eyes from within were

The right arm of the statuelike figure moved. The hand swung slowly toward the table. That hand was a

flexible gauntlet a portion of the armor itself. The fingers moved. They grasped the heavy, oldfashioned

A modern revolver would have been difficult for them to handle. This old firearm offered no trouble. The

hand, swinging upward, pointed the pistol directly toward the form of Arthur Preston. The forefinger,

separating itself from the rest, found the trigger, and paused there. Preston, as he now sat, was in no position

A low chuckle came from the helmet atop the armor. Preston did not hear it. The chuckle was repeated

louder with a hollow, metallic tone. This time Preston noticed the sound. He looked up to find himself

The man within the armor had calculated well. He knew that whatever action Preston might take would put

the merchant at a disadvantage. Preston responded naturally. He slowly began to raise his hands. A moment

Then, acting upon new and more virile inspiration, Preston leaped forward to seize the mailed fist that held

The pistol responded with a burst of flame. Pointblank into Preston's body went the heavy bullet. The

merchant, in his leap, crashed against the suit of armor and nearly toppled it; then, with a groan, he sank to

As Preston, almost helpless from the wound, stared upward, he saw the mailclad hands rise and remove the

helmet. With glassy eyes peering through gathering darkness, Preston recognized the face and cried out

Portions of armor clanked upon the table. Within a few seconds, the assailant had stepped forth. Preston's

fading eyes could see his back as he deliberately replaced the portions of the armor.

The man had calculated well. Arthur Preston had closed the door of the curio room. The sound of the shot

had not been heard below. With a dry chuckle, the murderous fiend gained the door and opened it with those

same fingers that had worn the knightly gauntlet. He knew that his victim was dying. He did not choose to

AS the door opened, Arthur Preston, half rising from the floor, gained a convulsive return of life. His eyes,

half blinded with the veil of death, could see the enemy escaping. Preston's voice came back. His strength

returned. Drawing himself half to his feet, he made a wild grasp for his assailant and at the same time; uttered

The man turned. Again, Preston cried with all his might. The man who had shot him pushed him to the floor.

The next shout died in Preston's throat; but those he had previously uttered seemed to come in echoing

Rapidly, the man who had been in the armor hurried down the hall and descended a convenient flight of

stairs. A call came up from the ground floor. There was another from the distant wing of the house.

At that moment, the door of the storeroom opened and a tall form in black stepped into the hall.

Too late to block the path of the killer, The Shadow at least could see the dying man upon the floor of the

curio room. With long, swift stride, he gained the spot where Arthur Preston lay.

The dying man's eyes were seeing darkness. As the black cloak loomed above him, it produced an entire

blanket of darkness. Preston, however, sensed the presence of a human being and the whisper that he heard

"Hurley Adams" the dying voice came in a choking gasp "find Hurley Adams! Death! Josiah Bartram!

Maurice Pettigrew; Hurley Adams; make him tell to save the others. Josiah Bartram "

The effort of repetition was too great. Gasping, Arthur Preston collapsed upon the floor, and lay in a huddled

The merchant was dead. The Shadow, delayed in his departure from the home of Hurley Adams, had arrived

Footsteps were pounding upon the stairway. Calls were coming from the rear of the house. The Shadow was

trapped in this room with a murdered man! To be captured would mean that crime would be blamed upon

The Shadow's low laugh mocked the word itself. But The Shadow had a definite motive in desiring to leave

this place unseen. He must not be confused with the real murderer. The scene of crime must remain exactly as

KEEN eyes spied the windows at the ends of the room. They were blocked, and too small to admit the

passage of a living person. The eyes turned upward. The soft laugh whispered grimly through the room of

The skylights, heavy frames of glass, were unfastened. The one on the right could not be viewed from the

With a swift motion, The Shadow gained the table where the firearms lay. Poised there, he shot his body

forward. His fingers caught the wooden framework beneath the skylight. One black hand pushed the glass

People were outside the room. They had seen Preston's body from the end of the hall. Startled cries came to

The Shadow's ears. The blackcloaked form writhed upward. Like a huge coil of ribbon, it wavered through

With amazing swiftness and superhuman agility, The Shadow had left the scene of crime a split second

before the first of the rescuers had arrived. No token remained to tell of his presence. Upon the darkened roof

They had worked tonight despite The Shadow. They had slain a new victim. The Shadow had arrived too

Arthur Preston, dying, had tried to tell what had occurred. His lips, now sealed with death, had blurted forth

incomplete statements. He had named two men whose deaths had already been recorded in Holmsford: Josiah

He had also named another Hurley Adams. Why had Preston cried that name? Hurley Adams was the man

who held the key to the situation of longforgotten crime. He was the man who had marked Arthur Preston's

That had been a portion of Arthur Preston's gasped message. What others were there? Who were they?

The Shadow had found Hurley Adams tonight. He had heard the man tell facts to Willard Saybrook. He had

heard Adams name two men as victims of the insidious fingers of death. He had heard Adams refuse to

Arthur Preston had been one of those. Arthur Preston had been found by The Shadow, even though The

Shadow had found him dying. There were others, threatened by the fingers of death.

The Shadow would find them, also. He would learn the secret of this strange death that came from murderous

fingers. Already, The Shadow had a clew to the source of crime a clew that had come from the fading tones

WILLARD SAYBROOK was in the living room of the house which had once belonged to Josiah Bartram.

Smiling and attempting a jocular attitude, the young man was talking with Grace Preston. But at heart,

Fingers of death! Their menace still persisted. Flashing through Saybrook's brain were the strange revelations

that Hurley Adams had made tonight. Revelations that branded the old lawyer as a criminal!

Momentarily, Willard Saybrook wondered about Hurley Adams. A man who would have admitted crime as

Adams had done was certainly placing himself in a bad light. Yet Saybrook was not too narrow to believe

Adams had confessed his errors under protest. He had done it so that Willard Saybrook would be able to

For a while, Saybrook had held doubts of the old lawyer's sincerity; had suspected that Adams might be

playing a cagey game. But when he had reached the Bartram homestead, Saybrook had indulged in sober

Uppermost in Saybrook's mind was the thought that he himself had expressed tonight. With fingers of death

engaged in crime, much might be learned by seeking clews from the past. Such clews might lie here, in this

Saybrook was familiar with the circumstances of Josiah Bartram's death and burial. He had gone over them,

tactfully, with Grace Bartram. He realized that only four persons had been close at hand during the days

before the old contractor had died. Those four were Grace Bartram, Doctor Felton Shores, Mahinda, and the

Doctor Shores had visited the house several times since Saybrook had arrived. As the family physician, he

was particularly anxious to learn how Grace Bartram was recovering from the strain of her uncle's death.

Shores had not come in this evening; but Mahinda was here, stalking back and forth on his usual errands. The

Hindu was garbed in a white, baggy suit, and he appeared and disappeared with the silence of a ghost.

Willard Saybrook felt nervous; and Mahinda increased his nervousness. Once, when Grace had called the

servant, Mahinda had not appeared; but he had bobbed up later at an unexpected moment, to quietly accept

MAHINDA was out of the room now, and Saybrook took the opportunity to earnestly discuss the servant

"That means nothing. Poor chap! He has been terribly upset since Uncle Josiah died."

"Twenty" Grace considered "twentytwo I think. I remember him ever since I was a tiny girl. A

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, in an admiring tone. "You know, Willard, he would have done anything for

my uncle. I believe he would have killed any one who would have threatened Uncle Josiah or myself. I feel

"Willard!" Grace's voice was filled with protest. "You must not talk that way, darling. You must never leave.

The girl's worry over Saybrook's comment caused her fiance to become soothing. He forgot his problems in

his effort to make amends for his unkind remark. Grace became smiling once more; and the two chattered

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Saybrook noticed the quickness with which Mahinda answered it. He had a

sudden thought that the Hindu had been expecting that ring. When Mahinda opened the door, Doctor Shores

The physician was as professional as usual; but he lapsed a little from his quietness as he greeted Willard

Saybrook and Grace Bartram. He remarked that it relieved him to visit a place where every one seemed well

and happy. Strolling about the room, Shores encountered Mahinda, and asked the servant for a drink of water.

Several minutes went by. Shores became laughingly impatient when Mahinda did not return. Grace, annoyed,

started to rise, saying that she would find Mahinda. Doctor Shores politely told her to be seated.

"I know my way around," he said, with a smile. "I'll find old Hindustanee and give him blazes in his native

Willard Saybrook was puzzled when he saw Doctor Shores walk away through the hall. He had noticed,

before, that the physician had a habit of making himself at home around this house. Tonight, after Mahinda

had gone at the order of Shores, the doctor's action of going in search seemed rather odd. Saybrook had a

Doctor Felton Shores and Mahinda, the servant! What could they have in common? The thought came to

Saybrook that they could only have formed an acquaintance during Josiah Bartram's lifetime, and specifically

WHILE Saybrook was reflecting thus, Mahinda returned, carrying the glass of water. He seemed surprised

not to see Doctor Shores. He set the glass of water on the table, and walked from the room without comment.

Saybrook wondered where he was going now. The ring of the telephone answered the question. Mahinda

"Doctor Shores?" The Hindu spoke with an odd accent. "He is here, sir. I shall call him."

The situation was now reversed. Mahinda had gone in search of the physician. The quest did not take him

long. He returned, followed by Shores, who was laughing. The physician spied the glass of water and drank it

A serious look replaced the doctor's smile when he heard the voice over the wire. He hung up the receiver

and turned, a glum look on his face. He caught the questioning gazes of the other persons, and finally decided

"Too bad," he said. "An accidental death. Prominent man in town, too. My patient. I must go up there now."

"It's Arthur Preston," informed the physician. "Shot himself while he was in his curio room, examining an

"Terrible thing," observed Willard Saybrook. "Particularly as it follows the Maurice Pettigrew matter."

Saybrook had made the statement almost without thinking. He realized that it was a mistake to have referred

He looked toward Doctor Shores to see what the physician's reaction had been, and he noted a look of deep

New thoughts were whirling through Willard Saybrook's mind. Arthur Preston! Could he have been another

Another idea struck Saybrook. Funny that the call should have come here for Doctor Shores. The physician

Probably a period of time had elapsed between the exact minute of Preston's death and this call. How long?

Saybrook wondered. He tried to picture what might have happened at Preston's home. The man had evidently

IT was after twelve o'clock now. Grace went upstairs, and Mahinda, disappeared. Willard Saybrook remained

smoking for half an hour, still wondering about the Preston case. He heard a knock at the door, and opened it,

"Ah!" exclaimed the physician. "So you're still up? Just driving by on my way home thought I'd stop in a

minute. Too bad about Arthur Preston" the physician shook his head sadly "too bad. I'm used to death,

"About an hour before they called me here" Doctor Shores hesitated "no, maybe it was less than that.

There's a physician living next door to Preston's. They called him in. Then they began to phone me. Tried a

The physician gave a brief description of circumstances as he had found them at Preston's; then he glanced

"I guess he went off duty of his own accord. Glad I was up when you stopped by, doctor. I'm just turning in

Saybrook accompanied the physician to the front door. After Shores had gone, he stood staring out into the

darkness. He did not see the car parked down the street. It was Harry Vincent's coupe. It had been there off

The car pulled away shortly after the young man closed the front door, but the vigil had not ceased. New eyes

had taken it up eyes that had appeared in the darkness after Harry Vincent had gone.

Those eyes peered through the window. They saw Willard Saybrook, but he did not see them. They were

After Saybrook had turned out the lights and gone upstairs, the eyes remained in the darkness outside the

house the only visible signs of a figure that moved with the invisibility of night itself.

The Shadow, unlike Harry Vincent, did not avoid a close approach to the Bartram mansion. In fact, after his

first inspection of the place, the strange investigator moved across the grounds at leisurely pace. His

blackened form made a blot as it passed the white marble front of the mausoleum where Josiah Bartram lay

Then, The Shadow was swallowed by the night. His disappearance ended the long chain of mystery that had

Why had The Shadow come to this spot? Had he, like Willard Saybrook, decided that the clew to strange

THE ringing of the telephone awoke Harry Vincent the next morning. He answered sleepily to hear a quiet

"I understand," said the voice, "that you are in Holmsford in order to study conditions in this county so far as

building enterprises are concerned. If you could meet me at your convenience, I believe that I can show you

Harry began to reply; suddenly the wire was interrupted. The click of the receiver at the other end was the

cause. Harry made no effort to resume the connection. He understood all that he needed to know. He had

Those emphasized words were the hidden message. They meant that Harry must go on duty. As Harry hung

up the receiver, he saw a key lying beside the telephone. He looked at it, and saw the number 902. That must

The Holmsford County Building, Harry knew, was where Hurley Adams had his office. Furthermore, Harry

had learned, the lawyer occupied Suite 904. For some reason, The Shadow desired Harry to be next door.

The Shadow had been at work last night. Parked near the Bartram house, Harry had suddenly discovered a

tiny envelope on the steering wheel of his coupe. Harry had not seen any one place it there. The envelope had

contained a coded note, telling Harry to leave for the hotel in ten minutes. He had done so, just after Doctor

In his room, Harry had written a report. It had gone in the table drawer. In his haste, Harry had not looked for

it this morning. But he knew that The Shadow must have entered while he was sleeping, to take the report

HARRY found that Suite 902 was an empty one. He unlocked the door and entered. In the inner office, he

gasped. There, on a table, rested a pair of receivers with a wire that led to the wall!

Harry knew immediately that The Shadow had done another job last night. He had installed a dictaphone that

After half an hour of futile listening, Harry Vincent's patience was rewarded. Some visitor had come to see

The voice suddenly impressed its identity. Willard Saybrook was the visitor! Harry could visualize Grace

IN this picturing, Harry was quite correct. Willard Saybrook had come to see Hurley Adams and The

Shadow had anticipated such a visit. Within twenty feet of Harry Vincent, but with a wall between, the young

"Tell me," Saybrook was asking, in a serious tone. "Was Arthur Preston one of the group?"

"No," responded Adams sadly. "I was on the point of warning him last night. I almost called him. I almost

went to see him. As a matter of fact, I did go out for a stroll. Perhaps it was fortunate that I did."

"That some one may have intended to take my life. Finding me absent, the assassin visited Preston and killed

"I decided," he said, "to wait until today to speak to Preston the one man whom I felt sure would not be

responsible for these crimes. I made an unfortunate mistake in waiting. I am extremely worried now; but I

"Tell me," said Saybrook, after a slight pause. "If you will not name the other members of the conspiring

group, will you answer me if I ask you regarding a certain man whether he is a member?"

"No," said Adams, in a puzzled tone. "Shores has not been in Holmsford more than twelve years. Why or,

Saybrook began an explanation. He told Adams of the events of the preceding night; how Shores had come to

"I don't like it," declared Saybrook. "Shores has been acting strangely. As for the Hindu the fellow called

Mahinda I don't trust him. It looked to me as though Shores and Mahinda went somewhere to hold a

"It might be good as well as bad," returned the old lawyer gravely. "Perhaps Shores suspects that Bartram

"That may be it!" exclaimed Saybrook. "I haven't spoken to Shores, of course. I can see it now. Shores would

"I am glad you spoke of this," declared Adams. "I would suggest that you watch both Shores and Mahinda.

They can suspect you of nothing, because they know you were not in Holmsford at the time Josiah Bartram

There was a long silence. Both men were considering possibilities. Adams began to speak; and his voice was

filled with doubt. He stated that the possible connection between those in Josiah Bartram's confidence

namely Shores and Mahinda with crime was something that must not be entirely overlooked. At the same

"Shores was not Pettigrew's physician," concluded Adams. "On the contrary, he was Preston's physician. That

balances the matter. It impresses me with one fact, however. I must act at once, with the plan I have in mind.

I think that I may be able to forestall future crime. Wait until you hear from me, Saybrook. At the same time,

WHEN the young man left the lawyer's office, neither he nor Adams knew that every word of their

conversation had been overheard and recorded by Harry Vincent. The Shadow's agent had completed a

This, however, had depended upon ear alone. Therefore, Harry was not cognizant of an important event

Reaching in his desk drawer, Hurley Adams fished until he found a stack of small red cards. He removed two

of these, and folded each one carefully within a sheet of paper. Taking two envelopes, he placed one card in

He called his secretary and instructed her to mail the letters. While the girl waited, Adams calmly addressed

Harry Vincent missed the significance of this over the dictaphone. He recorded the conversation; that was all.

She went directly to the mail chute, and there encountered an old, stoopshouldered man who was holding a

package of letters. Stepping back, the old gentleman tipped his hat and rested politely on his cane, while the

The lawyer's secretary did not see the keen glint in the old man's eyes. She did not suspect that he had read

both names and addresses. When she returned to the office, Adams asked her if she had mailed the letters.

The girl informed the lawyer that she had. She made no comment regarding the old man who had been

In fact, the old man was no longer in the hall when the girl closed the door of the outer office. He had

evidently mailed his letters and departed. The secretary was a trifle surprised, however, to realize that such a

She would have been more surprised had she seen the old man at that moment. He had descended by the

stairway, in preference to the elevator. Alone on the steps, he was moving swiftly downward, without the aid

The old man's lips held a faint smile, and in that secluded section of the Holmsford County Building, no one

could hear the strange laugh that those lips were uttering. It was a soft laugh scarcely more than a whisper

He had seen what Harry Vincent had not seen. Although he had not yet received Harry's report of the

conversation in the lawyer's office, The Shadow had divined the purpose of the letters which had been

Two letters a vital factor in what Hurley Adams planned! For those letters, sent by the arbitrator of a band

The Shadow, by keen intuition and shrewd observation, had not only learned how many yet remained; he had

Two more conspirators with Adams, the total was three. A trio of men, waiting for the fateful day when

Which of those three between now and that day were to feel the killing power that could come from

The warning messages had gone out. The Shadow knew and The Shadow would act. In the meantime,

Safety Director Julius Selwick was speaking from behind his desk in the Holmsford city hall. Howard Grady,

"I can't forget it, director!" protested Grady. "I agree with you that Maurice Pettigrew was a suicide. But this

"There were people in the house!" objected Selwick impatiently. "This case is more obvious than Pettigrew's

"Maybe I'm wrong," admitted Grady. "Maybe it was all that nut stuff up in the curio room that made me think

Julius Selwick smiled indulgently. The chief detective left the office. As soon as he was gone, the director's

"Murder," Julius Selwick mumbled. "Grady's nearer to the truth than he thinks. One two three. Well "

He shrugged his shoulders, and looked up as a man entered, bringing the late afternoon mail. Local deliveries

were prompt in Holmsford. Selwick noted that several envelopes bore a noon postmark.

"Got to keep Grady off the trail," muttered Selwick. "It's tough enough as is, without him finding out

With the indefinite remark, Selwick began to open his letters. An envelope ripped in his hands. Out came a

Julius Selwick examined the card. He laid it on the desk, and stared at the wall.

The wrinkles deepened in his forehead. He knew the meaning of this message. It was a summons that he had

The safety director glanced at a newspaper upon his desk. On the front page was a photograph of the old City

Bank building, a landmark for twenty years, now about to be torn down. Work would commence before the

Again, Selwick examined the card. He laughed gruffly. He tore it into fragments, and threw the pieces into

the empty wastebasket. The torn envelope followed. Selwick laid the rest of his mail aside. He did not care to

A PROMINENT figure in Holmsford business for many years, Julius Selwick had recently been appointed

safety director because of his firm, unyielding personality. He had proven himself capable at cleaning up

crime. He had laughed at the threats of racketeers who had tried to install themselves in Holmsford.

Today, however, Julius Selwick appeared perturbed. In fact, his mental attitude had not been at its best for

the past week. Howard Grady had noticed it; so had others; but none had made direct comment.

The safety director's office opened on a muchused corridor, and as Julius Selwick rose to leave the office, an

old gentleman hobbled in on a cane. He paused in front of the desk and offered a query.

The action was not noticed by Selwick, who was walking from the desk. He did not see the old man's eyes.

They brightened as the head was lowered. There, in the wastebasket, the old man spotted the fragments of the

He was the same old man who had been in the Holmsford County Building, beside the mail chute on the

ninth floor. The Shadow, visiting the safety director's office in Holmsford. The Shadow perfectly disguised.

The old man followed Selwick from the office, and the safety director pointed out the office that he wanted. It

Spreading his arms, he pressed the ends of his ornate cane between his hands. The walking stick collapsed to

tiny size as the hands came together. It dropped into the old man's pocket. Whisking the hat from his head,

the old man turned it inside out. It formed a new headpiece no longer a brown hat with turnedup brim, but

Gloves peeled away; slender fingers ran over the old man's face. The stooped form straightened. A waxed

Within thirty seconds from the time that he had entered the office, the old man was a new individual a

sternfaced, mustached person, whose age appeared about forty. Leaving the office, the transformed stranger

From then on, The Shadow, in his new personality, did not lose sight of the safety director. Both arrived at

the Elite Hotel, and it was not until Julius Selwick had entered the dining room for dinner that his trailer

Harry Vincent went into the dining room shortly afterward. He, in turn, watched Selwick.

Harry was acting under new and mysterious orders, received by telephone in his room, whither he had

returned at noon. He had filed a report on the dictaphone conversation. That had been removed from his table

IT was nearly eight o'clock when Julius Selwick left the dining room. Harry followed and took a seat in the

lobby. Various persons were passing through. Selwick lounged about, and Harry kept close watch. He saw

A short while afterward, a small, darkish man came in and passed directly before the seat where Harry was

stationed. Hardly had Harry seen him approach the desk before a small card nestled itself upon the chair arm,

where Harry's hand was resting. Turning curiously, Harry was surprised to see no one. There was a pillar

The writing did a fadeout before Harry's eyes. He knew the source of the note. It was from The Shadow. That

was sufficient. From now on, Harry had but one duty: to keep an eye on the stranger, who was now at the

Harry observed the man's features closely. Sallow and with shortclipped brown mustache, the face was easy

This man, like Selwick, headed for the elevator. Harry saw no one following him. He did not know that The

Shadow, still disguised, had entered another car while he had been observing the man he was to watch!

Even to his trusted agents, The Shadow was a being of mystery. Harry had long known that fact; he

The darkish man left the elevator at the fifth floor. At that very moment, Harry, in the lobby below, was

Harry made a mental note of the name. Ernest Risbey. Evidently a prominent citizen of Holmsford.

ON the fifth floor, Risbey was totally oblivious to the fact that his name had been mentioned in the lobby. He

was also oblivious to some one who was watching him at close range. Sharp eyes were upon the mustached

man as he stopped at the door near the end of a corridor eyes that peered from a side passage when Risbey

Three light taps. The door opened at Risbey's signal. The man entered a gloomy room to find two others

One was Hurley Adams, with gray hair and pale face. The other was Julius Selwick, heavyset and firm in

"The next room is empty," explained Adams. "I made sure of that before I engaged this one. I stated that I

The door at the side of the room was slowly opening. Inch by inch it unclosed, unseen by the three who had

forgotten it. The blackness beyond the door seemed to project itself into the room.

The door closed, as silently as it had opened. The tall form of The Shadow stood in view. The gleaming eyes

shone momentarily; then The Shadow merged with darkness beyond a huge dresser that was set against the

"An important time is here," responded Adams. "This is an emergency. We must settle a pressing problem."

Selwick became silent. Risbey's face took on an expression that was half cunning, half worry.

"Millions are at stake," asserted Adams slowly. "Those millions were to be shared by six. Tonight, there are

He paused to look at the other two men. Both seemed to share a momentary worry. Was that expression

"Within a week," continued Adams, "we shall I hope meet again to divide the spoils. Unfortunately" he

said the word as though he meant it "three of our number have died within the past week.

"That fact is not to my liking. I should have preferred to see all share and share alike. Some plot has arisen

a plot of elimination. Unless our secret has been betrayed, the plotter is one of us three. He is more than a

"I feared this," said Risbey, with sudden nervousness. "Those three deaths have amazed me. Tell me, Adams.

Risbey shifted restlessly in his chair. Adams watched him intently. After a short pause, the lawyer turned to

"I don't know," responded Selwick, in a gruff tone. "If your idea is correct, Adams, it's either you or Risbey.

"Let us forget the past," suggested Adams. "We are close to the goal for which we have waited twentyodd

years. There is sufficient wealth for all of us. I am willing to make this agreement: assuming that I am

responsible for what has occurred in any way whatever I will assure both of you that nothing further will

"I am," affirmed Risbey. "I'm not responsible; but if I were, I'd call it quits."

"If I have been a murderer," said Selwick, with a short laugh, "I'll lay off from now on."

THE three studied one another. A feeling of mutual mistrust prevailed. Hurley Adams shook his head

wearily. He gave the impression that he had expected great results from this conference, but was now

"I'll put a new slant on it," suggested Selwick. "If one of us three is the killer, it's a sure bet he isn't going to

"As long as there are three of us, no one can be sure who the slayer is because there's two to pick from. But

if the murderer kills one of us then there'll be only two. The innocent man will know the other is guilty."

A relieved expression came over Ernest Risbey's face. The darkish manufacturer was impressed by Selwick's

statement. He bore the look of a man who has been freed from an impending threat.

"Good logic," said Hurley Adams quietly. "It had not occurred to me in just that way. I am glad you spoke,

Selwick. You have given good reason why we three should be in accord. Remember when only two

"When the cornerstone has been opened. Its contents will be made public, including the historical sketch.

That is a customary procedure. Forget the past. Remember: the spoils are safe with three of us. With two,

there is danger. With only one well, that may be impossible. The man who killed did wrong. But there is no

The conference was ended. Hurley Adams had won his point, with Julius Selwick's aid. The three men arose

Into the gloom came The Shadow. Standing like a specter from the afterworld, he laughed in a tone that was

weird and low. Soft taunts of chilling mockery came from the walls of the gloomy room.

In the lobby below, three men were going their separate ways. Two of them, however, displayed discretion, if

only as a gesture. Julius Selwick, the first to leave, was met by a detective from headquarters as he neared the

Hurley Adams was not lacking in a bodyguard. His man, Unger, joined him as he walked across the lobby.

Ernest Risbey, alone, had taken no precaution; nevertheless, he, too, was provided for, though without his

A young man followed as Risbey went from the hotel. Harry Vincent, agent of The Shadow, had been

detailed to watch him tonight. The Shadow had foreseen that the other two would be wise enough to have

HARRY VINCENT'S instructions were plain. He was to follow Ernest Risbey and discover where the man

went. It was probable, Harry knew, that Risbey would go to his home. Once he had seen the man reach that

spot, Harry was to keep watch and, if he suspected any danger, make a call at the house.

With his mythical occupation of a construction representative, Harry had an ideal method of approach. The

retired manufacturer was interested in building enterprises. As a logical caller, Harry could telephone word to

The Shadow from Risbey's home. A mere call to the hotel to inquire if any one was in his room would be the

All this had been arranged in instructions which Harry had received during the day. Nevertheless, Harry did

There was a reason why he had been placed on this duty tonight. Hitherto, murders had occurred at

intervals. One was unlikely on this evening. Hence, The Shadow, with other plans on hand, had intrusted the

Ernest Risbey had left the hotel lobby immediately upon arriving there. He walked across the street to a drug

After several minutes, Risbey came out; he returned as an afterthought and purchased some cigars. Fully ten

Risbey stood beside the lighted curb, engaged in continued thought. He began to glance nervously about him;

then, tugging at his mustache, the man walked along the street until he reached an expensive sedan that was

This was Harry's cue. The Shadow's agent hurried to his own car, which was across the street, and seated

himself at the wheel. The street was broad and afforded sufficient opportunity to turn. Gazing through the

rear window, Harry waited to see the direction in which Ernest Risbey intended to go.

The manufacturer was in no great hurry. After entering the front seat of his sedan, he sat idly at the wheel,

thinking over the conference that had taken place in the hotel. At last, Risbey fumbled in his pocket, produced

a key, and turned on the ignition switch. He also lighted the dashboard. Then, with one hand upon the wheel,

Had he glanced into the mirror before him, the manufacturer would have seen a ghastly sight. Rising from the

rear portion of the car, looming now directly behind his shoulder, was a fiendish face that wore a look of

hideous glee. Beside the face was an extended hand which held a needlepointed object of metal.

Face and hand were coming slowly forward; then the fingers of the hand were most conspicuous. Fiendish

The tip of the needle was scarcely an inch from Risbey's unprotected neck when the manufacturer, by some

chance, happened to see the mirror. In the reflected surface he saw the claws that held the hypodermic.

HORRIFIED, Risbey knew their mission. A gasp of recognition came as he saw the blurred face that showed

in the gloom. Then, before the manufacturer could act to save himself, the hypodermic needle jabbed into his

neck. Thrusting it with devilish venom, the fingers tightened as they did their evil work.

Ernest Risbey slumped behind the wheel. The fingers still remained; then slowly drew the needle point away.

Risbey's lips were moving, but no utterance came from his throat. A blotch upon his neck narrowed to an

Face and fingers were withdrawing. The door on the curb side opened and closed. The murderer was gone.

Another of the conspirators had met his end! Within a half hour after Hurley Adams had delivered his

ultimatum, and Julius Selwick had responded with a logical plea for no more deaths, Ernest Risbey had been

When news of this foul deed would be learned, Adams or Selwick whichever one was innocent would

No one had seen this murder in the dark. No one had even suspected it; but across the street, one man was

Did the man suspect that he would be followed? What was he doing so long in the car?

As time went tensely by, Harry feared that Risbey might have dodged out of the automobile unseen. Such

would have been an easy matter, for the side toward the curb was invisible from Harry's coupe.

This was time for investigation, Harry decided. Leaving his car, the young man sauntered across the street.

He walked past the sedan; then, seeing no one close at hand, retraced his steps and paused to light a cigarette

AS the flame from the match died away, Harry saw the man within. He glimpsed the form of Ernest Risbey,

slumped behind the wheel. The man's upturned face was tilted sidewise. Sightless eyes stared toward the door

Acting quickly, Harry opened the rear door of the car with his left hand, while his right drew a revolver and

held it hidden by his body. Harry was ready for the assassin, but the light streaming in from the street lamp

Upon the dead man's neck was the tiny crimson spot that showed how doom had come. The mark was slowly

Quickly, Harry Vincent stepped away from the sedan, closing the door. People were approaching on the

street. Harry was fortunate to escape their notice as he hurriedly walked behind the big car.

Arriving at his room in the hotel, Harry found the place empty. He hurriedly penned a coded note, telling

what had occurred, and placed the message in the writingtable drawer. Then, knowing that The Shadow

would be here shortly, Harry left the room. When he returned, after putting his coupe away, he found that the

The Shadow now knew that Ernest Risbey was dead. Until further word came from his mysterious chief, it

Peering from the window, Harry could distinguish Risbey's car across the street. It was the same as before

and Harry knew that the body of the dead man must still be there, awaiting discovery later in the night.

Keenly though Harry watched, his eyes did not detect the tall form in black that moved away from the side of

the parked sedan. Like a creature of invisibility, shrouded in his cloak of sable hue, The Shadow had gone to

A phantom of darkness, The Shadow could escape the eyes of all passers. He was seen by none in Holmsford

It hovered, later, amid the blackness that surrounded the gloomy mansion where Josiah Bartram had lain

during his last illness. Sharp, glowing eyes were peering from the dark when Doctor Felton Shores emerged

When all was silent on the lawn, a low laugh sounded. Scarcely more audible than the sighing whisper of a

breeze, it betokened uncanny mirth. The mockery of that laugh signified a knowledge of hidden mysteries.

Once more The Shadow had been balked by the fingers of death. They were due to work again; and when

Long after midnight, a phantom shape was watching from the darkened front of the Elite Hotel when a

passing patrolman stopped to examine the sedan that was now parked alone on the street. A startled grunt

After a brief examination, the policeman hurried away to call up headquarters. In the silence of the street, the

The phantom shape was gone when the patrol arrived to take away the body of Ernest Risbey, the newest

LATE the next evening, a large car stopped before the home of Julius Selwick. The safety director alighted,

accompanied by Chief Detective Howard Grady. The gruff, heavyjowled safety director was in no amiable

Together, the pair went up to the second floor and entered a room which Selwick used as an office in his

The room had two doors, one from the front hall; the other an entrance that opened upon the back stairs.

"Maybe the Risbey case is murder," declared Selwick. "That looks bad, I'll admit. But you can't go on

figuring a string of crimes. What bearing does this have on the deaths of Preston and Pettigrew? Bosh!"

"There's something wrong in Holmsford," declared Grady calmly. "That's why I'm not giving up on any

point. People don't die in odd ways, one after another particularly when they are all prominent persons in

the same town. I'll tell you something I've been thinking about tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if old Josiah

"Rot!" snorted Selwick. "Listen, Grady. If you want to do some heavy work, concentrate on this Risbey case,

but let the others ride for the time. Be careful and methodical. Don't come to conclusions too quickly. It takes

Julius Selwick then settled back in his chair. The man looked very tired. Grady noted it, and made a

"I always work too hard," admitted Selwick. "This job has been wearing. I'm going to resign shortly, Grady.

"I've got no kick," answered Grady, with a grin. "You're a good man to work for, director."

There was a long pause. Grady wondered what Selwick was thinking about. He would have been surprised

Julius Selwick was considering Hurley Adams. There were reasons, tonight, why he wanted a man detailed to

watch the old lawyer. But there were also reasons why Selwick could not give such an order. The principal

With the chief detective's mind set on solving murder, it would be an unwise step to have him on the trail of

Hurley Adams. It was bad enough that the detective should see a link between the deaths that had been

"Tonight," said Selwick, "I'll think over what you have said. I'm going to rest a while, Grady. Suppose you

stay here. Sometimes, after I have rested a bit, I get a good hunch. You go downstairs and bring in those four

men of yours. Have them come up here, and you can give them their orders. Don't make too much noise

Grady nodded. Selwick had referred to four detectives who had come in another car, which was waiting in

the street outside of Selwick's drive. Grady had intended to leave with them after a conference with the safety

SELWICK stared downward at the desk when Grady had gone. If the chief detective's suspicions made it

unwise to keep a man on the trail of Adams, it would, at least, be easy to have some men stationed here where

But Selwick did not want to show any anxiety concerning his own safety. That was why he had made the

pretext of needing a short rest. There was a couch in the room adjoining this office. He could lie there a

Selwick suddenly gained the impression that some one had entered the room. He stared upward, and his

Like a monster of the night, this strange being had entered, unheard and unseen. Piercing eyes gazed from

beneath the brim of a dark slouch hat. Firm, blackgloved hands projected from the folds of a flowing cloak.

The sight of the weapon made Selwick quail. Who was this mysterious personage who carried a threat of

A low laugh came to Selwick's ears. It was the laugh of The Shadow a sound that chilled Selwick and made

him shudder. The mockery was low, but its whispered tones quivered through the room, and reverberated

Selwick's paling face revealed his thoughts. The man believed that he was about to die at the hands of a

mysterious assassin. The hopelessness of his expression became more evident. The Shadow's laugh ceased.

"Julius Selwick," sounded from The Shadow, in a voice as terrifying as his laugh, "I have come to save your

life not to take it. I know all that concerns the conspiracy in which you were engaged. I know of the

"But for me, you would be doomed. I, alone, can lift the menace that confronts you. I, alone, can stop the evil

"Forget all hope of illgained wealth. Seek only to prevent further crime to obstruct the one who will

A sullen leer manifested itself upon Julius Selwick's lips. Despite the sternness of The Shadow's tone, the

bluff safety director had regained some composure when he realized that the blackclad avenger had not

"I understand your thoughts, Selwick," declared The Shadow, in a slow, uncanny voice. "Last night, when

you said that when one of three was dead, one of two would know, you were wrong. Fingers of death! They

THE final words came in a sepulchral whisper. Never before had Julius Selwick heard such sinister tones.

The Shadow's direct reference to the conference of the night before was frightening. How had this strange

"I bring you opportunity," concluded The Shadow, in the same deep whisper that came in weird diapason to

Selwick's ears. "I offer you one chance to perform your duty. Forgo the stolen riches. Let them be restored to

their rightful owners. In return, I shall name the murderer and lead you to him."

A hunted fear filled Selwick's eyes. The Shadow divined its cause, and added a needed statement.

"You need not fear betrayal," his eerie voice declared. "Once known, the murderer will be afraid to speak. He

will know that he will not be believed if he names you as a conspirator. Moreover, he may not have the

Selwick caught the significance of the last sentence. The Shadow held no pity for the criminal whom he was

willing to unmask. A murderer might well be killed in course of capture. These words eased Selwick's fear.

For the first time since The Shadow had appeared, Selwick found his voice. He spoke in a pleading tone, and

"How can I act?" he queried. "What shall I do? I am willing to work with you willing to accept your terms."

"Mislead Grady no longer," declared The Shadow. "Work with him. Rely upon me. You have fostered crime

by keeping silence and obstructing Grady's work. You have tried to keep a secret which will be of no use to

you letting murdered men go unavenged in your mad desire to protect the wealth you want."

The accusation seemed to cower Selwick. The man crouched back in his chair and huddled there, a pitiful

wretch. The Shadow's hands were lowered. His automatic had disappeared. His right arm raised now, and his

"You can make amends, Julius Selwick," said The Shadow, in even tones. "I have given you the opportunity.

Life in return for your written statement to do as I have bidden you. Once you have fulfilled your duty, that

Selwick, cowering, suddenly changed his action. His cringing attitude; his bowed head both proved

themselves shams. Sliding his chair back from the desk, the safety director came bolt upward, a shining

His terror had turned to frenzy. Desire for wealth had persisted. His object was to kill this visitant who had

AS Selwick's finger felt the trigger of the gun, The Shadow's form came plunging forward across the desk.

The fall preceded the revolver shot. As Selwick fired, The Shadow's left arm arrived, and a gloved hand

A strange, swift action that worked. By his prompt lunge, The Shadow diverted the shot. The bullet tore a gap

through the brim of the black hat, and implanted itself at the top of the wall, near the ceiling.

Again, Selwick fired. This shot was very wide. The Shadow was twisting the director's wrist. Selwick,

purplefaced, tried to struggle. The lithe black form swept suddenly upon him. The big man sprawled upon

The black cloak swished, and its shimmering folds showed a crimson lining as The Shadow whirled to his

feet and crossed the room in one long stride. He was by the door, his automatic covering Selwick.

Despite the fact that Selwick had made an attempt upon his life, The Shadow bore no malice toward the man

whom he had overcome. The Shadow had entered here to offer Selwick a chance to live not to die.

Shouts came from outside the house. The shots had been heard across the lawn, by the police car where

Detective Grady had been talking with his men. The Shadow had come here to treat with Julius Selwick

alone. His only course was to leave, now that the safety director had refused his terms.

To reach the side door of the room, The Shadow would have to cross the spot where Selwick was lying on the

floor. That might involve an encounter with the man. The Shadow chose the way that led to the front hall. His

Infuriated, Selwick scrambled to his feet and seized his revolver. He leaped forward in pursuit. As he neared

the door of the room, he caught a glimpse of The Shadow's form at the top of the stairs. The Shadow's path

Turning, The Shadow pointed his automatic and turned in Selwick's direction. The shot was a warning. It

whistled close to the director's chin. In cowardly fright, Selwick dived back into the room. From the corner of

For, now, The Shadow was on the stairs, face to face with a quintet of men who were coming upward with

drawn guns. So quickly had the blackclad figure appeared that none realized its arrival until The Shadow,

His amazing rush toppled Chief Detective Grady, the leader of the reinforcements. Grady caught the rail of

the banister, and clung there as The Shadow shot by. The other men were not so fortunate. The Shadow, his

Cries sounded as the startled men rolled down the steps of the wide staircase. Their bodies had received the

full force of The Shadow's plunge. Wildly, the detectives sought to save themselves as they hurtled

One man the last of those upon the steps had grimly seized the black form that came like a thunderbolt

from the floor above. This fellow was carried on by the impetus of The Shadow's dive. The lone detective lay

beneath the blackgarbed form as the entangled bodies rolled to a stop at the foot of the steps.

THE figure of The Shadow moved. Rising, The Shadow stood uninjured above the halfconscious form of

Like a diver plunging from a high board, The Shadow had suffered no ill consequences. He had let his

adversaries take the brunt of the fall. His cloak was twisted about his tall frame; the brim of the slouch hat

With a laugh that faded in a moment, The Shadow gazed toward the stairs down which he had come. Men

were strewn all along, from Grady, near the top, to the last of the five at the bottom. Only one was capable of

prompt action; that was Grady, who was gripping his revolver as he regained his balance by the banister.

The chief detective raised his gun, believing that the moving figure in the black would form a target on its

way toward the front door. The Shadow, however, did not take that path. Swinging, he headed into a side

The other detectives were gaining their feet. Bruised, shaken, but capable of action, they scrambled down the

steps, regaining their guns. The only one who failed to join this pursuit of The Shadow was the man who lay

The Shadow had gained a precious start over the three who were following him. With his object purely to

leave his identity a mystery, and the purpose of his visit a matter known only to Julius Selwick, The Shadow

As the three detectives reached the porch outside of Selwick's home, they saw no sign of their sableclad

assailant. But, to their ears came the sound of strident mockery a fanfare of mirth that rippled weirdly

Off on a fool's chase, the detectives hurried toward the spot from which they believed the laugh had come. A

hopeless effort was theirs. They were seeking The Shadow the man who could merge with night!

AFTER he had fired futilely toward the vanishing form of The Shadow, Chief Detective Howard Grady stood

grimly at the head of the stairs. His men had taken up the chase. Well behind them, unable to take the lead,

Grady hesitated momentarily. He heard a voice speaking from the top of the stairs. He turned to see Julius

"We didn't get him, director," informed Grady. "Three of the boys are after him, though. Maybe they'll catch

"I don't know," vouchsafed Selwick. "Some fanatic I suppose. He came here to threaten me with a gun. I

The chief detective nodded, and made a move as though to descend the steps. Selwick stopped him with a

"You'd better stay here, Grady," he said. "I'm going back into my room. Come on up I want to talk with

Grady nodded. He realized that Selwick must have undergone a startling ordeal, and that it would be best for

him to stay. Grady was too late, now, to help in the pursuit. However, he pointed out the man who was lying

"Maddox looks sort of dazed," explained Grady. "I'd better see how he is. I'll be right up, director."

As Grady descended the stairs to give first aid to the fallen detective, Julius Selwick went back into his little

office. He stood beside his desk, and chewed his puffy lips as he recalled the strange encounter with The

Who was this accusing being in black? Why had he come here like a specter from the past? Had his words

held an important meaning? Did a real menace exist a murderer whose cunningness surpassed belief?

Selwick was incredulous. He thought of Hurley Adams and wondered if the old lawyer was at large tonight.

In Selwick's mind, Adams was responsible entirely for these crimes. That did not annoy the safety director.

He believed that Adams had killed off the conspirators one by one, leaving him to last. Selwick considered

Until The Shadow had appeared, Selwick had believed himself immune from attack. Now he was determined

to run no further risk. He would have to put a man to cover Adams for it was possible, Selwick believed,

THE SHADOW'S visit here would be sufficient pretext to lull Chief Detective Grady. Selwick's life had been

threatened by a fanatic. Selwick would require a bodyguard. He could also express a fear for the safety of

other persons in town, and thus have men trail Adams and a few others using the latter as blinds so that

Furthermore, Selwick decided, he could force Grady to concentrate upon the events which had happened here

tonight, thus keeping the chief detective off the trail of the deaths which he believed were murders.

Staring at his desk, Selwick saw a newspaper, and he recalled an item that he had read in it today.

Demolition of the old bank building was already under way. The bank president had mentioned the matter of

the cornerstone. He had stated that its contents would be placed on exhibit as a matter of interest to the

The historical record! It would be common property then! Julius Selwick felt convinced that the secret of the

fourth paragraph could be known only to himself and one other living man Hurley Adams!

Selwick smiled and moved along the side of the desk. As earlier this evening, something prompted him to

look up. This time he stared in the direction of the side door and there he spied a sight that chilled him as

Just within the range of light was a hand. It held a revolver, and the long, clutching fingers of that hand filled

The index finger lay upon the trigger of the gun. The muzzle of the weapon loomed tunnellike before

Selwick's eyes. He was covered by the revolver. His cause was hopeless. With a pitiful gasp, Selwick stared

The hand moved forward as a man moved into the light. A gasp of horror sprang to Selwick's lips. In a flash,

he recognized this potential murderer. In the same instant, Selwick realized the wisdom of The Shadow's

The blackgarbed visitant had brought him genuine warning an opportunity to uncover a criminal so

insidious that only a superman could have guessed the craft that the fiend possessed!

The words of Hurley Adams were fleeting through Selwick's mind. The old lawyer, knowing well that all

conspirators would have preserved their secret, had called that meeting. Risbey had died. Now Selwick was

Regrets were too late. As Julius Selwick leaped forward, crying forth the name of the man who confronted

him, the revolver spoke in a single roar. The safety director sprawled forward, and rolled over at the feet of

The murderer chuckled as he moved back into darkness. Fingers of death had done their work again. The

Shadow had come to warn Selwick, and to make terms with him. Even then, the murderer had been lurking in

HAD Selwick listened to The Shadow, his life would have been safe. But Selwick's precipitous action, his

own attempt to kill The Shadow, had forced the man of the night to make a swift departure. The very

detectives whom Selwick had summoned to serve as a secret bodyguard had issued forth on a fool's errand, in

Their departure had been the murderer's opportunity. Julius Selwick lay slain. His name would be added to

the list of those who had died in Holmsford. Josiah Bartram Maurice Pettigrew Arthur Preston Ernest

Only one man was anxious to cry out the belief that a single murderer was responsible for those deaths. That

man was Chief Detective Howard Grady. He was already rushing to the spot where this newest crime had

occurred. While helping Maddox, the chief detective had heard the shot from Selwick's room. Grady was

The murderer still lingered in the darkness beyond the side door of the room. He was watching the final death

agony of Selwick's frame. He had believed that all others had rushed forth in pursuit. The murderer did not

The chief detective had his revolver in his hand. He saw Julius Selwick's dead form. Instinctively, he glanced

beyond. He saw a dim face in the darkness. He caught a fleeting recognition as he fired at this murderer.

Grady had not reckoned with the fingers of death. The chief detective had foolishly rushed into the room. The

hand beyond the door was already raised. Its revolver shone within the range of light.

Howard Grady had suspected too much. He now knew too much. The murderer's safety depended upon the

Fingers of death! While all but one of them clutched the gun, the other pressed the trigger before Howard

Grady could fire. Another shot burst through the little room. A bullet winged its way to Grady's heart. The

Maddox, the detective downstairs, heard the second shot. Duty roused him from his lethargy. He came slowly

up the stairs and staggered into the lighted room. His senses came back swiftly as he recognized the bodies on

Julius Selwick and Howard Grady both dead! The detective was stupefied at the carnage. He stood looking

at the bodies, forgetting that he was, himself, an easy target for any one who might be lurking there.

But the menace was gone. The murderer had left, seeking promptly an easy egress by the stairs that led to the

side door of the house. Only a halfdazed man remained, unable to begin immediate pursuit.

WILLARD SAYBROOK was restless. Seated alone in the living room of the Bartram home, he was trying to

Last night, Doctor Felton Shores had called again. The physician had strolled about the house as though he

owned it. Saybrook had paid no apparent attention to the fact. But in the morning, he had become extremely

Saybrook had paid a prompt visit to the office of Hurley Adams. The old lawyer had sadly admitted that

Ernest Risbey was another of the conspirators. But Adams had assured Saybrook that no further crime would

follow. In fact, he had told the young man that he might soon be able to reveal the name of the murderer.

Somehow Hurley Adams had then seemed more at ease, and his quietude had lulled Willard Saybrook.

Nevertheless, the young man, upon his return to the Bartram house, had decided that nothing could be lost by

Saybrook was familiar with the house, but there were parts of it that had perplexed him. There were

storerooms on the upper floor that had not been touched since Josiah Bartram's death. This was due to a

simple clause in the will that had stated that nothing should be disturbed on the premises until after the estate

Similarly, there were rooms on the ground floor that were useless. One of these was an old parlor in the

corner; the other was a small workroom where Josiah Bartram had kept plans and specifications of buildings.

Both of these rooms, filled with unneeded furniture and discarded articles, were locked so that they would not

Mahinda had the keys; and, so far as Saybrook knew, the Hindu never troubled to visit either place.

Saybrook was familiar with the rooms, for they had been open occasionally during Josiah Bartram's declining

months of life. Until tonight, however, Saybrook had paid no attention to them. The cloud of suspicion that

still made him wonder about the cause of Josiah Bartram's death now made the young man speculative

Although he had never liked Mahinda, Saybrook had been more observant of Doctor Shores than he had of

the Hindu. He had come to regard the servant as merely a freakish type of foreigner. Hence, last night, while

watching Shores, Saybrook had not observed that he, himself, was being watched by Mahinda.

TONIGHT, now that Grace Bartram had retired, Saybrook was trying to read a book; and he did not realize

that Mahinda, in the hallway, was studying every change of emotion that manifested itself upon Saybrook's

It was not until the doorbell rang that Saybrook knew the servant was close at hand. Looking up, he saw

Doctor Shores was the midnight visitor. The physician smiled as he saw Saybrook. He shook hands with the

"Terribly busy," commented the physician. "All worn out. Need a rest. You're a lifesaver, Saybrook, you

night owl! Every time I come by the house I see a light in the living room, and I just have to drop in to say

hello. It relieves me to talk a while with some one after a strenuous day. All asleep at home when I get there."

"Reading?" questioned Shores, in an affable tone. "Go right ahead. Don't let me disturb you. I'll sit around

and take it easy for a few minutes. More comfortable here than home. Puts me in good fettle."

Saybrook returned to his book. The physician's suggestion evidently had a purpose. Saybrook decided to

watch while pretending to read. He noted that Mahinda was not around. Saybrook was playing for a break. It

When the young man appeared deeply engrossed in his book, Doctor Shores arose and strolled about the

room. He finally went into the hallway, and disappeared. Saybrook laid his book aside. He stole to the door of

Quickly, Saybrook crossed the hall into the dark dining room. From there, he reached the pantry and opened a

side door that led back into the hall. From that spot he could view the narrow passage that led to the old,

disused parlor. The passage went by the door of the old workroom, which was set down a short pair of steps.

Saybrook watched. He saw the door of the workroom open. Out came the whiteclad form of Mahinda. The

servant went through the hall, and Saybrook realized that it was too late for him to get back to his book. So he

waited in the darkness of the pantry. The door of the workroom opened a minute later. This time, Felton

With prompt thought, Saybrook let the door of the pantry close. He hurried across the room and raised the

pantry window. He dropped out upon the lawn, circled to the front of the house, and began to rap at the front

Saybrook did not deign to give Mahinda a direct explanation. Instead, he spoke nonchalantly to Doctor

"Stepped outside for a whiff of fresh air," he explained. "Too much reading makes me groggy. Forgot all

Saybrook picked up his book, closed it, and laid it aside. He removed his coat and vest, and made himself

comfortable for a chat with the physician. They talked of minor matters, but through the conversation,

Saybrook could see that Shores was nervous. The physician's mind was unquestionably worried.

Mahinda stalked in and out, according to his usual fashion. At last, Doctor Shores prepared to leave.

Saybrook had just lighted a cigarette. He walked to the door with his visitor, and bade the physician good

Standing coatless in the illuminated doorway, Willard Saybrook stared out into the night and kept his eye

fixed upon the departing physician. Behind him, also framed in light, Mahinda, a gleam upon his dark face,

A strange combination. Shores was leaving, oblivious to the fact that he was being studied by Saybrook, who

Saybrook finished his cigarette. He flicked it toward the lawn. He turned back into the house. By this time,

Saybrook went back to his book. He saw Mahinda appear and bolt the front door. The servant's work was

ended for the night. As Saybrook watched him walk away, he felt sure that Mahinda was retiring.

ONE thought dominated Willard Saybrook. Tonight as Saybrook had previously suspected Doctor

Shores had come here on a pretext. His purpose had presumably been a friendly call. Actually, the physician

Saybrook now had evidence that the two had talked together. He knew their secret meeting place the old,

unused workroom that was always locked. An ideal spot for an unnoticed conference.

This answered a question that had been baffling Saybrook ever since the night of Arthur Preston's death the

night that Doctor Shores had sent Mahinda for a glass of water, and then himself disappeared.

Doctor Shores and Mahinda were plotters. What had brought them together? Josiah Bartram's death? If so, it

Other deaths had occurred in Holmsford. Saybrook suspected Doctor Shores as the murderer, with Mahinda

Saybrook realized that his own presence in this house was something that Doctor Shores could not logically

have foreseen. If Shores were a criminal and Mahinda knew the fact it was only likely that the physician

should choose this place as his secret headquarters, figuring that Grace Bartram would suspect nothing.

Shores had been here every night that a murder had occurred always at an hour following the crime.

Had another killing transpired tonight? Morning would tell; and in the morning, Willard Saybrook would,

In the meantime, Saybrook decided that a very definite step would be advisable. Perhaps some evidence lay

within that room where Shores and Mahinda had met. The door was probably locked; and entrance might be

Stealthily, Saybrook left the room and prowled through the rear portion of the hall, which was dimly lighted.

He reached the darkened passage toward the parlor. He stopped at the door of the workroom.

Beyond lay a secluded door that opened to the outside of the house, through a narrow vestibule, situated

between workroom and parlor. Saybrook did not go that far. He wanted to enter the workroom, and as he

turned the knob at the foot of the steps, he was surprised and pleased to find the door yielding to pressure.

A moment later, the young man stood within a narrow, lowceilinged apartment. A match flickered in his

hands. Saybrook saw a lamp, and turned it on. He noted that the room was quite small, and had no windows.

BACK by the door, Saybrook dropped the burned match on the steps. Confident that the glow of the lamp

could not be seen beyond the confines of the passage, he went to the table in the workroom and began a

His eyes were keen, his ears were intent. Yet Saybrook did not hear the stealthy approach of a man who

entered the room behind him. His first knowledge that he was not alone came when a form plumped upon

As a fierce arm twisted itself about his neck, and his breath came in a harsh choke, Saybrook, trying to wrest

The Hindu's eyes were blazing with a glow of fury. He had gained the advantage in the fray, and he intended

Twisting backward, Willard Saybrook slumped against the table. Black hands gripped his throat. His head

was thumped against the table; then, as he subsided, Saybrook received another heavy jar as his head banged

After that, all was black. Bereft of consciousness, Willard Saybrook lay helpless in the Hindu's grasp.

Mahinda arose then and extinguished the light. Long minutes crept by, while vague, mysterious sounds

occurred. The door to the steps closed as Mahinda stole away. Once more, the room was empty and locked!

The strange and unexpected attack had been witnessed by no one. Mahinda had deliberately lured Willard

Saybrook into betraying himself. No better spot could have been chosen for such swift and certain action.

Mahinda's footsteps stole upstairs, but not until after the servant had put out all lights on the ground floor.

The house was completely dark within and the allpervading silence extended even into the empty

workroom, where Willard Saybrook had been overpowered and where he no longer lay!

ALL this time, Harry Vincent, seated at the wheel of his coupe, was watching the Bartram mansion. He had

been deputed to keep tabs on whoever visited there tonight, and from a secluded parking spot, Harry had

made careful observations until finally the livingroom light had been extinguished, and the house was

Instructions, tonight, were for Harry to await word from The Shadow. How that word would come, Harry

He was anxious to communicate with his mysterious chief, for Harry's observations tonight had been

unusual. With the house darkened, Harry peered vainly across the recesses of the lawn, off to the rise of

For a moment, Harry fancied that he had seen a fleeting patch of black cross that distant white surface. He

watched, but saw no similar manifestation. He settled back into the seat of the coupe, and rested there in total

Despite the fact that the door on the right of the coupe was scarcely more than an arm's length away, Harry

did not hear it open and close a few moments later. The Shadow's agent was totally unaware that some one

had joined him in the coupe, until a low, whispered voice spoke from the darkness close beside him.

Harry Vincent was amazed. With uncanny stealth, the master of darkness had joined his agent in the car. To

Harry's mind came the recollection of that distant patch of black against the whiteness of the mausoleum. The

The Shadow was here, in person, waiting to hear what his agent had observed during the long vigil that had

In a low, cautious tone, Harry spoke to the unseen personage beside him. He could not see The Shadow. To

all appearances, the car was empty save for Harry himself. The darkened interior completely masked the

presence of the blackgarbed listener. The Shadow was as obscure as darkness itself.

Harry named the time that Doctor Shores had come to the house. He added how Willard Saybrook had

appeared at the door to watch the physician leave. He mentioned that Saybrook was in his shirt sleeves. He

also told of seeing Mahinda stare at Saybrook from the hallway, without being noticed by Saybrook.

Harry's voice denoted an apprehension. He had seen the lights extinguished some minutes afterward. He

recalled that he had glimpsed Saybrook's whiteshirted form moving across a window of the living room;

"Be ready," came The Shadow's whisper. "Watch the same window. Follow the red light. Leave if a green

Harry nodded at the cryptic instructions. He began to speak again; then realized that The Shadow's words

were final. Harry waited for The Shadow to act. There was no motion in the dark. With sudden amazement,

Harry realized that the mysterious visitant had left as silently as he had come!

AT that very moment, The Shadow was moving across the lawn to the Bartram mansion. He arrived at the

window of the living room. Invisible hands moved upward and pried noiselessly. The window raised, and a

A tiny light, no larger than a half dollar, threw its rays along the floor. The guarded illumination cast no

The light revealed Willard Saybrook's coat and vest. The young man had laid them on an obscure chair. They

must have escaped Mahinda's attention. To The Shadow, these were a clew. Saybrook would probably have

The tiny light blazed a concentrated path across the hallway. It entered the dining room. It returned and

headed for the passage at the rear of the hall. It revealed the steps that led to the closed workroom. There, on

Low, scarcely audible, a whispered laugh came from concealed lips above the tiny light. The glare was on the

doorknob now. A blackgloved hand came into the sphere of illumination. The knob turned, but the door did

The hand produced a thin, blackened rod of steel. With this tiny instrument, The Shadow probed the

formidable lock which held the door closed. Slight clicks were audible; then the lock emitted a louder sound.

His light playing along the floor, The Shadow noted the position of the table on the rug. The light crept closer

to the floor. The black hand, coming in from darkness, touched the surface of the rug.

Again, The Shadow laughed. His sensitive touch had found an unseen gap in the dark design. It marked a

The light went out. The Shadow, striding through darkness, was returning over the route by which he had

come. The vague swish of his blacksurfaced cloak sounded by the window of the living room. His left hand

held an object over the surface of the tiny flashlight. The right hand pressed the switch.

The tiny torch glared out into the darkness of the night. No longer were its rays focused upon a limited

surface. They made a glow that could be seen from the street. The color of the light was red, due to the thin,

The light went out. The Shadow withdrew. A few seconds later, a slight sound occurred by the window, as

Harry Vincent carefully entered, to find himself in the Bartram living room. The young man looked around.

Like the glow of a crimson firefly, the moving light flickered along the path that Harry was to follow. At last

it stopped, in a small passage. It moved downward. Harry moved cautiously to the spot. He found a flight of

This, for the present, must be the destination set by The Shadow. Harry knew well why he had been brought

here. The Shadow had work beyond that barrier. He did not wish to be disturbed. It was Harry's duty to

Seated on the steps, Harry drew his automatic and kept it in readiness. He stared back toward the dark

If trouble came from that quarter, Harry could meet it. He knew that when the time arrived, the door ahead

would open, and either the red light or the sound of The Shadow's voice would bid him advance.

In the meantime, here within the Bartram mansion, Harry Vincent waited. Some mysterious work was afoot.

In this house, The Shadow had discovered something amiss. Did danger threaten Willard Saybrook? That

The Shadow's intuition had solved some strange problem. Master of deduction, the being who moved by

night had acted promptly upon hearing Harry Vincent's report. What had been obscure to Harry, was evident

CONSCIOUSNESS returned to Willard Saybrook. The young man gasped as he felt himself in a pall of total

darkness. He had a sinking feeling that he had gone blind. For a moment, a terrible dread seized his heart.

Recovering from the momentary fear, Saybrook felt the package of matches that was in his trousers pocket.

With fumbling, weary fingers, he scratched a match and let the flame flicker in his hand. Profound

Willard Saybrook was in a small, stonewalled chamber. Propped in a corner, he had scarcely room to move.

To stand or to lie down would be impossible. As he shook the burning match away from his scorching

fingers, Saybrook realized both the strangeness and the desperate condition of his situation.

Saybrook's breath came in short, hard gasps. He lighted another match, and held it above his head. He saw a

crevice at the top of the room. Throwing the match aside, he raised his body and pressed his weight upward.

The roof refused to budge. Willard Saybrook knew that he was entombed beneath an immovable slab.

There was no use to cry for help. None would come to this dark, hidden place. Even Saybrook's gasps were

hollow echoes. Desperation anger a medley of emotions flocked through the victim's brain. Saybrook

He recalled that he had been in the workroom off the passage when the menace that brought him here had

The servant was the one who had attacked him. This was the price he had paid for his desire to investigate.

Saybrook rubbed his throat, where Mahinda had gripped it. He remembered the clutch of those fingers.

Could they have been the fingers of death? Was it possible that he had discovered the truth?

No tonight they had failed to kill. Yet had they failed? What hope could come to Willard Saybrook here?

Buried beneath the Bartram mansion, in a hidden spot which only Mahinda could have known, there could be

Breathing seemed difficult. Willard Saybrook lighted another match. He noted that the flame began to die

The obvious conclusion came forcibly to mind. The air supply of this limited space was becoming useless.

In a mad fit of mingled agony and fury, Saybrook raised himself and beat against the relentless slab above. It

Well did Saybrook know that Mahinda had brought him here; that the Hindu had left him to die. A simple

way to dispose of a body of a victim, with no bloodshed or proof of murder. In this forgotten spot, escape was

The end was near. Gasping, Saybrook knew that his futile efforts had merely served to exhaust more oxygen.

Bravely, he resolved to die in quiet repose. Leaning back against the stone wall, Saybrook closed his eyes,

Breathing was difficult, and a strange ringing filled Saybrook's ears. Its sound increased; then came a new

and unexplainable noise. A peculiar scratching sounded from above. It changed to a dull grating.

In a last effort, Saybrook managed to rise and press against the slab above his head. To his joyous

HIS strength faded, and Willard Saybrook wilted upon the floor. His last grasps of breath came in long

attempts to gain fresh air. Then, a breeze puffed downward, and Saybrook panted in relief. The barrier had

A brilliant spot of light glowed into the room of stone. Willard Saybrook was revealed by the rays of a small

The young man tried to rise from the chamber of doom. His fingers clawed against the wall. Half up,

Saybrook slipped; but at that instant the light went out, and hands caught him beneath the arms. A powerful

grasp raised Saybrook upward. Despite his inability to aid, Saybrook was drawn clear of his prison.

The grasp released, and Saybrook sprawled upon a stone floor. The light reappeared and glimmered weirdly

Saybrook, staring, saw black hands at work. For an instant, he feared Mahinda; then he noted that the dark

The hands moved a heavy slab of stone. The object settled into place; once more forming the ceiling for the

chamber of doom. The fingers pressed a bar in place. The steel object accounted for the fact that Saybrook

The hands, however, were not yet finished with their task. The floor was made of small stone blocks, and a

portion of these formed an upper slab. This had been removed, and now it moved back where it belonged.

Saybrook could see that the entrance to the death chamber was covered with a cunningly contrived layer that

Saybrook could see nothing of the man beside him. He was too weak to even rise. He saw the light glimmer

in a wide sweep, and discerned that he was at the foot of a short flight of stone steps that terminated in a

Across from the steps, the short passage ended in a solid barrier which the light also disclosed. Saybrook

The young man had no time for further speculation. The light went out, and invisible hands raised him to his

feet. He felt himself being aided up the stone steps. The trapdoor was pressed upward.

With a final urge, the hands pushed Saybrook through the opening, and the young man crawled out upon the

So this was the secret of the locked room! Saybrook had a glimmering now. Josiah Bartram had evidently

built the special cellar as a place to store valuables. The chamber of doom would have been an ideal vault.

The lamp had been lighted, and the room was gloomily illuminated. Thus Saybrook saw and realized that

Mahinda, as Bartram's trusted servant, would logically have known of the strong room.

So it had been reserved as a place to store a troublesome intruder like himself!

Had Mahinda acted of his own volition? Saybrook wondered if the order had come from some one else.

If Josiah Bartram, when living, had told any one of this subterranean chamber, his confidant would have been

Challenging thoughts pervaded Saybrook's mind. He was free. He would go to Adams He would demand an

The reflections ended. Saybrook realized suddenly that he was not his own master. Still staring at the floor,

he saw the trapdoor close. Looking up, he found himself gazing into gleaming eyes that shone from a hidden

FOR the first time, Saybrook saw his rescuer a man garbed completely in black. He stared in amazement at

the flowing cloak, with its upturned collar that obscured the rescuer's face. Only the eyes showed and they

Willard Saybrook was in the presence of The Shadow. The superman who warred with crime had found the

secret trap; he had descended to the stone passage, and there he had discovered the hidden slab. He had

Safe, but dazed, Saybrook wondered who this rescuer could be. He saw the tall form of The Shadow cross the

A moment later, Saybrook was amazed to see the face of Harry Vincent bending over him.

"Vincent" Saybrook was dumbfounded by the presence of this man whom he had met but recently "you

"I was ordered here," responded Harry, in a quiet tone. "I am ready to help you if you will agree to my

"Therefore," Harry continued, "it is wise that you should still be considered dead for a short while. We are

going away from Holmsford, but we will be close at hand. We shall be ready for the time of retribution."

Saybrook nodded his agreement. He realized that Harry Vincent was under orders from the rescuer in black.

He could see the tall form of The Shadow, standing by the closed door. A sudden calmness came over

Willard Saybrook. The man who had drawn him from doom would not let murder go unavenged!

Harry Vincent helped Saybrook to his feet. The two approached the door, and it opened to hide the form of

The Shadow. The lamp went out as the two men made their exit. Saybrook was leaning upon Harry, and he

The rays of a tiny flashlight were ahead, guiding the pair toward the little door between the workroom and the

closed parlor. That door opened. Saybrook and Harry reached the outside air. Moving easily across the lawn,

As the coupe slid gently through the darkness, Willard Saybrook stared toward the Bartram mansion. He

heard Harry's quiet voice telling him that he need have no fear; that Grace Bartram would be safe there.

Supposedly buried alive, it was best that he should leave Holmsford until he could learn more. Harry

Vincent's connection with his rescuer convinced Saybrook that it was his part to obey instructions.

These men Vincent and the amazing personage in black had saved his life. He was with Harry now and

The Bartram home remained dark after the car had rolled away. But the place still harbored a mysterious

presence. The Shadow was back at the spot where he had gone to find the slab that covered Willard

His flashlight was playing upon the walls beneath the workroom. A soft laugh resounded there. The tall form

In the darkness of the workroom, The Shadow replaced all as he had found it. His metal instrument turned the

lock of the door. His hand closed the exit by which Harry and Saybrook had left.

Later, the window of the living room descended. It was silently fastened by hands that worked from outside.

The Shadow had left the house; but now his weird figure stalked the grounds. Up the slope it went through

Afterward, far from earshot of the Bartram premises, The Shadow laughed again. This time his tone was

IT was three nights after Willard Saybrook had been rescued from the chamber of doom. Doctor Felton

Shores, driving past the Bartram mansion, kept on his way. He had paid a visit at the house on the evening

following Saybrook's disappearance. He had heard Grace Bartram's expression of anxiety.

"Willard called from the office this morning," Grace had said. "He told Mahinda that he was called from

town for a while. I can't understand it, doctor. He left before breakfast, and never asked to talk to me when he

Doctor Shores had calmed the girl's worry. But he had not returned to the Bartram home. Grace had called

him to say that she had heard nothing from her fiance; and that she could no longer stand the gloom of the old

Grace Bartram had followed the physician's advice but only after a consultation with Hurley Adams. The

old lawyer had seemed perplexed over Saybrook's sudden departure. When he had heard the physician's

Adams had promised to inform Saybrook of her trip when he returned, and Grace Bartram, supplied with

Despite the fact that he had previously called for the secret purpose of conferring with Mahinda, Doctor

Shores now avoided the Bartram homestead. He glanced at the gloomy building, and sped rapidly along. He

reached the apartment house where he and his family lived, and alighted from his car.

Shores was noticeably pale as he rode upstairs in the automatic elevator. His fingers trembled as they

unlocked the door. The family was out tonight. Shores seemed troubled because he was alone.

The physician paced the floor of his living room, and finally entered the small office which he had always

kept in his apartment for special consultations. He seated himself at a desk, drew forth paper and pen, and

Thoughts failing, Shores went into a bedroom and hurriedly packed a large valise. He returned to his office,

carrying the bag with him. Again, he returned to the task of writing. Only the table lamp was lighted, and it

DESPERATION began to show on the physician's face. Shores sank back in his chair; then, with sudden

inspiration, he seized the telephone and called a number. A man's voice answered.

"He is not in, sir," came Unger's reply. "I expect him shortly. Who is calling?"

"Tell him I must see him immediately upon his return. This is Doctor Felton Shores."

When he completed the telephone call, Shores became more restless than before. He snatched up a newspaper

that lay upon a chair. Emblazoned in large headlines was the account of the mysterious slaying which had

taken both Julius Selwick and Howard Grady. With a hideous gasp, Shores flung the newspaper across the

Again, Shores seized the telephone and called the home of Hurley Adams. He recognized Unger's voice, and

"Tell Mr. Adams that I must see him," Shores persisted. "Try to communicate with him. Call places where he

Unger received the message, and Shores became less nervous. He walked to the outer door of the apartment,

and opened it. He looked out into the hall as though expecting to see Hurley Adams appear at any moment.

Then, with an expression of resignation, the physician returned to his office desk.

From a wall case, Shores produced a hypodermic syringe; also a small bottle of injection liquid. He poured

some of the substance from the bottle into the syringe. He put a label on each, marking the syringe A and the

With calm deliberation, Felton Shores picked up the pen and poised it above the sheet of paper. Slowly,

I, Felton Shores, herewith declare and detail my part in the series of deaths which have occurred in

The hypodermic syringe marked A is the one with which I injected the preparation in bottle B into the arm of

Josiah Bartram. The same preparation, used in another syringe, was injected into the neck of Ernest Risbey.

This compound, prepared according to my formula, will, in full quantity, produce instant death. This will

Since this syringe is the one which I actually used for Josiah Bartram's injection, I have placed within it

exactly the same quantity that I used when I gave Bartram his injection, in order that it will no longer be

I superintended the prompt burial of Bartram's body because delay would have caused complications. As

Bartram's physician, I began the chain of murders by foolishly acceding to the plan of

Doctor Shores ceased writing. His eyes were glued upon the table just beyond the spot where the paper lay.

There, like a huge, yellowish spider, a living hand was creeping forward, its fingers ghastly limbs!

The physician's own fingers seemed paralyzed. Motionless, they poised while the threatening claw crept

forward until its murderous talons had locked themselves upon the hand of Felton Shores. An ugly chuckle

caused the physician to glance upward and meet the gaze of eyes that were before him. Felton Shores

groaned. He was in the grip of a murderer clutched by a man whose insidious schemes he had furthered.

The physician was unable to resist. He crouched in his chair, and stared away from the face that leered before

"That will be sufficient, Doctor Shores," said the voice of the visitor. "You should have waited until I arrived

before you began your confession. So long as dead names are alone recorded, all is well. But when you are

"I'm going away," blurted Shores. "I couldn't go with all this horror on my mind. That is why I wanted to

"Yes! Yes! I felt sure you would be here. I I was afraid to come to see you after I realized the meaning of

all this crime. The death of Risbey made me realize that you had used the method which which was mine

and I was broken after that. I knew then that you had killed the others that when Selwick and Grady were

"I I did not know whether you would come here or not but if you did not come, I would have gone to you.

The voice chuckled harshly. The fingers of death still clutched the physician's hand.

"Wait!" was the command. "You have written enough. The fact that you would write one confession means

that you might write another. I entered through your open door, to find you. I offered you wealth, with no

participation in the crimes which I took upon myself. I did not expect you to lose your nerve."

"I did not understand," protested Shores. "It was not until after Risbey's death that I realized murder would be

wholesale. What have you done with Willard Saybrook? You could have had no cause to murder him!"

"Well, Doctor Shores, I expected you to weaken but not so soon. I let you learn the truth; I put you to the

test. Those visits with Mahinda were merely to check up on you. He was sworn to further every murder. I

An intense pallor crept over the physician's face. He was bordering upon a state of complete mental collapse.

He seemed to lack the power to resist the dominating methods of the man before him.

"Your confession, Doctor Shores," said the chuckling voice, "would be acceptable, if complete. Your plan

was evidently to deliver it or have it finished when called for. However, it is better in its present state. Its

THE second hand crept across the table. Doctor Shores stared aghast as he saw it pick up the hypodermic

syringe that bore the label. Fingers of death brought the needle point close to the physician's wrist. Wildly,

"This will suffice," came the chuckled tones. "The injection that you gave to Josiah Bartram, reserved for

yourself. Let us relish the thought of give and take. Why draw away, doctor? Did Josiah Bartram suffer

Shores was rising now, ready to put up a struggle, but his indecision proved costly. Before he could pull his

wrist from the fingers that clutched it; before he could bring his other arm into play, the fingers that held the

On his feet, Felton Shores staggered across the room. His visitor was there before him, blocking the door.

Shores cried out for aid; but the closing door prevented his voice from carrying far. The physician tottered.

His strength was leaving him. He sank to his knees, and began to clutch at his throat. In maddened

desperation, he cried out the only words that came to his mind those words that he had heard Josiah

The cry became a gargle. Other words that Shores sought to utter died in his throat. The physician's body

The fingers of death became active. They carefully polished the syringe, and placed it, still labeled, beside

Shores. They did not touch the incomplete confession. A gas jet extended from the wall. The fingers turned

Turning his back upon the still body of Doctor Felton Shores, the man who had done these deeds opened the

door of the office and stepped forth. He closed the door behind him. His footsteps shuffled out of the

The single lamp upon the office table showed the inert form of Doctor Felton Shores. It gleamed upon the

Those who might enter upon this ghastly scene would gain an obvious conclusion. Doctor Felton Shores,

despondently writing a confession of crime, had seized that fact to take his own life. He had turned on the gas

to assure his suicide; then, to make death positive, he had injected into his own body the same solution that he

There lay the scene sure evidence of suicide. The man who had weakened was silenced forever. Fingers of

IT was nearly midnight when Hurley Adams came up the street to his home. The old lawyer hurried into the

house and was met by Unger in the hallway. Adams was in a state of repressed excitement.

"Yes, sir," responded the attendant. "An important telephone call. Two calls, both from the same party.

"He wanted you to come to see him at once, sir. I did not know where to reach you."

"Felton Shores!" Adams pronounced the name in a low tone. "So Felton Shores called me, eh? I can't see him

Hurley Adams became more calm. He was not anxious to betray his excitement to Unger. He considered the

"I had forgotten. Doctor Shores advised Miss Bartram to go away for a rest, and I advised the same. Her

Unger went to the telephone and called the number. He waited patiently for a few minutes; then announced

The lawyer and his servant had been standing in the front hall. Both had been engrossed in conversation.

From the moment that Hurley Adams had come within close range of his home, he had been followed by a

person who moved with inaudible stealth. The Shadow had been waiting his arrival. At this moment, the

blackgarbed watcher was peering through the curtains of the nearest room. The Shadow had entered the

"There was another message, sir," remarked Unger. "A message from Mr. Thewkson, of the Holmsford City

"Yes, sir," responded Unger. "He said that the president had told him that you had inquired for copies of the

"I did," said Adams, calming his eagerness. "That's right. I had almost forgotten it. I asked him for them so

"Mr. Thewkson stopped here, sir," continued Unger. "He said that the president was away; but Mr. Thewkson

has the records in his possession. The cornerstone was opened this afternoon. They must not be made public

As Unger produced an envelope, Hurley Adams could scarcely resist snatching it from the man's hands. The

old lawyer barely managed to again cover his excitement. With the envelope in his grasp, he walked into the

The fire was already built, and while Unger followed orders, Hurley Adams fumbled with the envelope. The

fire was crackling as a sheaf of carboncopied papers came into the lawyer's hands. Going through them

HURLEY ADAMS could scarcely wait until after Unger had walked out of the room. The old lawyer seated

himself, oblivious to all but the papers now in his hand. He had no suspicion that eyes were watching him

from across the hall. He did not know that The Shadow had witnessed the delivery of that envelope; that The

There were three paragraphs on the first page. Adams nearly ripped the sheet in his haste to find the

beginning of the fourth paragraph. With the fire crackling at his side, the lawyer found the words he sought.

One of the finest tributes ever erected by a community was the Spanish War Monument built in 1905. It

stands well back from the entrance of the City Cemetery. Its location is secluded, but its setting is

appropriate, as it lauds the soldiers who died in their country's service. The monument is a magnificent

monolith. Most important is the copper plate upon its base, for this plate bears the inscription to those in

The words stared forth as Hurley Adams read them more slowly. A gleam of triumph appeared upon the

lawyer's face. Here, after more than twenty years, was the secret of the hiding place in which Malcolm

Warthrop and Stokes Bartlett had concealed the millions stolen during the transfer of funds at the City Bank.

The base of the Spanish War Monument! The monument had been erected a few years before the millions

had been taken. Its location was indeed secluded. In all probability, the base was hollow, and Warthrop had

The plate on the front of the base. It must be removable! Behind it, packed away, were the funds! Waiting

there, for some one to take them! Waiting for a group of conspirators of whom only one remained!

There was one grave danger that some one else had learned the secret of the paper in the cornerstone.

Hurley Adams had been anticipating that. Hence his request to the bank president that he might see copies of

Others if there were others would wait until the historical sketch was published in the newspapers. In the

The lawyer swung his arm, and the carbon papers fluttered into the blazing fire. Caught by tongues of flame,

these copied documents burned rapidly. There was no need for the records now. The old man knew and this

Hurley Adams stared at the fire. The glow showed strange emotions on his face. At times, the lawyer's

expression was crafty. At others, it became almost benign. What was passing in the mind behind that face?

The lawyer's hands, too, were expressive. They moved in grasping fashion; then opened and lay still, with

When Unger entered the room, the lawyer had become thoroughly composed. His face was almost wistful.

He seemed very tired and incapable of great effort. He was a man who had made a strange decision. The

"Unger," said Adams, "I am going away for a while. I shall not need you after tomorrow afternoon. You

may leave when I go out to dinner tomorrow. I shall pay you during my absence in fact, I shall pay you in

"Thank you, sir," said Unger. "By the way, sir, shall I call Doctor Shores once more?"

A troubled look flitted over the lawyer's face. He considered for a moment; then nodded.

"I can't understand it, sir," he said. "Doctor Shores was very anxious to see you. He said that he would be

"I cannot see him tonight," declared the lawyer. "I am going to bed, Unger. Wake me at the usual hour."

With millions in his grasp, Hurley Adams had resolved to wait. Why not? Those funds had lain in one spot

for more than twenty years. They could remain another night. No one else could learn their resting place for a

few days to come if there were others who knew the secret whereby the millions could be found!

THE SHADOW had divined the lawyer's decision; but The Shadow had not seen the paper which Adams had

read! That paper had been destroyed, unseen by eyes other than the lawyer's! When the old man had gone

No visible sign marked The Shadow's passage through the streets of Holmsford. When the blackclad

phantom appeared, he stood before the door of the apartment in which Doctor Felton Shores resided. Hurley

Adams had not considered it important to come here. The Shadow had come in his place!

The door was open. The Shadow entered and reached the closed door of the office. His hand opened the door.

A flood of gas surged forth. The Shadow drew the folds of the cloak across his face. Entering, he stood above

The hypodermic glimmered on the floor beside the dead physician. The confession lay upon the table. The

hand of The Shadow grasped the paper and carried it away. In less than a minute of quick observation, with

breath held in the gasfilled room, The Shadow had made a quick survey of the scene.

The door closed as The Shadow left. In the outer room The Shadow read the confession word by word. Its

Suicide might seem obvious; but not to The Shadow. He had seen the sign of crime within that room; had

Two ways of suicide; by injection and by gas. Again, The Shadow laughed. He knew the reason why both

methods had been employed. The confession in his blackgloved hand ended just before Doctor Felton

Shores had inscribed a name. That, to The Shadow, was the sign of crime. For he could supply the name that

People would be here shortly. They would find the body of the dead physician, but not the incomplete

confession. They would not magnify the guilt of Doctor Felton Shores. His hands were not the ones that bore

The murderer would think that some friend of the physician had kept the confession from the public. Even

But The Shadow knew the truth. Fingers of death had taken their final victim. There would be no more!

LATE the next night, a lone figure crept through the secluded gates of the City Cemetery. This man, huddled

and furtive, was barely visible in the dim light of the cloudy night. He passed along the edge of the roadway

that came through the gates, slinking like a ghoul through this city of the dead.

Directly ahead, the Spanish War Monument raised its dim shaft above the ground. This was the objective that

the huddled man was seeking. The prowler reached the base of the monolith and stood there, listening.

Were his ears deceiving him, or did he hear a sound close by? The man paused in alarm. No further sound

occurred. The huddled stranger grew more bold. A flashlight glimmered in his hand as he turned its rays upon

Four deepset screws held the plate in place. The prowler was prepared for that. He carefully and

methodically removed the screws with a screw driver, and laid them, one by one, beneath the light.

The plate failed to come away. The man fumbled with it, and his breath came in long gulps as he worked. At

length, a catch yielded to his pressure. The plate came away, to show an iron inset.

A thief would only have taken the copper plate; but this man had further designs. Furtively, he worked with

the screw driver until he had removed the iron covering. It fell from his grasp, and clanged upon the stone

Swinging, the man faced the roadway, fearing that some one might have been close enough to hear. His

nerves were active, and he remained intent. He dared not look into the place that he had opened, until he was

A slight sound caught his ear. Sensing the direction from which it had come, the man turned his flashlight

His fears were realized as the rays revealed two figures standing near. Then came an answering click. The

The discovered men had answered with a powerful illumination that revealed the huddled form at the base of

There, cringing in the glare, was Hurley Adams. The old lawyer was the intruder who had entered to visit the

base of the monument. The hole which he had opened gaped black behind him. His thoughts, now, were of

the men who had caught him in his act those who had come here to watch him uncover the hidden millions!

WHILE one man held the powerful lantern, the other leaped forward with a cry of rage, only to be grasped

and withheld by his companion. The old lawyer, gasping piteously, saw above him the face of Willard

A voice spoke from behind the lantern. Harry Vincent was restraining his companion.

"Easy, Saybrook!" was his warning. "Remember our agreement! We only came here to watch the man who

Saybrook nodded. He stood and glowered at the old lawyer. He could not desist from uttering the words that

"Murderer!" accused Saybrook. "So that was your game! To keep the millions for yourself! You told me

enough truth to make me keep silence. You told Mahinda to put me out of the way. You killed Doctor Shores

"No! No!" bleated Adams. "I did not! When I learned that Shores was dead, today, I thought that he had

committed suicide. I thought that he had done those crimes; then weakened for fear of discovery! I thought

that my life had been spared. I came here not to rob but to learn if the wealth were really here."

"Hear him out," said Harry quietly. "Remember, the orders are not to molest whoever comes."

Tonight, Harry Vincent had brought him here, telling him that this was the spot where the seekers for wealth

would come. How had Harry known? Saybrook wondered. He knew, however, that Harry followed the orders

"I am innocent," protested Adams. "I told you everything Saybrook. These crimes have maddened me. Tell

The lawyer suddenly realized that the answer lay behind him. He half rose and stared into the cavity beneath

"Gone! Gone!" There was despair in the old man's voice. "Gone! When I had resolved to do right; to discover

the stolen wealth; to make known its hiding place! The others all have died. I would be betraying no one but

Willard Saybrook was amazed. He could tell from the old man's tone that Hurley Adams was sincere. He

Adams, forgetful of all else, was groping through the space where he had hoped to find the hidden millions.

A large opening, it was sufficient in size to have held the contents of a vault. The old man's hands found a flat

While Harry Vincent and Willard Saybrook watched him, the old man slowly brought the envelope into the

He followed with the action. A folded note was the result. Hurley Adams spread it and read its written lines.

A strange change came over the old attorney. First he registered amazement; then dread; at last, his face took

"My obligation is not yet ended. You must understand my position. However mistaken I may have been, I

"One moment," interrupted Harry, in a quiet tone. "We, too, have a duty, Adams. Our instructions are to

"You will let me fulfill my obligation?" questioned Adams. "No matter how strange a one it may be?"

"I trust you, Saybrook," said Adams quietly. "You are the only man to whom I revealed the secret which I

"Had I come here unobserved," Adams announced, "I would surely have abided by the instructions in this

envelope. The man whose writing I have read knows well that I never would go against my word. But since

you discovered me, there is no other way. Come with me, gentlemen. I ask only that you do as I request when

Together, the three men replaced the plates that hid the opening in the monument. Hurley Adams was silent.

He had learned an amazing fact. Willard Saybrook was puzzled. He no longer doubted Adams. He wondered

what the old man had learned. Harry Vincent knew only that, somehow, The Shadow had found this place.

He was sure that the contents of that note were known to The Shadow. For The Shadow had ordered him to

Their short work finished, the trio walked from the cemetery. Hurley Adams had come on foot. He joined

"My instructions," said Harry quietly, "are to take you where you wish to go. What is your destination?"

THE Bartram mansion seemed deserted when the coupe pulled up on the street before it. Not a light gleamed

Hurley Adams was unperturbed. He led the way up the walk, and turned the knob of the front door. The door

Familiar with the place, Adams needed no light. He went directly to the back of the hall, turned into the

passage, and stopped at the top of the little steps that led to the old workroom.

"You will wait here," he suggested. "I am to enter alone. Stay in the darkness. I shall leave the door ajar. I

Both Harry and Saybrook expressed their agreement. Hurley Adams went down the steps. He opened the

True to his word, the lawyer left the door ajar. The room within was lighted, and those outside could see the

old lawyer as he walked to the table, which was now set at the side of the room.

There was a box on the table. It bore an electric push button. Hurley Adams pressed three times. He went to a

Minutes drifted by. Harry Vincent watched with unconcern. Willard Saybrook was tense.

At last there came an answer to the strange summons. The trapdoor opened in the floor. A stooped form

emerged and turned to close the trap behind him. The man stood erect and swung to face Hurley Adams.

Willard Saybrook barely repressed a cry of horrified amazement as he clutched Harry Vincent's arm. There,

in the center of the room, stood the living form of a man who had been buried as dead. Josiah Bartram, in the

With yellowish skin, longfingered hands and face that resembled parchment, the old contractor had the

appearance of a resurrected corpse. His face gleamed with an evil smile of insidious triumph as it turned

"YOU are not surprised to see me, Hurley?" questioned the old contractor, in a crackling voice.

"Not since I received your message," responded Adams. "The situation began to lighten then."

"You must have been surprised when you read it," leered Bartram. "Telling you to come to this room; to ring

the bell for me. Telling you that, dead or alive, I would respond to your summons."

"In my grave!" crackled Bartram. "In a very pleasant grave. A mausoleum makes excellent sleeping quarters,

Hurley. Particularly when one has a servant so capable and so faithful as Mahinda. He is in my abode at

present. I had not expected you tonight; nevertheless, I had prepared for your visit."

"I found the hiding place before the historical sketch was made public," declared Adams. "Somehow, Josiah,

I had no fear of coming here. Once I knew the truth, I could see no cause for worry on my part."

"A bit worried, though, because I have turned murderer? Well, Hurley, you are still my attorney. One can

"In my bedroom. Namely, in the mausoleum. Ah, Hurley, I planned well. I nearly planned to kill you, but I

desisted. Why? Because I do not fear one man alone; because I knew how you would act; because I knew that

you wanted no share of the millions; and, finally, because I wanted one person to remain and learn the

Hurley Adams settled back in his chair. He looked at Josiah Bartram in wonderment as the selfadmitted

"Four million and a half is the total, Hurley," announced Josiah Bartram. "Better for one than for six. I was

ready for that when they announced that the bank building was to be torn down. But I had thought of it

"How fine it would be, I thought, if one eliminated five! To do that would mean murder for none had died

during twentyodd years. But I saw the danger. As men were killed one by one, the others would suspect.

"The further it went, the more the suspicion would narrow down. Then came my inspiration. Suppose that

"So I planned. I built my mausoleum. It is connected by an underground passage to a secret vault beneath this

room. The passage was made as a pipe line long before the mausoleum. Its existence was forgotten.

"I had to find a way to die. I found it through Doctor Felton Shores. I told him that I wanted to die yet live.

Shores thought I wanted to watch the management of my estate. He prepared a poison first, but decided it was

too virulent. He made a solution for hypodermic injection. Too much would kill the right quantity would

"We arranged it so that I would supposedly die and be quickly buried after my illness. Between you and

Shores you following the terms of my will, and Shores superintending my burial the scheme worked to

"I took it upon myself to kill the others. How easy, and what pleasant occupation! I knew their habits, their

"On special nights I stole from my tomb through this room, and out the side exit of the house. A dead man

Josiah Bartram paused to cackle his fiendish laugh. Then, with relish, he resumed his account.

"Pettigrew was the first. I used some of the poison that Doctor Shores had discarded. Maurice Pettigrew died.

Arthur Preston came next. His curio room was an ideal place for murder. I planned that well, with his own

weapon. A better system than the one I used with Pettigrew, in whose home I planted evidence that he had

"When I went to Ernest Risbey's home, I heard him say that he was going to the Elite Hotel. Muffled, I went

there and found his car. I waited in it and gave him a hypodermic Shores had given me a syringe and the

"Julius Selwick was more difficult. I shot him dead when I saw the opportunity, and I was forced to kill Chief

Detective Grady also. There, Hurley, was the way it worked. You, alone, I spared, for the reasons I have

Josiah Bartram's face showed its elation as the old man paused in his discourse. Hurley Adams was filled

with horror as he listened to the fiendish details of these crimes. But the lawyer refrained from comment.

"There were problems, Hurley," continued Bartram, in a reflective tone. "The most pressing one was Doctor

Shores. I had paid him well to help me. He had promise of more money. He had acted illegally when he

"I arranged to have him come here to see me nearly every night. Mahinda gave him the signal when he paid

his calls. Shores and I talked in this room. I feigned weakness, and thus dispelled any belief that he might be

"But I made mistakes. Using that poison on Pettigrew was a bad start. Even then, Shores did not suspect. But

when I jabbed Risbey with the hypodermic, he knew. He realized then that I was killing regularly and with

method. He protested about it, the night that I slew Selwick and Grady. I managed to keep him doubtful; but

"When he failed to come back; when Mahinda told me he had been hearing him advise Grace by telephone, I

knew that there was but one course; to deal with Felton Shores as I had dealt with the others.

"I surprised him writing his confession. It was so worded that it did no harm until he was about to insert my

name as a living man. I stopped him then and killed him. He had a loaded hypodermic, Hurley; but it

contained a sample of the quantity that produced only temporary lifelessness not the complete injection that

"I jabbed him with his needle, then turned on the gas to let death follow. That, Hurley, completed my

"I did not know," observed Adams, in a matteroffact tone, "that Shores left a confession."

"He did," grinned Josiah Bartram, "but some one of his family probably hid it. In its incomplete form, it was

not at all complimentary to Doctor Shores. He felt that he was almost a murderer himself, because he had

"The money?" Bartram's face took on a gloating leer of triumph. "Ah, Hurley, you will admire that. I knew

where the money was before I began these crimes! I had it stored in my hidden vault before I began my

"Yes," said Bartram. "When I knew that the bank building was about to be torn down; when I had already

decided upon my murderous career, I began to wonder if the money was really hidden in Holmsford. I tried to

"Somewhere in Holmsford. That hiding spot must have been chosen carefully by Warthrop. Secluded, so the

wealth could be easily taken there, yet near at hand. Secluded, also, so it could have been previously arranged

and so that the money could be easily regained. A large enough place to hide millions, a permanent place that

would not be accidentally uncovered; and, last of all, a place that would be of some importance for it was

"I chose the Spanish War Monument as the most likely spot. Mahinda and I went there. We loosened the

plate. We found the cavity. We removed the millions at night. I left that message for you.

"Perhaps you ask why I continued with my plan? I liked it too well to desist; moreover, I feared the

consequences when the others came together. Had I been living quietly in Holmsford, pretending to be one of

the disappointed conspirators, they might have detected me as the one who had taken all.

"No; they were better gone. As for me, I shall soon leave Holmsford. A mausoleum will remain in my

JOSIAH BARTRAM paused to chuckle. Harry Vincent, in the hallway, understood now, the part that The

Shadow had played. He, like Josiah Bartram, had deduced the hiding spot of the millions; but where Bartram

had mulled over the matter for years, The Shadow had spotted the monument as soon as he had come to

Holmsford. Once conversant with the secret of the cornerstone, The Shadow must have gone there only to

It was evident that The Shadow knew all about Josiah Bartram's crimes. For The Shadow must have found

the letter to Hurley Adams! Yes, The Shadow had surely opened that letter, resealed it, and left it beneath the

Fully, Harry realized, The Shadow had suspected the truth early in his investigation of these crimes. Where

was The Shadow now? What would be the denouement of the strange situation that now existed?

The answer came more quickly than Harry had anticipated. Josiah Bartram, gloating, was about to bring on a

"A mausoleum," the murderer was repeating. "Not an empty one, however. One other man died, Hurley a

troublemaker whom I let Mahinda handle. Willard Saybrook, my niece's fiance, entered here. Mahinda

"Before I leave, I shall have Mahinda transfer his body to the mausoleum. I am going far away, Hurley,

leaving for a foreign clime as Malcolm Warthrop planned to leave, more than twenty years ago. But Mahinda

and I shall be safe and very wealthy while Warthrop and his secretary were taking long chances with less

"Yes, my mausoleum will contain a body; that of Willard Saybrook. He lies dead beneath our feet. He can

never harm me. Not unless" Bartram smiled fiendishly "he, like myself, has the power of rising from his

The words were too much for Willard Saybrook. With a cry of anger, the young man broke away from Harry

A gleam of amazed dread swept over the murderer's face. He who had risen from the grave was confronted

WITH mad frenzy, Willard Saybrook leaped past Hurley Adams and flung himself upon Josiah Bartram. The

murderer was too astounded to meet the attack in time. Vainly, he tried to draw a revolver from his pocket as

his young antagonist threw him toward the wall. Saybrook clutched Bartram's wrist. Fingers of death had no

opportunity now. Hurley Adams was on his feet. Harry Vincent was at the door. Neither tried to stop the

"Fingers of death'" screamed Saybrook. "Those were your words when you pretended to die. Words that

would make people think you were a murderer's victim, too. Fingers of death! Use them now! They belong to

With one hand clutching Bartram's wrist, Saybrook used his other fist to grapple the old man's throat.

Bartram's face was purple. His free hand clawed helplessly in the air. The murderer was caught by the victim

Fortune suddenly came to Josiah Bartram's rescue. Harry Vincent cried a warning as he saw the floor open.

Up through the trapdoor came the dark face of Mahinda! Drawing his automatic, Harry leaped toward the

Hindu. He had not reckoned with Mahinda's amazing speed. The Hindu leaped from the steps and caught

Harry before The Shadow's agent had leveled his gun. With a twist, Mahinda sent Harry's automatic to the

With one arm flung about his adversary, Mahinda freed his other hand, and drew a wickedlooking knife.

Long, sharppointed, it was almost a short sword, resembling a Malayan kris. As the blade raised in the air,

Willard Saybrook caught its gleam. Leaping away from the helpless form of Josiah Bartram, Saybrook sprang

The lawyer responded. With this fight in progress, he had ended all allegiance to the murderer. He sought to

The three allies were dealing with fiends. Mahinda, powerful and swift, was more than a match for Harry

Vincent and Willard Saybrook. He rolled upon the floor with them, regained his knife, and brandished the

At the same moment, Josiah Bartram, with remarkable agility, caught Hurley Adams by the throat, and sent

the lawyer spinning against the table in the corner. The murderer crawled to regain his gun.

With Harry Vincent flattened on the floor, Mahinda drove his knife toward Willard Saybrook. He expected to

The report of a huge automatic cannonaded from the doorway. There stood The Shadow. The blackclad

master had been watching from the darkness. His inflexible eyes gleamed steadily as his firm hand directed a

SAYBROOK heard the terrific roar. The door was behind his back; he could not see the person who had fired

it. The bullet whistled within two inches of Saybrook's head, in its course toward Mahinda's body.

The Hindu's forward lunge became a sidewise topple. The long blade missed Saybrook and the knife, by a

freakish twist, buried its point deep in the floor as it shot from Mahinda's hand.

Josiah Bartram had regained his revolver. Hurley Adams, in an effort to stop the murderer, flung himself

forward. No action could have been more damaging. Bartram, with prodigious strength in his left arm,

gripped Adams and held his body as a shield, while with his right hand, he blazed swift shots toward the

The Shadow could not respond without shooting Adams. Moreover, the blackgarbed fighter had just time to

Bartram's shots were well aimed, but they reached the spot where The Shadow had been a split second after

With evil chortle, Josiah Bartram saw new opportunity to kill. He thought that The Shadow had fled; but he

still gripped Hurley Adams as his protection. Extending his arm, he aimed at Willard Saybrook.

Both Saybrook and Harry Vincent would be easy prey. They could reach no weapons in time to save

themselves. The death finger was on the trigger, when a new shot roared from the corner of the doorway.

But the fiend was not yet through. Like a flash, he sprawled upon the floor with Hurley Adams grappling

The action was futile. As Bartram's arm doubled beneath his body, The Shadow fired again and struck an

unprotected shoulder. Hurley Adams fell free, and Harry Vincent, now grasping his automatic, delivered

Coughing upon the floor, with lips flecked with foam, Josiah Bartram had reached the end of his murderous

"Josiah Bartram!" The words came in a weird whisper. "I learned the part that you were playing early in your

run of crime. You managed to kill Ernest Risbey in spite of my agent's presence. I had planned to protect that

"Julius Selwick signed his own death warrant when he refused to hear my terms. I was forced to leave him to

"Had Felton Shores used discretion, he would be alive today. I left him to protect himself. He failed to do

so. The ones who have died were men whose hands were not clean. I have protected those who did no harm.

"It was I who rescued Willard Saybrook from his tomb. I watched Hurley Adams because I knew that he

sought to make amends. You wanted wealth all for yourself. You found it. You pretended death, and

The Shadow's presaging tones ended in a low, eerie laugh that reverberated strangely through that narrow

room. As the hideous echoes threw back a ghoulish, dwindling cry, Josiah Bartram flattened on the floor

EVER since his arrival in Holmsford, The Shadow had trailed the murderous course laid by fingers of death.

His keen deduction had enabled him to judge men by their worth. He had known that Hurley Adams was no

murderer. He had picked Julius Selwick as a man who sought safety through protection. He had seen in

Felton Shores nothing more than a man who would stoop to the folly of minor crime not murder.

He had known that the importance of the secret shared by six had protected the secret itself. One of those

conspirators was surely the man of murder. If no living man could have been the one, the only course was to

The Shadow had waited for the culmination of Josiah Bartram's scheme. As Harry Vincent had supposed,

The Shadow had learned the secret of the monument by sheer deduction. Knowing the final scene that Josiah

Bartram had planned for his amazing drama, The Shadow had arrived to draw the curtain.

Harry Vincent, at a signal from The Shadow, departed from this room, where death had struck. He was

needed no longer. Hurley Adams and Willard Saybrook could do the rest. The trapdoor lay below. Beyond it

was a barrier; but that meant nothing now, since these men knew that there was a tunnel leading to the

The stolen wealth that had been kept for twenty years would now be restored. Josiah Bartram had come from

his chosen grave. The millions would come from there, also. Hurley Adams looked at Willard Saybrook. The

"Bartram takes the blame," announced Saybrook. "Forget the past. We have uncovered Bartram's crime. He

Hurley Adams thankfully mumbled his understanding. The lawyer's burden of worry was ended. The dread of

twenty years his vow never to betray those who had conspired no longer held him, now that none

"Come," said Saybrook. "We will call the police. Let them uncover the way to the mausoleum. It is obvious

THE two left the ghastly room of death. But the spot did not long remain devoid of human presence. A tall,

blackcloaked figure entered after Saybrook and Adams had gone. The Shadow, invincible, stood silent and

His sparkling eyes gleamed upon the bodies on the floor. Mahinda had served his master, even though it had

meant murder; nevertheless, the Hindu had deserved the death which he received. Josiah Bartram, the

superfiend, was the one whom death should have conquered long ago. Better far that his pretended death had

That could not be rectified. The man had met the doom that belonged to him. Another master mind of crime

Spread crazily upon the floor, Josiah Bartram lay with extended arms. His clawlike hands were out before

They were dead fingers now. Their work of murder was ended. Never again would they move to slay.

The Shadow's laugh came as a weird epitaph. It sounded loud and terrible amid that silent room. It was a

The echoes of that laugh were heard by Hurley Adams and Willard Saybrook as they returned to the room

where the bodies lay. The two men paused beyond the passage, waiting for the heartstopping sound to end

A grim, whispered echo seemed to persist even after they had come to the doorway of the room. Yet they saw

no living presence there. The Shadow had departed through the door which had been Josiah Bartram's secret.

A fleeting blot against the white wall of the mausoleum. That alone, marked the passage of The Shadow. He

had been there before, knowing that the silent building must be the abode of Josiah Bartram; knowing that a

The murderer had come forth to gloat in triumph to meet Hurley Adams and ridicule the lawyer whose code