DEAD MEN LIVE..............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. A MAN WITH A MESSAGE ...........................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. A STRANGE DISCOVERY...........................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. A VISITOR RETURNS.................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. MANN ASSEMBLES DATA ......................................................................................15

CHAPTER V. THE SHADOW BEGINS ..............................................................................................18

CHAPTER VI. TWO MEN PLOT........................................................................................................21

CHAPTER VII. THE SHADOW'S CHOICE ........................................................................................26

CHAPTER VIII. ORLINOV'S CASTLE..............................................................................................32

CHAPTER IX. CLIFF SENDS A MESSAGE ......................................................................................36

CHAPTER X. THE SHADOW'S PLAN ...............................................................................................41

CHAPTER XI. ORLINOV SPEAKS FACTS .......................................................................................44

CHAPTER XII. TREMONT'S VISITOR ..............................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIII. THE SHADOW'S FLIGHT .......................................................................................53

CHAPTER XIV. THE SHADOW'S FIGHT.........................................................................................57

CHAPTER XV. AFTER MIDNIGHT ...................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XVI. A PERFECT SCHEME .............................................................................................69

CHAPTER XVII. THE PLAN WORKS...............................................................................................75

CHAPTER XVIII. ORLINOV'S THREAT ...........................................................................................79

CHAPTER XIX. THE MAN FROM OUTSIDE ...................................................................................84

CHAPTER XX. THE MAN FROM INSIDE ........................................................................................88

CHAPTER XXI. CLIFF FINDS A CHANCE......................................................................................92

CHAPTER XXII. THE SHADOW SPEAKS ........................................................................................94

CHAPTER XXIII. THE ATTACK ........................................................................................................96

THE glaring headlight of the big locomotive came to a slow stop as the West Shore Express pulled into the

Weehawken Terminal. A station attendant pulled open the exit gate. Dim figures of alighting passengers

appeared upon the platform and became an advancing throng. The attendant idly watched the approaching

Two men were standing a short distance from the gate. Away from the glimmer of the locomotive headlight,

they were obscure and unnoticed. Like the attendant, they were watching the people coming down the

"He'll be here in half a minute, Jake," said one in an undertone. "We've got to spot him the second he shows

The two men waited. Although they were tense, neither one appeared excited. This was not surprising.

Watching for a passenger coming from a train was no great task for "Biff" Towley and his fellow watcher,

Jake Bosch. For Biff Towley was one of the craftiest mobsmen in all New York, and his companion was his

A tall, youthful man came through the gate with the last of the passengers leaving the Express. Biff Towley

Both men seemed to be disinterested bystanders as the tall passenger glanced nervously in their direction. But

as the young man continued toward the ferry, the two selfeffacing gangsters swung along behind him.

"It's Louis Steffan, all right," whispered Biff Towley. "Separate when we reach the boat. You stay ahead of

In the ferryboat, Louis Steffan continued through to the front deck. There, he leaned against the rail and

He fumbled in his pocket and drew forth a cigarette. He lighted it with trembling hand. As he raised the

match toward his face, Steffan did not notice another man who leaned upon the rail close beside him. It was

THE gangster threw a sidelong glance toward Steffan. He could see the pallor of the young man's face; the

twitching of his lips, the blinking of his eyelids. Then the match dropped over the rail and Steffan's face

Jake Bosch drew back as Louis Steffan nervously threw the cigarette into the river and started toward the

front gate of the ferry. As Steffan paused there, Jake turned and sauntered idly into the cabin where he stood

"He ought to," came the reply, with an easy, ugly laugh. "Keep ahead of him on the other side. I'm sticking

The water was churning as the ferry approached the slip on the New York side. The myriad lights of

When the gate was opened, Louis Steffan was one of the first to leave. He saw nothing suspicious in the form

of Jake Bosch, walking swiftly ahead. Nor did he notice the idling shape of Biff Towley, who was strolling

Louis Steffan stopped at a row of phone booths. He fumbled nervously through the pages of the Manhattan

directory. Biff Towley, a few feet away, smiled grimly. He stepped into one of the telephone booths and held

Louis Steffan's finger was checking a name. He had found what he desired the telephone number of Clark

As he approached, Towley's nickel clicked and the gangster dialed Barmont 49356.

A strange coincident! That was the very number that Steffan had noted in the book.

Biff Towley was talking in a low, quiet voice when Louis Steffan began to dial. Listening at the receiver,

Steffan heard the clangclang of the busy signal. He hung up the telephone and waited.

Biff Towley was still talking when Steffan dialed again. Once more, he caught the busy signal.

Louis Steffan stepped from his phone booth and glanced nervously at his watch. He walked hurriedly away.

Biff Towley, seeing him through the window of the booth, quietly ended his conversation and stepped from

the compartment. He saw Steffan's tall form going through the door to a taxi stand. When Biff reached the

spot, two cabs were drawing away. Neither Louis Steffan nor Jake Bosch were in sight.

LOUIS STEFFAN had taken the first cab he had seen at the stand. He had given the address of Clark

Murdock which he had noted in the phone book. Now riding uptown, the young man was highly perturbed.

He had come to New York with a definite purpose to communicate with Clark Murdock. Until he had

reached the Manhattan ferry terminal, he had gained no opportunity. That phone call with the busy signal,

had been a waste of time. Steffan was waiting no longer. He was going directly to the man who he wished to

As the cab stopped at a traffic light, Steffan pulled a notebook from his coat pocket. He scanned the pages of

The recollection of the risk he had run to get them made him shudder. He pictured himself listening at the

door of the room where two men had been talking; and to Steffan's blinking eyes came a vivid portrait of one

Ivan Orlinov! The name was inscribed among the notes. Steffan shut his eyes as the cab jerked forward. In

Steffan clenched his fists. Ivan Orlinov was everywhere, it seemed! He opened his eyes and blinked at the

He laughed a hoarse, nervous laugh. He was safe, here, with all these lights. Safe in New York, with Orlinov

miles away. He tried to feel at ease and gradually his qualms ended. Reason told him that there was no danger

for the present. The immediate task was to deliver his message to Clark Murdock.

Steffan glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes after nine. There was menace here in New York but it

threatened another man. Steffan alone could thwart it for he, alone, knew the secret.

He was sure that nothing could happen until ten o'clock. Fifty minutes yet and now the cab was swerving

from the avenue. One block two blocks the taxi stopped in the center of the third. Steffan was ready with

Thrusting his notebook in his pocket, the young man alighted and stood upon the sidewalk while the cab

It was a somber neighborhood. The night was gloomy with overcasting clouds, and in this obscure part of

Manhattan, the old buildings seemed like tombs. The number of this old house reflected by the light behind

STEFFAN glanced up and down the street before he went toward the steps. He saw a car parked half a block

away. Its lights were off and he gave it no second thought. Impulsively, he turned to approach the steps. As

An exclamation froze on Steffan's lips. The stranger who had closed upon him was a short, stocky man; and

in his hand was the glimmer of steel. The muzzle of a revolver pressed against Louis Steffan's ribs.

"Move along," came a harsh, cold voice. "One peep out of you and you get the works. Savvy?"

Trembling, Louis Steffan allowed himself to be forced along the street away from the house he had sought

away from the one place that offered safety. The parked car was moving slowly toward him. Shivering,

with the pressure of the gun against his back, the young man faltered forward at his captor's bidding.

The lowlying car met them, twenty yards from the house. It was a sedan and the rear door opened as the

Within the sedan, Louis Steffan saw the vague form of another enemy. There, as before, he caught the

A nudge from his captor and Steffan stepped into the car. He huddled back upon the cushions, his hands

raised piteously as his frightened, staring eyes saw the second revolver covering him.

The first captor closed the door. The car pulled away. Louis Steffan was going for a ride.

JAKE BOSCH laughed as he saw the sedan disappear around the nearest corner. He gave his revolver a twirl

He strolled along the street to the corner in the opposite direction. There, he walked calmly past a uniformed

policeman and turned down the avenue. He reached a drug store on the next corner and entered a phone

"O.K., Biff," said Jake, tersely. "The boys were waiting. They've gone away with a passenger."

"I was near there first," replied Jake. "Made good time in my cab. Got out a block away. Walked down to the

Leaving the drug store, Jake Bosch returned along the block past Clark Murdock's home. He grinned as he

passed the house where he had made his capture. He continued on at a leisurely gait. His job was finished.

Hardened underling of a calloused gang leader, it was Jake Bosch's duty to obey orders, without knowing

Biff Towley had stationed mobsmen in the car near Murdock's home and had taken Jake with him to

Jake had done other jobs like this one. He was the skilled pilot who steered victims to waiting automobiles.

Where they went or what happened to them was a matter of no concern to Jake Bosch.

He felt no interest or sympathy for Louis Steffan. That young man was merely another on the list of those

So Jake forgot the entire matter as he headed for his favorite nightclub, a haunt where bright lights and gaudy

women lured. He did not realize that tonight he had played a vital part in the schemes of men craftier than

For Louis Steffan had brought a singular message to New York. Had he delivered it, he might have frustrated

the progress of strange and incredible crime. But he had failed he who alone had gained an inkling of a

Up in the Bronx, the death car was stopped beside a deserted lot. A muffled shot a dying gasp and all was

over. The door opened and the body of Louis Steffan tumbled from the sedan. The car traveled on its way.

Then from the lowered window fluttered fragments of paper, which scattered widely in the breeze as the car

swept homeward toward Manhattan. Louis Steffan's shorthand notes were meeting with destruction.

The man with the message was dead and his message was gone forever. To the police, it would be another

gangland killing. By the time that Louis Steffan's body was found and his empty pockets searched, the

The speaker was a stoopshouldered, grayhaired man of fifty years. He was garbed in a white gown. He

was addressing a group of keen, intelligentlooking men who were seated in a little living room.

This man, to whom the others gave close and respectful attention, was Clark Murdock, whose chemical

The men arose and followed the chemist into his laboratory. It was the rear room on the second floor of

Murdock's old house. He had chosen this secluded spot, away from the main arteries of Manhattan, that he

Murdock's laboratory was a remarkable place. It contained shelves of bottles, long tables strewn with

appliances and pieces of oddly assorted machinery. His guests looked about them with interest, and the

These men had come to see a practical demonstration of his new experiments in atomic disintegration. Clark

Murdock had made some remarkable discoveries, but he realized that few of his visitors would understand

Motioning the men to chairs, Murdock gazed about him with the air of an instructor about to address a class.

He waited until silence had been obtained; then stared at his solemnfaced assistant in the corner.

"Yes, sir," said the man, with a slight bow. "Do you wish me to wait until the truckmen come, sir?"

"That's right," declared Murdock, with a nod. "They were to return for that box they brought here by mistake.

The solemn assistant left the laboratory and Murdock again smiled at his guests.

"Stevens is a good assistant, gentlemen," he said, quietly. "He knows nothing. That is much better than

The others laughed at the chemist's witticism. Murdock looked about the group. He noted two men who

One was Doctor Gerald Savette, a keenvisaged man who stood high in his profession. The other was

Lamont Cranston, a wealthy millionaire, who was a likely investor in promising inventions.

CLARK MURDOCK, despite his querulous disposition, had an eye to business. He was looking for financial

aid in his present experiments, and it had occurred to him that Savette's approval would bring Cranston's

"It is nearly ten o'clock," he said. "For two hours I have been discussing the value of atomic disintegration as

a source of tremendous power. In that time, I have endeavored to fully outline the principles that are involved

in this great subject. You have been patient, gentlemen now I shall reward you with the actual

Murdock went to a covered table near the center of the room. He drew aside the cloth to disclose a hollow

sphere of glass. This globe, which measured more than a foot in diameter, was mounted upon a base of metal.

He pressed a switch and a motor began to hum. Tiny sparks appeared within the globe. Then came quick

The activity within the hollow sphere seemed like warfare in miniature. The onlookers stared in fascination,

When the chaos had reached its height and the globe seemed ready to break apart, Murdock again pressed the

switch. The terrific commotion continued for a few minutes, then gradually ceased. The witnesses gazed at

"That," declared Clark Murdock, "is a perfect demonstration of my discovery. You have seen the results of

atomic disintegration conducted in a vacuum. Now imagine, gentlemen" the chemist's face took on a

visionary stare "the same activity on a much larger scale within a steelwalled chamber. There is power

He stopped suddenly as he heard the sound of a telephone bell in another room. Carefully, Murdock

disconnected the apparatus and went from the laboratory. He returned in a few minutes and spoke to Doctor

The physician went into the other room. When he returned a short while afterward he found Murdock again

"I have learned the secrets of the atom," the chemist was saying. "More than that, I have discovered a method

"As some of you have remarked, I do run a risk in my experiments; but that risk is in the interests of science.

Often, I have been tempted to let the electric charge continue until the last possible moment; but I have

"Here, in this laboratory," he said, "a bursting of the crystal sphere would prove disastrous. The atomic

energy would be quickly dispelled, but it might start explosions among certain of the chemicals you see upon

"Twice I have barely prevented fires, here. I have never been able to obtain insurance, and I have chosen this

obscure place because there are comparatively few neighbors who could be harmed should things go wrong."

"It would mean a great loss to science," someone remarked. "You should be careful "

"I must be careful of myself, yes," replied Murdock. "All the apparatus which you see here could all be

replaced with ease under my supervision. I carry all my plans here" he tapped his forehead significantly

"But it is a fact, gentlemen, that should I die, my discoveries would be lost. I do not say forever for what

one has learned, another may learn. But I do say that there is no other man alive who could duplicate what

There was no braggadocio in Murdock's manner as he looked about the group. He had the air of a man who

has stated a simple fact. This was not lost upon the visitors. They knew that they had heard the truth.

Doctor Savette advanced with outstretched hand. Clark Murdock received his clasp.

"Let me congratulate you, Mr. Murdock," said the physician. "This is the most remarkable demonstration that

I have ever witnessed. I predict the highest success. You have proven the value of your discoveries."

The man who had harnessed the atom beamed at these words of approval. The others of the group were

"My only regret," declared Doctor Savette, "is that I must leave you now. This second telephone call was

more urgent than the first that I received tonight. I shall look forward to your next demonstration with

Good night, doctor," said Murdock warmly. "It has been a privilege to have you here. Upon your next visit, I

shall show you how atomic energy works. By then I expect to have a globe of steel in which the atoms will

Doctor Savette shook hands with the other men in the group and left the laboratory. Murdock continued with

his discussion; then evidenced that his demonstrations were finished for the night. He ushered his guests from

"I shall continue to work tonight," he said as the visitors departed. "I work best when I am alone."

BACK in his laboratory, Clark Murdock sat down and smiled thoughtfully. He was pleased with tonight's

results. Doctor Savette had been commending. Lamont Cranston and the others who had gone with him had

The chemist looked about the laboratory and gazed at the crystal sphere. Then his thoughts changed and he

He had remembered that two truckmen were coming to remove a huge box that they had left that afternoon.

They had called up immediately afterward to state that there had been a mistake. Another box should have

been brought instead. It would be delivered later; in the meantime, the men would come to take away the

Murdock wondered why the men had not yet arrived. He reached a small room outside his laboratory. On one

side was a flight of stairs leading to the ground floor. Straight ahead was the elevator which had been

installed for the lifting of heavy apparatus. The box was pushed in a corner near the elevator.

The chemist shouted down the stairway. There was no response. Evidently the expected men were still on

Murdock started back toward the laboratory. Then, suddenly curious, he stopped to look at the box. It was a

large, oblong contrivance. It was set on end, and the front of the box was hinged, like a door.

Murdock studied the box. He could see no address upon it. He wondered if the truckmen had actually made a

mistake. This box was twice as large as the one he had expected, nevertheless, it might contain the apparatus

The chemist saw a heavy hammer hanging on the wall. His curiosity increased. He suddenly decided to open

Prying the front of the box with the hammer, Murdock gradually loosened the side which was securely nailed.

It was not an easy task, for the nails were still partly in position. But Murdock kept on at the work, resolved

The box tilted forward as the chemist pulled at it. Then, at an unexpected moment, the doorlike front

Then, leaning against the wall, he stared in utter bewilderment at an object that tumbled from the box and

It was the form of a man a lifeless, inert shape, that lay in a twisted, huddled pose. It was a man clad in

Clark Murdock plucked his own coat with his hands. His garb and that of the dead man were identical. More

than that, the size and shape of that body were the same as the chemist's own form!

Stepping slowly forward, Murdock bent down andlifted the body back toward the box. He noted that the

interior of the wooden case was thickly padded to prevent its contents from being tossed about.

But the chemist gave no second thought to that matter. He was interested in this form on the floor, with its

He turned the body sideways to get a glimpse of the face. The light was dim, here in the landing of the

His hands were holding the lifeless head. He was staring at the features of this person who had been the

For Clark Murdock was looking at a countenance which he could not fail to recognize. The face of the dead

WHEN Clark Murdock recovered from his bewilderment that followed his strange discovery, he stood with

A keen analyst, Murdock sought to fathom the mystery that lay here. But his mind was schooled to

chemistry, not crime. The longer he surveyed the gruesome form, the more did he become perplexed.

He was tempted at first to replace the body in the box and inclose it so that it could be taken away when the

truckmen came. Then the thought occurred to him that the men were long overdue, that in all probability they

The upshot was that Clark Murdock had in his possession the dead body of an unknown man, whose garb and

features were characteristic of his own. This was something that seemed too amazing to be merely

What should he do? Call the police? That would be the proper course, yet Murdock hesitated to take it. He

realized that he would be subjected to a most undesirable crossexamination, and that it would be difficult for

He had not seen the box come in. Stevens had been here, but Murdock knew the stupidity of his assistant. He

doubted that either he or Stevens could give the police any information that would enable them to trace the

Nevertheless, the whole matter was a source of great annoyance to the chemist, and he felt that he must

summon someone competent to handle it. He had planned extensive experiments tonight. These would be

Then it occurred to him that if the truckmen should return even though that chance was remote it would

That left only one choice. He must call the police. Delay would be unwise. Nodding to himself, the

stoopshouldered chemist went back into his laboratory and continued into his living room. There he seated

himself at the telephone table and began to consult the directory, to find the number of detective

WHILE he was thus engaged, he heard a slight sound near by and looked up suddenly to see Doctor Gerald

Savette. The physician had just entered the room from the hallway and was bowing courteously.

"I trust I am not intruding?" The physician's tone was smooth and easy. "I found that I could return

immediately after I reached my office. I had hopes that your guests would still be here."

"Through the front door," replied Doctor Savette suavely. "I rang the bell and there was no response. Then I

remembered that your man had gone for the night. I also recalled that you and the others had been in the

laboratory when I left. So I took the liberty of opening the door and coming upstairs."

"But the door was locked," declared Murdock. "I haven't any objection to your entering, Doctor Savette. You

are always welcome here. But I cannot understand how you came in through a locked door."

"I found it unlocked," returned the physician, with a smile. "Otherwise I could not have entered."

"I must have forgotten to lock it," observed Clark Murdock, thoughtfully. "Strange I felt sure that I had

pushed the bolts on the door. An oversight on my part, doctor, but a fortunate one. I am glad that you are

"I am pleased to hear that," said Savette. "I should like to talk with you further in reference to your

"There is something more important for the moment, doctor. Something that demands immediate attention."

"Something more important than your experiments?" Doctor Savette's tone showed his puzzlement. "I can

The chemist arose and placed the phone book to one side. He beckoned to his visitor and led the way through

"I was just about to telephone the police," he explained. "Your arrival was a timely one. I needed advice,

"My advice on what?" questioned Savette, as they reached the far door. "Why should you need the police?"

He opened the door to the landing and pointed to the body on the floor. Doctor Savette drew back with an

He stared silently at the still face; then looked up at Murdock. He stepped back and surveyed the body; then

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Amazing, Murdock! The man bears a remarkable resemblance to you!"

"Today," said Murdock. "Delivered by mistake. That, at least, is what Stevens told me. The truckmen are

"Hmmm," responded the physician. "This is perplexing, Murdock. Yet it seems to have a strange

significance. It is not likely that the sender of such a box would let it go to the wrong place. Frankly, I don't

think that those men will return. I think the box was intended to be left here."

"It might be the work of some enemy," said Doctor Savette, slowly. "Some one may wish to hamper your

experiments. You were about to call the police. If they should come here, it would mean a great deal of

trouble and annoyance to you enough, perhaps, to delay your work for some time."

"That is true," responded Murdock, "but I can not understand why the body should be specially dressed in

"I have another theory," resumed the physician, thoughtfully. "This may be a threat a plan to frighten you.

The person who sent this box could not have expected you to open it tonight. You were expecting men to take

"That's right," agreed the chemist. "I can't explain exactly why I did open it. I suppose that I would ordinarily

"Correct," declared Savette. "Now let us suppose that a message is on its way, that you are to receive a threat

in which the box is mentioned. Opening the box, you find a dead body that resembles yourself. That would

certainly make the threat emphatic, would it not? Particularly if the threat were directed against your life."

Clark Murdock nodded in accord. Then he showed a sudden response to Doctor Savette's statement:

"I think you have struck the right theory, doctor," he exclaimed. "That makes it imperative for me to call the

The chemist was turning to the door that led into the laboratory. His hand was already on the knob.

THERE was a command in Doctor Savette's exclamation. Clark Murdock turned in surprise. He stared at the

Stocky and sallow, with shrewd eyes, Doctor Savette appeared as a menacing figure instead of the suave,

polite professional man that he had been a moment before. It was Murdock's sudden turn that enabled him to

While the chemist stared in consternation, Savette's masklike affability was resumed. Again he became the

suave physician and his persuasive voice sought to regain the confidence of Murdock.

"It would be inadvisable to call the police," purred the doctor. "That is exactly what the sender of this box

"You speak," he said coldly, "as though you are acquainted with the perpetrator of this outrage! It was very

timely your arrival while I was at the telephone. Suppose" Murdock's eyes were gleaming furiously

"that I should accuse you of complicity in the crime that lies evidenced there before us? What would you say

The stinging words had their effect. Savette's lips spread in an ugly leer. His sallow face became tense and a

vein swelled in his forehead. No longer attempting to play his part of friendliness, he gave full rein to his fury

Murdock released his hold upon the doorknob and raised his clenched hands. Though light of build and older

than his antagonist, the stoopshouldered chemist was a wiry man, capable of putting up a battle. He met

Savette's advance and the two men stood with their eyes no more than a foot apart, each meeting the other's

There was no fear in Murdock's stare and Savette, though he had become a veritable demon, hesitated as he

saw the firm, unyielding glare in Murdock's determined eyes. It was the chemist who spoke first; and his

"So you returned," he said. "You passed through a doublebolted door. Anxious to reach here before the

others had gone, eh? You lied, Savette! You never left this house! You waited in one of my empty rooms

"You are here for an evil purpose. That body in the box is your doing. You are not my friend; you are my

enemy! I do not know your scheme, but I can tell you this" his voice hardened with emphasis "I can tell

you that you will not leave here tonight until I have learned your designs and placed you where you belong!

A HIDEOUS change had come over the physician's face. His clenched teeth were grinning like the fangs of a

Murdock's accusation had done its work. Gerald Savette stood revealed as a fiend. Now, his voice, like his

"You call me a murderer," he snarled. "I am a murderer! I killed the man whose body lies here on the floor!

You accuse me of complicity. I am more than an accomplice. I sent that box here, Murdock. You blundered

into it and learned what it contained. That is something you should never have discovered.

"But it makes no difference now. You think that I am thwarted" a vicious laugh spattered from Savette's

ugly lips "and that I shall let you call the police. You are wrong, Murdock. Wrong, as you shall learn "

Savette's hands were stealing toward his pocket. He was trying to hold Murdock's gaze so that the chemist

Scarcely had Savette's fingers disappeared from view before Murdock leaped forward upon him. Savette

twisted away as his attacker struck. But he was too late. The wiry chemist seized his right wrist as the hand

A sharp twist and Savette was weaponless as the gun fell to the floor beside the dead body that lay there.

Then the men were locked in a ferocious struggle. Savette, though heavier and more powerful, had met an

antagonist of unexpected strength. They hurtled back and forth in the narrow confines of the landing, each

Clark Murdock was gaining the advantage. He gripped his opponent's arms and held them pinioned. He drove

Savette backward until the snarling fiend stumbled over the body on the floor and fell, with Murdock

For a moment, Savette's left arm was free. His hand once more gained his pocket. Murdock, suspecting

Savette's fist was clenched tightly. It held no visible weapon. But Murdock, with grim determination, sought

It was then that Savette made a wild, desperate motion. He struggled fiercely and clambered upward, clawing

with his right hand at Murdock's eyes. The chemist dodged the sudden attack and wrapped his right arm

about Savette's neck. He had turned the twist to his advantage. He was choking his foe into submission.

Savette's head went back and Murdock stared into the leering face as it purpled visibly. Savette's arms swept

free and stretched upon the floor. Then his left hand swung upward, unseen by the man who was conquering

A tiny object flashed in Savette's fist as he drove it toward Murdock's shoulder. A sharp grunt came from

Murdock as the needle of a hypodermic pierced his flesh. Savette's arms dropped and his head thumped back

against the floor. The hypodermic syringe clattered upon the floor. Savette was choking, gasping, helpless;

Murdock's hold relaxed. The fighting chemist swayed backward and forward. His body flopped suddenly to

Three men lay motionless. Gerald Savette was scarcely breathing. Clark Murdock was slumped in a heap.

SOON Savette moved. Wearily, he raised his head and drew himself to a sitting position by gripping the side

The fiendish leer glowered on his face. Then, as he raised himself to his feet, he took on his normal pose. He

carefully dusted his clothes and stood, with folded arms, smiling serenely at the scene before him.

Two motionless men Clark Murdock and another. Two men, garbed alike, similar in features and

appearance. A casual observer could not have told which was the famous chemist and which the body from

Calmly, Savette picked up his automatic and pocketed it. He found the hypodermic near a corner of the box

and examined it to make sure that it had done its full work. Then he inspected the form of Clark Murdock, as

To outward appearances, the famous chemist was dead. His wrinkled face had gained a chalklike pallor. His

body was stiffened as Doctor Savette lifted it and thrust it unmercifully into the box. Assuring himself that

Murdock was well wedged among the cushions, Savette replaced the front of the box and carefully hammered

He pressed the button at the elevator shaft and brought the car to the second floor. Then he gradually edged

the box into the lift and rode downstairs with it. He pushed it from the elevator.

Then Doctor Savette opened an outer door and peered into the darkness of an alley. A flashlight glimmered in

A truck moved along the alley. It stopped by the open door and two husky, darkclad men entered. They

lifted the box and carried it away. They saw no sign of Doctor Savette. They heard only the mechanism of the

The truck rolled from the alley, carrying its newly obtained baggage. All was silent at the old house. Upstairs,

He lifted the body of the dead man that form that looked so much like Clark Murdock and carried it into

the chemist's laboratory. There he placed it in front of the table that bore the huge, hollow crystal.

Doctor Savette laughed as he gazed at the face of the dead man. It looked amazingly like the countenance of

Clark Murdock. It bore thin, closeknit scars that Savette stroked carefully with his forefinger. That face was

Leaving the body, the physician selected several bottles from the shelf. He poured a mixture of liquids into a

shallow bowl and left it close beside the crystal sphere. He pressed the switch. A humming sound began and

Savette laughed as the weird activity increased. In a few minutes, the display of the atomic energy would be

more evident. Then it would become forceful, bursting with increased fury until at last the walls of the crystal

But Doctor Savette did not choose to wait for that tremendous moment. He walked quickly across the

laboratory, latched the door behind him and went downstairs by the elevator. He left the house by the exit to

Only the silence of death remained in the home of Clark Murdock. Up in the laboratory, the atomic power

was surging soundless within the crystal sphere. Before it, stooped as though in thought, was the body of the

Dynamic, bursting particles were smashing against the sides of the crystal prison. It was a mighty spectacle in

THE 'Morning Sphere' carried a sensational story of the holocaust at Clark Murdock's. Its sweeping headlines

Murdock's experiments in atomic disintegration had long been a subject of news interest. It was known that

he had made progress in the harnessing of the atom, and his demonstration of the preceding evening had been

Now, by misadventure, the chemist had encountered trouble in one of his solitary experiments, and the

resultant disaster had cost him his life. Shortly before midnight, there had been an explosion in his laboratory.

Experts agreed that his crystal container must have burst through an overcharge of imprisoned energy.

Whether or not this had killed Clark Murdock was purely a matter of speculation. Had the crystal burst in an

empty room, results might have been different. But Murdock's laboratory was stocked with dangerous

chemicals. The freed atomic energy had evidently acted over a wide area, for other explosions had resulted.

When firemen arrived, the laboratory was the center of a mighty blaze. Heroic work had brought the flames

under control, and in the wreckage of the place were found the mutilated remains of Clark Murdock. The

Among those who read the story with keen interest was a quietfaced gentleman named Rutledge Mann. He

was an investment broker who had his office in an upper story of one of Manhattan's new skyscrapers.

Secluded in his private office, Mann not only perused the account with deliberate care, but he concluded his

Mann opened a drawer in his desk and added the clipping to a mass of others. He sat with folded hands and

stared in silence from the window. There was a rap at the door. In answer to Mann's response, a stenographer

When the girl had gone, Mann opened the envelope and took out a folded sheet of paper. This proved to be a

note inscribed in coded characters, which the investment broker read as easily as if it had been written in

ordinary letters. He nodded as he read and when he had finished, Mann laid the paper on his desk. He picked

While Mann was telephoning, the inscription on the letter began to fade. It disappeared completely, as if an

invisible hand had stretched from nowhere to eradicate the writing. Concluding a brief telephone

conversation Mann picked up the blank sheet as though nothing had happened and tore the paper to

AN hour later, a young man called at the office of Rutledge Mann. This was Clyde Burke, a newspaper

reporter on the staff of the New York 'Classic'. He and Mann immediately engaged in a short, confidential

"Notice these names," said Mann quietly, pointing to the paragraph. "These men were at Murdock's home last

night. They witnessed a demonstration of his atomic disintegration and then left. See what you can get me on

Burke nodded and left. Rutledge Mann turned his attention from newspaper clippings to investments.

It was late in the afternoon when Clyde Burke returned. The reporter laid an envelope on Mann's desk and

Mann opened the envelope. Within he discovered typewritten sheets discussing each of the individuals who

The investment broker studied each sheet and laid them aside one by one until he came to a paper that bore

Mann read this page with interest. He knew Lamont Cranston by sight and by reputation. The man was an

He spent most of his time while in New York at his favorite clubs. But Cranston was seldom in New York.

Cranston, according to Burke's report, had financed a number of successful scientific projects, and it was

likely that he had gone to Murdock's with some such plan in mind for the new process of harnessing the

Cranston's sheet was laid aside and Rutledge Mann observed another page that bore the name of Doctor

Gerald Savette. He had heard of this prominent physician, but until now there had been no occasion to go into

According to the report, Doctor Savette had experienced a varied medical career. At one time he had

conducted a small sanitarium on Long Island. There had been a fire there nearly three years ago.

Savette's heroic efforts had saved the lives of all his patients except one. Austin Bellamy, a retired

manufacturer had perished in the blaze. His charred body had been recovered from the ruins.

Since then, Savette had resided in New York, where he had gained considerable repute as a plastic surgeon,

although this field represented but one of his many medical accomplishments. Recently, Savette had traveled

occasionally from New York, but Burke had found no record of the physician's journeys.

At the end of the sheets, Mann found a page which Burke had voluntarily supplied. It listed brief reports on

persons indirectly concerned with those who had been at Murdock's home. Mann clipped these short

He folded the papers, added clippings from the newspapers and put them all in a large envelope. In order to

obtain clippings, Mann had opened the desk drawer. He now began an examination of other clippings which

One of these caused a perplexed frown to appear upon the broad forehead of the investment broker. It

pertained to the strange disappearance of Professor Pierre Rachaud, a radio technician who was considered an

There were many supplementary reports concerning Professor Rachaud; for his loss had created a great stir in

But most important were the actual circumstances that surrounded the accredited death of the eminent

professor. Mann studied the clipping which referred to it a recent article which had summarized the entire

Professor Pierre Rachaud had departed from New York on a weekend cruise. He had made a regular hobby of

such cruises and his familiar face, with its huge, bushy black beard, had been seen by passengers on the

On the first night out, Professor Rachaud had visited the smoking room and had been observed in a secluded

corner, enjoying a bottle of his favorite French wine. Shortly after he had left, a radiogram had been received

Professor Rachaud, being neither in his stateroom nor in the smoking room, a search was instituted for him.

He was nowhere on the ship. In a period of not more than fifteen minutes, the radio technician had

Rachaud's luggage had been discovered in his stateroom. But there was no sign of the man. He had not, of

The logical assumption was that the professor had gone overboard. Yet the sea was calm and there were

many passengers on deck. It seemed incredible that the man could have been lost at sea under such

The case had developed into an international mystery. Professor Rachaud was a Frenchman, living in New

York, and he had taken passage on a British ship. Dozens of eminent detectives were working on the case,

TO Rutledge Mann, this strange affair was of great interest. Beside it, the death of Clark Murdock, which had

Nevertheless, it was Mann's duty to assemble data on the Murdock case alone. So he regretfully replaced the

Pocketing the envelope which dealt with Murdock's demise, Rutledge Mann glanced at his watch and noted

that it was after five o'clock. He went into the outer office, told the girl that she could leave for the day; then

Taking the subway, he rode downtown to Twentythird Street. There, Mann strolled along until he came to

an old, squalid building that was virtually deserted. He entered and made his way upstairs to the door of a

The investment broker dropped the envelope through the mail chute in the door. He heard it plunk behind the

barrier. Then he went down the dimly lighted stairs and reached the street. He hailed a taxicab and rode to his

It was a strange business for an investment broker, this task of going over newspaper clippings and obtaining

unprinted information through a reporter on the 'Classic'. Even more strange was the visit of Rutledge Mann

What dealings did the fastidious investment broker have with a man named Jonas, who inhabited one of the

That was a fact known to a very few. Those who understood were sworn to secrecy. For Rutledge Mann and

Clyde Burke were members of a small and obscure company. They were agents of the mysterious man called

The Shadow that strange figure whose name had become the terror of the underworld.

Clyde Burke had assembled material for Rutledge Mann. The investment broker had revised the data which

the reporter had given him. Now the final reports were waiting in the mail chute for the man who had ordered

To all New York, the death of Clark Murdock might have been accepted as a misadventure. But to The

Shadow, it must have a greater significance. For he had instructed Mann, through a mysterious message, to

The calm activities of The Shadow's agents were the forerunners of approaching storm. When The Shadow

A circle of light upon the smooth surface of a polished table. Long, slender fingers, moving like detached

Unknown even to his own operatives, The Shadow was a man of mystery. His very identity was a subject of

unanswered speculation. To the hordes of the underworld, the very mention of The Shadow brought

Time and again, this dread figure had arrived from nowhere, to strike the foes of justice. Brutal mobsters had

died, with the name of The Shadow on their trembling lips. Men who called themselves masterminds of

crime had quailed before an avenging figure clad in black, knowing him to be The Shadow.

The police, too, knew of The Shadow, although they tactfully avoided mention of his existence. The Shadow,

Time and again, some shrewd detective had received credit for the capture of a desperate crook, with no one

There was a definite reason why The Shadow ignored publicity. His strength lay in the shroud of mystery that

It was true that his voice was heard over the radio, in a program over a national broadcasting chain. That also

served The Shadow's purpose. The tones of his mysterious voice were recognized by all who heard them. Yet

all the efforts of the underworld to learn the identity of the broadcaster had come to no avail.

The Shadow spoke from a soundproof room, boxed with black curtains. His method of entrance and exit from

the place was a mystery that had never been solved not even by those connected with the broadcasting

The Shadow's mission was war on crime. At night he stalked the streets of New York, ready to thwart the

plans of evildoers. He was everywhere yet nowhere. A champion of law and order, this man of the night

hunted criminals as an explorer might scour the jungle in search of maneating tigers.

When unsolved crimes occurred, The Shadow became a master of detection. His marvelous brain had

developed the power of deduction to a miraculous degree. Clews bobbed up from nowhere, that the police

Yet these faculties were not the greatest that The Shadow possessed. He had one power that was beyond all

The Shadow's greatest work was the discovery of crime. In cases which the police passed over; in instances

where even the craftiest schemers of the underworld saw nothing amiss, The Shadow appeared to disclose

A MASTER of disguise, The Shadow could appear in any company unsuspected. But when he stepped from

the night to appear as a power of vengeance, his chosen part was that of a tall figure garbed in black. His cry

The symbol of The Shadow was the gem upon his finger; that fire opal, known as a girasol a stone

unmatched in all the world. Few knew of its significance. But when The Shadow was at work, that sparkling

Tonight, beneath the rays of a green shaded lamp, the girasol was glowing with everchanging hues. From

deep crimson it became rich purple; then it changed again to a shade of darkened blue.

The hands of The Shadow opened an envelope. Out fell the papers that Rutledge Mann had assembled that

afternoon. One by one, the pages fluttered aside, until only two of the reports remained.

The laugh of The Shadow echoed softly through the shrouded room, and returned in ringing mockery, as

though from the walls of a tomb. The long pointed fingers spread over the sheet that told the history of

Doctor Savette. A hand moved into the darkness; it returned with a pencil, and checked this paragraph:

Now the hand progressed to a pasted strip at the bottom of the page. It checked these words:

There was a long, silent pause, while invisible eyes from the dark scanned the other references concerning

Doctor Savette. The fingers picked up a small envelope that had come within the large one, and drew forth a

dozen small clippings that told of different crimes. These were spread across the table.

The left hand, with its gleaming gem, moved across them and poised above a single clipping. With uncanny

The clipping was a brief paragraph that told of the finding of a young man's body on a vacant lot in the

Now another envelope came into view. From it the hands extracted a folded clipping. That item would have

interested Rutledge Mann, for it concerned the strange disappearance of Professor Pierre Rachaud. Mann had

supplied the clipping to The Shadow, but had received no further orders concerning the case.

With great precision, the hands set the Rachaud clipping in the center of the table. Below it, they placed the

newspaper account of Clark Murdock's death. A space remained below. It was unfilled.

There was significance in that blank area of polished table surface. It indicated that something was to follow.

THE laugh of The Shadow was a whispered tone as the long right hand placed the tip of the pencil upon a

sheet of blank paper. It wrote these words in column form, pausing momentarily between each one:

After the word at the top of the column, the hand of The Shadow inscribed the name Bellamy. Next on the list

The list and the clippings were pushed aside. Once more the hand ran over the report on Doctor Savette. It

Once more The Shadow's laugh resounded. Beside the sentence that told of the physician's journeys, the hand

That was the name of the ship from which Professor Pierre Rachaud had disappeared!

Now came the summary of The Shadow's findings; brief, cryptic statements, written by the hand that held the

The hand poised; then with one sweeping gesture, it drove a penciled line through the entire list. Again and

again, it repeated the operation, until the writing was riddled with canceling marks.

Then came a short, spasmodic burst of laughter; a sharp cry of mockery that stopped with amazing

suddenness. The walls threw back the sound as though a host of hidden elves had answered the call of their

Papers and clippings were swept away. The top of the table shone uncovered. A click came from the darkness

Only impenetrable blackness remained nightlike gloom that murmured with the uncanny tones of a

Doctor Gerald Savette was at home. Seated in an upstairs living room, the physician was smoking his pipe

and reading the evening newspaper. His sallow face was placid, save for a slight smile that curled upon his

A short, plainly dressed man stepped into the room. Doctor Savette turned toward him.

The two men were of about the same height. Tremont was the elder, but except for his grayish hair, he did not

appear to be Savette's senior. Like Savette, Tremont was smiling. The two men clasped hands, then sat

opposite each other. Savette picked up the newspaper and turned it so that his visitor could read the headlines.

"Very good, Gerald," replied Tremont approvingly. "Very, very good. Only it was pretty close."

"Only because I happened to be with Orlinov," answered Glade Tremont. "As soon as he learned that Steffan

"Yes," said Savette, "I received both his calls over at Murdock's. I had to alibi it by saying they were from my

office. That is the advantage of the physician. Unexpected calls are unsuspected calls. The second one helped

"Of course," responded Savette. "That bum that Biff Towley picked for a subject was a lot like Murdock right

from the start. It didn't take long for me to remedy the few facial defects. Plastic surgery is a quick matter

Tremont responded with a laugh. Savette smiled knowingly. Both men were meditative for a few minutes;

"Too much," replied Tremont. "It was a mistake for Orlinov to have him up there. I knew that all along.

Orlinov wanted him because he could speak Russian. That was unnecessary. Orlinov talks English well

"Yes," agreed Savette. "Still, he has to have someone intelligent enough to be his secretary. He can't use one

He paused suddenly and stared past Tremont toward a side window of the room. The shade was drawn, but it

"What's the matter?" asked Tremont looking in the direction of his companion's stare.

"That window," said Savette. "It is always shut and locked. Now it appears to be open. Wait a moment."

HE arose and went to the window. He raised the shade and revealed the sash open from the top. He stared at

it in a puzzled manner; then raised both portions of the sash and put his head out into the dark.

Satisfied with a brief inspection, he lowered the bottom sash and latched the window. He pulled down the

Hughes responded half a minute later. The servant looked inquiringly at the physician.

"It was open a few minutes ago," declared Savette, in a reproving tone. "Be more careful after this, Hughes."

The servant left the room, shaking his head. He closed the door behind him. Savette looked at Tremont in a

"I can't understand that," he said. "I have been in this room all evening. No one could have opened the

window from in here. Someone from the outside with the right kind of implement or "

"You want the explanation?" he asked. "I'll give it to you. Hughes lied. He forgot to close the window. That's

"You aren't?" queried Tremont. "Well, I am. You know who is outside, don't you?"

"Yes. Jake Bosch is with him. I don't take chances when I come to see you, Gerald. They are watching this

"If anyone scaled that wall and opened the window, it happened some time ago, and the fellow is gone now.

He couldn't get up or down without making a lot of noise about it. Biff and Jake would spot him sure."

Doctor Savette appeared reassured. He settled back in his chair, and lighted his pipe.

"Talking about a secretary for Orlinov," replied Tremont. "I think we can handle that. Take Towley, for

"Certainly, I am merely mentioning him as an example. There must be other gangsters of his mental caliber.

I'll tell him what we want. He can get one, even though he may have to go outside of his own mob."

"Good idea," commended Savette. His tone changed suddenly. Once more he was staring beyond Tremont.

UP on his feet, Savette strode across the room and raised the shade. The window sash was tightly locked.

Savette shrugged his shoulders, and drew down the shade. He came back to his chair.

"Imagination, that time," he said. "I might as well forget it from now on. Tell me all that happened with

"It was quite short and quite sweet," declared Tremont, with a smile. "Orlinov and I were talking yesterday

afternoon. The fellow evidently overheard us. He disappeared right after dinner.

"We called in the man at the gate, and he said that Steffan had gone out in a car, saying that Orlinov had sent

him to the village something which Orlinov had done on a few occasions. We sent a man down to the

"I figured that Steffan had just had time enough to catch the express for New York. So I called Towley, and

"At the Weehawken Terminal. Steffan tried to call Murdock's place, but Towley beat him to it. He dialed the

"Ah! That's why he talked so long and so vaguely, when he made the first call. He asked me to keep

"You know the reason now. Well, Steffan gave it up as a bad job, and headed for Murdock's. Jake went along

in another cab. Biff had two men on the job. Jake nudged Steffan into the car, and he wound up in the

"Very, very nice," said Doctor Savette. "Well, it's all done now. You told me over the phone that you heard

"Yes," declared Tremont. "I came down on the late train, as you know. I received Orlinov's wire about two

He drew a yellow slip from his pocket, and handed it to the physician. Savette smiled as he read it. He laid

"I'll take care of that," responded Tremont. "That is, the first part of it. You know my general plan. There are

advantages in being an attorney, just as there are advantages to the physician."

"I am speaking comparatively, Gerald. First of all, I contact well with Orlinov. He appears as an inventor, and

I represent him. Besides that, there is nothing out of the way for me to meet Biff Towley in my office. That

is, as long as Biff keeps away from crime that looks too big. All racketeers have their lawyers. It's quite

"You have a variety of clients," said Savette, with a smile. "The best contrast was between Bellamy and

"Let's not talk about Sharrock," said Tremont testily. "We slipped up with him. We had him where we wanted

him, and we let him get away. If it hadn't been for that, we could have closed up long ago."

"Perhaps," responded Savette, in a reminiscent tone. "But why? Circumstances have put us in line for a much

"Leave that to me. I'll find a way to handle it. You brought in the first. I'll bring in the last."

Glade Tremont arose. He walked toward the door, and Gerald Savette followed him. Lawyer and physician,

"How is Orlinov making out?" questioned Savette, as they stood within the door. "As well as he claimed he

"Yes," Tremont answered him. "He speaks French very fluently. It has served well."

With this remark, the lawyer opened the door. The physician accompanied his guest downstairs. The living

THE shade of the side window trembled slightly. It pressed slowly inward until it formed a bulge. From

The huddled shape arose and became a tall, imposing figure a man garbed in a black cloak, whose features

With gliding, silent stride, The Shadow swept across the room. He stood beside the chairs where the two men

had discussed their affairs. His keen eyes spotted the telegram that lay upon the table. A blackgloved hand

The message was from Glendale, New York. It was addressed to Glade Tremont, Waverly Building, New

York City. It was signed Ivan Orlinov. Its capitalized letters formed this statement:

The gloved hand replaced the paper on the table. Swiftly, The Shadow swept across the room and moved

upward beneath the window shade. Thus concealed from view, he drew his form over the sashes, which were

Clinging, invisible, to the narrow ledge, he pushed the top sash upward. It glided noiselessly into place. There

was a scratching sound scarcely audible as a thin strip of metal was wedged between the two sections.

Under pressure from the unseen hand, the latch on the lower sash closed tightly. The metal implement was

Batlike, the tall form moved along the wall, clinging to the uneven stone surface. It was totally invisible in

Then The Shadow stopped his progress and remained suspended ten feet from the ground as stealthy

The two men sauntered away in the dark. Then the clinging form of The Shadow was again in action.

Noiselessly, the man of the dark reached the walk and made his way to the street.

He was a being of silence as he merged into the darkness. Tonight, The Shadow had been a man of stealth.

Two men had plotted while their henchmen were on guard. They were supermen of crime, and their

Yet not one of the four had detected the presence of The Shadow. Silently and invisibly, he had come from

the dark to learn the ways of these men of crime. Tonight, The Shadow had withheld his hand.

Two men, possessors of tremendous resources, were using their guise of high respectability to further a

gigantic scheme of evil. The Shadow, alone, had gained a knowledge of their malefactions. Secretly, working

from the dark, he must sap their power until it was no more than an empty shell.

IT was late in the afternoon when Biff Towley, the swarthy racketeer, strolled into the office of Glade

Tremont. The visitor's name was announced, and he was ushered into the lawyer's private office.

Every gangster of Towley's ilk had an attorney; and even so prominent a man as Glade Tremont was willing

to act as legal representative for persons who kept on the shady side of the law. Hence there was nothing out

But within the walls of the inner office, where the two men were sequestered undisturbed, the relationship

between gangster and attorney took on a new light. Biff Towley had not come here for advice. He had come

"I've got a good man for you," declared Biff, in a low tone. "Fact is, I've picked two of 'em. It's up to you to

"Well," said Biff, "when you told me night before last, that you needed a guy that could handle a rod and act

like a stiff shirt, too, I knew it wasn't going to be too easy to get one. You know the kind of bozos I keep in

"I figured I could spot a guy I wanted," continued Biff, "if I waited around at the Club Savilla. That's my

regular hangout, and lots of smooth birds come in there. Well, last night, two of them showed up. Got talking

"One is Pinkey Baird. Looks like a gentlemen, and acts like one. An old con man, resting easy. Good with the

rod. I've known him from years back. Just the smooth sort of fellow we want; talks in long syllables and all

"I don't know him so well, but I've met him before. He's been out of New York for a while. Cliff Marsland is

his name. He did time up in the Big House, but that's pretty well forgotten now. He's been mixed up in a

couple of big rackets, and he's always come out O.K. The dicks haven't got a thing on him."

"To the dot. Younger than Pinkey Baird. Pokerfaced, but he talks like a college graduate. I guess he is one,

"No. I wanted to talk to you first. They'll both be at the Club Savilla tonight. All I've got to do is give the

wink to the right one, and hold him there after the other has gone away. Thought I'd talk it over with you,

"That's right," commended the lawyer. "From what you say, Biff, either one would do. I prefer Pinkey Baird,

"You've known Baird longer," said Tremont thoughtfully. "He's older and, from what you say, he's safer. This

fellow Marsland sounds like a good one but I choose Baird in preference. Try him.

"If he wants the job, give it to him. If he doesn't, then take Marsland. I'm leaving it to your judgment, Biff. I

"You know all about it, Biff," declared Tremont. "Tell your man the old story. Orlinov has enemies. Needs an

intelligent companion. Has the place under guard. All the rest of it. Beyond that, keep mum as usual."

The gangster grinned. Well did he know the game that Glade Tremont was playing. He had helped that game,

Tremont was a square shooter in Biff's estimation. At the same time the swarthy gangster knew well that he

was totally within the lawyer's power. A snap of Tremont's fingers, and the police would have enough

Yet the gang leader was not ill at ease. He knew that the threat which hung over him would never be used so

Biff had never entertained the notion of doublecrossing his chief. Hence he dwelt in security, and had

"That's all, Biff," said Tremont. "I choose Baird if you can get him. Otherwise Marsland. Orlinov knows all

BIFF TOWLEY left the office. He strolled along Broadway and dropped into a theater. Biff liked crime

thrillers. They gave him a laugh these murder pictures when he compared them with the reality.

It was nearly six o'clock when he went into the theater. That meant that he would reach the Club Savilla after

Mentally, Biff Towley agreed with Glade Tremont's choice. "Pinkey" Baird was the right man for the job at

Glendale. There had been trouble because of Louis Steffan but Louis Steffan had not been a product of the

With either Baird or Marsland serving Orlinov, there would be no repetition of the trouble that had occurred

Biff had left both men eager to meet him again. He knew that each was looking for a tieup with a shady

Biff had promised nothing. He had merely intimated that he would like to see his acquaintances again.

Tonight he would line up Baird and ease off Marsland. Unless as was extremely unlikely Baird should

BUSINESS was moving at the Club Savilla before the hour of nine. While Biff Towley was still enjoying the

feature talkie, a throng of early comers was filing into the gay uptown nightclub. Among these early arrivals

They entered the club almost side by side, but did not speak to one another, for they were not acquainted.

Each took his place at a separate table, but both were close to the spot where Biff Towley made his

headquarters on his nightly visits to the Club Savilla. Tilted chairs denoted the gang leader's reservation.

Cliff Marsland, husky and steadyfaced, did not appear to be a gangster. Quietly puffing at a cigarette, he had

the air of a wealthy club member. He was attired in a tuxedo, and his clothes were wellfitted and

Pinkey Baird, twenty feet away, formed a contrast to Cliff Marsland. His face had a cunning look. His roving

eyes were everywhere as though seeking someone whom he could interest in a goldbrick proposition.

Cliff's eyes met Pinkey's; but the stare was only momentary. Neither knew that the other was awaiting Biff

Towley. In Pinkey, Cliff recognized the look of the shrewd confidence man. In Cliff, Pinkey saw only a

sternvisaged person who would be too smart to fall for any plan that he might offer. So both lost interest in

A tall man clad in a dark suit entered the Club Savilla and strolled over to the table where Pinkey Baird was

Pinkey Baird surveyed him quizzically, then looked elsewhere. But Cliff Marsland stared with furrowed

The newcomer had an impassive face, and his hawklike nose gave him a stern appearance. Somehow, that

He tried to catch a glimpse of the stranger's eyes, but failed. They were turned toward the table, except when

they occasionally peered in the direction of Pinkey Baird, who was staring straight ahead, unnoticing.

Cliff had seen that man last night. The hawkfaced stranger had been seated at a table close by, while Cliff

had been chatting with Biff Towley. Strangely enough, the same man had been there while Biff and Pinkey

Now, as Cliff Marsland ended his scrutiny, it was Pinkey Baird who found his interest aroused by the man

with the hawk nose. A voice spoke at Pinkey's elbow. Surprised by the low tones, Pinkey turned suddenly to

"Good evening, Baird," came the even, monotonous voice. "You are waiting for Biff Towley."

"That does not concern us," was the deliberate reply. "The important matter is that you are leaving here

"I have no quarrel with you," said the stranger quietly. "But I can make one if you desire it. The easy course

is for you to leave now. I feel that a trip South would be good for your health.

"This envelope" a long hand appeared with a sealed package "contains a ticket and reservation on the

With a contemptuous gesture, Pinkey Baird flung the envelope back to the man who had given it to him. He

leaned back in his chair, and grinned as he looked toward the dance floor of the club. Then the smile froze on

WITHOUT a word, the stranger had nudged close to his chair, and now the threatening muzzle of an

Pinkey stared into a pair of menacing eyes. He realized that he had met a man who meant business. Shakily,

The hawkfaced man rose with him. Side by side, they kept pace. Cliff Marsland stared in surprise as the

"You are going to Florida," whispered the voice in Pinkey's ear. "You are going to stay there for one

Pinkey felt the envelope as it entered his pocket. Gradually, he was yielding to the dominance of this man

They reached the street in front of the Club Savilla. There, the stranger beckoned to a taxicab. He urged

Pinkey realized that this man would brook no delay. He was taking him to the station for that was the order

As the cab pulled away from the curb, the pressure of the automatic relaxed. Slumped back in the seat,

Pinkey Baird appeared completely subdued. The cab moved onward a few yards; then stopped at a traffic

The sight of a uniformed policeman brought a sudden inspiration to Pinkey Baird. He was not in wrong with

the police. Perhaps this man was. Why should he let himself be shunted away at the order of a stranger?

Like a flash, Pinkey fell upon the man beside him. Sinewy and wiry, the confidence man was a powerful

The swiftness of his attack served him well. With one hand, Pinkey pulled the knob of the door. As his

The cab was starting forward, its door swinging wide, as Pinkey raised a cry for help. The policeman was

dashing for the sidewalk. Pinkey was gripping the muzzle of the gun as he sought to drag the other man

The odds were all in Pinkey Baird's favor. He had raised the shout. His opponent could not stop him now.

That gun in the other man's hand would mean trouble for him. It was too late for his enemy to fire, Pinkey

A muffled shot occurred within the taxicab. Pinkey's tugging hold relaxed. He toppled away, and plunged

The door closed, and the startled driver heard a sharp command to drive onward. Knowing that his remaining

The driver did not hear the left door of the cab open and close. The darkened street was filled with stopping

cars. The shrill blast of a police whistle sounded from the spot where the cab had been. The way was blocked

Between two menaces, the cabman stopped his car and crouched upon the driver's seat. He expected a shot to

The shot never came. A husky policeman dashed up to the side of the cab. With heavy hands he yanked open

WHERE was the mysterious passenger? People were thronging about the cab. Drivers of other cars were

running up. They were talking excitedly about the shot that they had heard; but none could offer further

A tall man with a hawkish face picked his way between two stopped cars, and approached the cab. He

"Some one left the cab," the tall man announced, in a deliberate voice. "He went out of the door on the street

A driver who had left his car some distance back came puffing up in time to hear the words.

"He's right, officer," the new arrival declared. "I thought I saw some fellow cut in front of my headlights. I

couldn't trace him after that. He was headed for the opposite sidewalk. He must have gone down the street."

The statement was logical. It was obvious that the mysterious assailant would no longer be anywhere near

Other policemen were arriving The people crowded about the cab were pushed aside. Drivers went back to

their cars. Bystanders moved to the sidewalk. Among these was the hawkfaced man.

He watched until an ambulance had driven away with Pinkey Baird. He waited until traffic was flowing along

Ten minutes later, Biff Towley arrived at the entrance to the nightclub. An assistant to the manager drew him

"Trouble out in the street a little while ago," said the assistant manager, in a low voice. "A couple of tough

"I only saw one of them," replied the assistant. "He was the fellow who took it. He was in here before it

happened, but I didn't shout about it. Thought you would like to know, though, because you met the guy last

"Nope. I didn't see him go out. You know the way it is with those smalltimers. Always battling among

"No. Just a clip in the shoulder. He did a nosedive out of the cab, though, and he was cold when I saw him.

BIFF TOWLEY was thinking as he walked back to his favorite table. A few days on the shelf put Pinkey

Baird out of a job, so far as Biff was concerned. Furthermore, he did not like the idea of taking on a man who

In a way, Biff was glad that this had occurred tonight. It showed him that Pinkey would not do.

Looking up from his table, Biff spied Cliff Marsland. He waved a greeting to his acquaintance. Cliff arose

"I want to talk to you," said Biff. "I've got something for you, Cliff. A job that's made for you. Want it?"

In a low voice, Biff Towley began his story. Cliff Marsland listened, nodding his understanding. Both men

were intent. Neither noticed another who was watching them from the seclusion of a table beside a pillar.

It was the hawkfaced man who had returned from his encounter with Pinkey Baird. Quietly, he surveyed the

chatting men. He waited, silent and austere, until the two arose and left the Club Savilla. Then, from his firm,

It was the soundless mirth of The Shadow. He had called the turn. Last night he had observed Biff Towley

talking with two men Pinkey Baird and Cliff Marsland. He knew that one of these was to be selected. He

There was a reason. Cliff Marsland reputed gangster, was a man who had a special mission. Presumably a

free lance in the underworld, he was in reality an agent of The Shadow. He had been summoned to make

contact with Biff Towley, the very night that The Shadow had listened to the schemes of Glade Tremont and

A new man was being called in by the plotters; and that man was The Shadow's emissary. Biff Towley had

found two who would do. He and Glade Tremont had made their choice Pinkey Baird.

But circumstances had altered that decision. Pinkey Baird was not to be their man. Instead, Cliff Marsland

CLIFF MARSLAND was seated on a broad veranda, smoking a cigarette. Before him was a wide lawn that

ended in a thick clump of trees, cleaved by a narrow road. Beyond that were the rolling mountainsides of the

Cliff leaned his head back in his chair and let his eyes rove straight upward. There he saw a wall of gray

stone, topped by a thick, projecting turret. This huge building was a replica of a medieval castle.

A remarkable place, this large estate situated three miles from the town of Glendale. Cliff had first spied it

It had amazed him then, the graywalled building with its squat wings and uneven battlements. It looked like

the fortress of a baron of the Middle Ages a sight that would have been commonplace in Europe, yet which

It had not taken Cliff long to learn the history of the place. It had been built by a wealthy railroad magnate,

some forty years before, and had been disposed of by his heirs. The name "Glamartin" was still inscribed

Now it was the residence of Ivan Orlinov, wealthy Russian of the czarist realm, who had become a

To the casual observer, Orlinov's castle was a secluded and placid place. The estate comprised some thirty

acres, fenced with a highspiked iron fence, well posted with signs that forbade trespassing.

Besides this barrier, Orlinov employed the services of more than a dozen men, who served in various

Gardeners, chauffeurs, cooks, and butlers these were the positions that they occupied.

But Cliff, even if he had not been informed beforehand, would have immediately recognized their true

caliber. He knew graduates of the underworld when he saw them. Every man in Orlinov's retinue was a

There was a gun on every hip. The gardeners carried weapons; so did the cook. As Cliff shifted his position,

he felt his own revolver bulge against his side. For although he was technically Orlinov's secretary, he was

also an appointed member of the crew of armed henchmen whose vigilance was never ending.

It had been Biff Towley's task to supply Orlinov with retainers, and the New York gang leader had done his

work well. Every one of these underlings took orders direct from the Russian. Each man had his own duties,

Every man had a good reason for being satisfied here, living easy and away from the besetting difficulties of

Manhattan. Had anyone attempted mutiny, the others would have swarmed upon him in an instant.

IN this transplanted realm of gangdom, Cliff Marsland was biding his time. He had duties here, other than

those which Biff Towley had planned for him. While he appeared to be answerable to Biff alone, he was

But he knew that his usefulness would cease the moment that he betrayed his hand. For that reason, Cliff

Marsland was playing a waiting game. Already he had learned a few facts of interest. He was holding them

There was mystery here in Orlinov's castle; and so far, Cliff had not been able to penetrate it.

The huge building was divided into three sections, the narrow central portion and the two side wings. The left

portion of the house was where the majority of the men resided, Cliff among them. Ivan Orlinov and two of

There, Cliff knew, Orlinov had a laboratory and a workshop, His only assistant outside of the mobsters

was a taciturn Russian called Petri, who never left that portion of the house. The wing could be entered only

On the surface, it seemed likely that Orlinov was merely a suspicious inventor who feared that someone

might steal the fruits of his creative mind; but Cliff thought differently. Unless Orlinov feared the law itself,

How did affairs at this place concern The Shadow? That was a question Cliff Marsland could not answer.

When he had arrived here, he had wondered why there had been no action. The presence of the armed force

was not sufficient to restrain The Shadow. Cliff had known that remarkable man to fight his way through

But as time progressed, Cliff, although he had found no solution to the mysteries here, had gained an inkling

Somehow, Orlinov must possess the key to an amazing scheme of crime. One false step by The Shadow

might mean disaster to any attempt to frustrate the evil. Furthermore, Cliff's own experience with Biff

Towley indicated that matters here were linked with events in New York. Well did Cliff know that The

The one point that Cliff had particularly observed was that of Orlinov's correspondence. Most of it had been

addressed to Glade Tremont, a New York attorney, who represented the Russian in all his legal affairs.

This appeared to be a bona fide arrangement that might have no connection with crime, yet the connection

While thus engaged in summarizing his experiences and findings in one week, Cliff Marsland heard a footfall

on the porch and turned his head to see Ivan Orlinov approaching. The Russian seated himself and looked in

IVAN ORLINOV possessed an appearance that was both brutal and imposing. He was a big bulk of a man,

with a countenance that was cold and stolid. He wore a closecropped reddish beard, which Petri trimmed for

His eyes, deep set between halfclosed lids, had a habit of opening at unexpected moments. When they did,

This afternoon, Orlinov was mild and deliberate. He seemed in a thoughtful mood as he puffed a huge black

cigar. His auburn beard glistened in the light. The man spoke pleasantly as he turned to Cliff.

"Well, Marslandt" the voice was deep and marked with a distinctly foreign accent "you haff been here

"That is goot," declared Orlinov. "I hope you haff liked it. You are to stay a long while, you know."

Orlinov's eyes opened momentarily; then closed as the Russian continued in a reflective tone.

"I may haff a visitor tonight," he said. "It iss very important that we should not be disturbed. You

"Yess. He wass a man who spoke Russian, which was goot. But he wass a man who made mistakes. Not like

"One mistake is too many for a man to make," observed Cliff, as he extracted a fresh cigarette from a pack.

"I am glad you tink like that," declared Orlinov. "That iss because you haff come from the right man. I do not

like mistakes. They bring trouble and that trouble comes to those who haff made the mistakes. You

Ivan Orlinov laughed gruffly. He seemed pleased with Cliff's statement. He arose and gave parting

"This man will come here for dinner," he explained. "He iss Mr. Tremont, my lawyer from New York. You

shall meet him, Marslandt. But when I wish to speak to him in private, you shall go. You understandt?"

"There iss much for me that you can do," added Orlinov. "But it iss wise that you should be here a long time

first. I haff been very careful in the past. When one man tries to know those things which he should not know,

Cliff nodded shortly and watched while Orlinov walked back toward the door of the big house.

The intended visit of Glade Tremont interested him deeply. Orlinov had received a letter from the lawyer that

AFTERNOON was waning. A car swung around the corner of the house and ran along the narrow roadway

toward the clump of trees. It was bound for the station, in all probability, to meet Glade Tremont when he

Whatever the lawyer's business might be with Orlinov, Cliff Marsland was determined to learn it tonight.

Something important must be in the air; otherwise Tremont would not find it necessary to come up from New

Perhaps the lawyer represented the Russian in legitimate enterprises. Nevertheless, anything that might be

discussed would at least give a clew to what was happening in this castlelike mansion.

Cliff Marsland arose from his reclining chair. He had nothing to do until the evening. So far as Orlinov was

concerned, his work was ended for the day unless there might be some details to prepare for Glade

Tremont. But tonight loomed very important in Cliff Marsland's mind. He sensed that this would be his first

Stepping to the front of the porch, Cliff flung his cigarette on the lawn. He turned toward the big building,

and his sidelong gaze wandered to the wing at the right. Therein lay the secret of this place. Before his work

The sun was setting over a mountain, and the cold gloom of night was spreading its haze about these gray

walls. The sullen turrets spoke of crime and mystery. Soon they would be dark and shadowy.

There was a prophetic touch to the scene. To Cliff, the growing dusk bespoke the presence of a living shadow

a man who lived within the night. Cliff was here because The Shadow knew that all was not well within

Crime, but suspected only by The Shadow! Was it crime of the past or crime of the future? Cliff smiled

grimly as he entered the high front door and strode across the darkening hallway.

Tonight, if all went well, The Shadow would learn of plots that were transpiring here. He would learn of them

It was evening. Three men were seated in the living room of Ivan Orlinov's abode. One was the Russian; the

Tremont had arrived before dinner. He had been introduced to Cliff by Orlinov. Cliff had caught the shrewd,

penetrating glance of the lawyer, and it had placed him immediately upon his guard.

From that moment, Cliff had sensed that Tremont knew all about his presence here. He saw a connection

Yet now a lulling silence had fallen. The discussion during dinner had been of little consequence. Here in the

living room, the men were seated before a glowing fire, for evenings brought chill in this region of high

altitude. Tremont was speaking of the difficulties that went with the patenting of new inventions; but he was

At last the subject changed. Tremont, glancing from the corner of his eye, looked toward Cliff Marsland, who

"Well, Mr. Orlinov," said the lawyer, "I am glad that the last apparatus you received has proven satisfactory.

Here, as in the sunlight, Orlinov's beard was glistening. It had the ruddy glow of burnished gold. The man's

In that face, Cliff detected a new expression a determined brutality that gave the Russian the appearance of

"Come," said Orlinov. He turned to Cliff. "You will stay here, Marslandt. I have business a private business

The men crossed the living room, and Cliff seemed indifferent to their departure. He fancied that questioning

looks would be directed back toward him, but he paid no attention. Instead, he stared directly at the fire.

He knew where those men were going. Through the iron door that led to the mystery wing of this house.

Cliff Marsland played hunches. He was a man of action. He had gained his craving for excitement on the

battlefields of France. He had continued it in the service of The Shadow. Inactivity wearied him. He was most

Yet he also possessed a reasoning mind. He knew from what both Biff Towley and Ivan Orlinov had told him

Cliff pictured a situation very much like this one a man, left alone in the living room, while the others,

probably the very two who had just departed, went away to discuss matters of importance. Cliff's predecessor

That, instead of being a restraint to Cliff Marsland, was an incentive. So far, Orlinov had trusted him. Cliff

was armed, and capable of taking care of himself. There was only one reason for caution.

He must not reveal his game because of The Shadow. Nevertheless, Cliff was determined to make use of the

THIS living room was in the center portion of the house. It led directly to the hall. There was no reason why

In the hall, he observed the door that led to the mystery wing. The door was a sliding one, and it was partly

Cliff laughed softly. He saw it as a trap. Idly, he lighted a cigarette and sauntered to the front door, where he

Two courses seemed apparent. One was to go back and enter that open door. That, to Cliff meant certain

trouble. It was too obviously a test to sound him out. The other course was to do nothing; to be content with

Neither of these plans appealed. Cliff sought a scheme that would have the advantage of both and the

Somewhere, there, Tremont and Orlinov were in conference. Cliff wondered what The Shadow would do if

However, the thought brought inspiration. Cliff's problem was to enter the mysterious section of the house

without going through the open door. Scaling the wall would be a dangerous task. The windows of the

ground floor were barred; those above were likewise protected. Furthermore, Cliff knew that watchful men

Then he thought of the turrets. Two of them, large and imposing, towered above the front of the house. There

Between them were battlements high walls of stone that copied the pattern of grim, oldtime fortresses.

Nonchalantly, Cliff sauntered back into the house and hummed softly as he strolled into the living room.

There his manner changed. He peered into the deserted hall, to make sure that no one was watching from that

partly opened door. The inspection convinced him that whoever might be lying in wait was well past the

Softly, Cliff stole to the rear of the hall, and ascended the steps that led to the second floor.

This was a littleused portion of the house. It had no connection with any portion other than the central

At the front of the second story were two doors, one for each of the disused turrets. Cliff tried the door on the

side toward the mystery wing. He found it locked, but not formidably. He opened it with a skeleton key, and

ascended a winding stairway, which terminated in a small room within the expanding turret.

Here, Cliff found an uncased window. He slipped through it and dropped quickly to the roof behind a

battlement. He made his way to the nearest of the smaller turrets. This had a narrow, slitlike opening,

He was in a small room, and as he walked across it, the floor yielded slightly beneath his feet. That indicated

The trap opened upward. Cliff descended a cylindrical shaft of stone by means of a metal ladder. At the

It required careful probing with the key before he managed to unlock the barrier. Then Cliff found himself in

THERE was need for caution now. Instinctively, Cliff gripped the handle of his revolver. The weapon would

serve him handily, if he should encounter Petri or either of the two mobsters who lived in this section of the

Both sides of the corridor were lined with heavy, closed doors. At last, Cliff reached a stairway.

Descending, he came to the ground floor, where the steps ended. Peering along the corridor to the central part

The sliding door was merely the first barrier. Had he entered it, he would have found but one way to leave

through the door from the center of the house. It was a perfect trap; but Cliff had avoided it. Now he felt

There were few doors here, and side passages led from the single corridor. Cliff went to each door in turn. At

last he found the one he wanted. The dull sound of voices was audible, and as Cliff listened, he distinguished

the tones of Ivan Orlinov and Glade Tremont. Oddly enough, their words referred to him.

"That man wass bad," agreed Orlinov. "This one he iss goot. But I must wait until a while. Then I can make

"You aren't taking chances with him, though. That is best, until he has been here a few months. That's a nice

trap you have if he gets curious. Petri could let that sliding door close in a second.

"I don't think there will be trouble, however. Biff Towley picks men who are reliable."

Cliff smiled as he fingered his revolver. He enjoyed this situation. Now he was hearing new information.

"Not tomorrow," corrected Tremont. "The next night. Matt Hartley is coming to my home. He will be there at

"It was fortunate that I learned of them and arranged to give him advice. Owing to the circumstances, he is

"He will play his part. Don't worry, Ivan. You will get your next shipment. It may be the last, unless "

There was a slight stir in the room and Cliff drew back along the passage. He was thinking as he went.

He had heard of Matt Hartley. The man was an inventive genius in the field of aviation. He had made tests to

develop new forms of aerial torpedoes, and had gained considerable publicity through his experiments.

Despite the delay that he had experienced in getting here, Cliff had arrived in time to hear a vital portion of

the conversation. He knew that something was to be done concerning Matt Hartley. It would happen two

The door of the room was opening, but Cliff had reached a point of safety. He was hiding in a short, black

passage, between the room where he had listened and the stairway. He was confronted now with a problem

What if the two men returned to the living room and found him missing? It would require some time for him

to get back through the turrets. Then he would have to descend the main staircase into the face of danger.

Cliff was pondering futilely. The problem seemed insurmountable. But while he was disturbed by his

INSTEAD of returning along the corridor to the distant central door, Tremont and Orlinov were approaching

If they came down this short passage there would be only one course to fight it out and flee for safety. Cliff

Then the men's forms passed by the end of the passage, and the menace was ended. A few moments later,

They had taken the very avenue which he must follow to elude them! Cliff was now between two dangers.

Petri at the door to the center of the house; Orlinov and Tremont on the second floor of the wing.

Then it occurred to the waiting man that Orlinov and Tremont might intend to stop at one of the rooms on the

second floor. Tremont had said something about viewing Orlinov's work. Cliff saw the opportunity he

Boldly, he came from his hiding place and approached the stairs. He stole softly upward. The corridor above

Cliff hurried along the passage until he came to the door of the little turret. He entered and carefully locked

Up in the turret, he squeezed through the slit and scrambled along behind the protecting battlement. His last

Then the course was easy. Down the spiral stairway a door locked behind him the central staircase.

Within two minutes, Cliff was gliding across the main hall into the living room. His clothes were dusty from

the stone. He brushed them at the fireplace. Then he dropped into his chair and lighted a cigarette.

After a few moments, Cliff was comfortably settled. He drew a sheet of paper and an envelope from his

With a fountain pen, he inscribed a coded message in clear blue ink the fluid which was used in all The

Cliff was on his third cigarette when he heard Orlinov and Tremont returning. The two entered to find Cliff

"Mr. Tremont iss leaving on the next train," informed Orlinov. "We shall go with him to the station. Yess.

Orlinov pressed a button on the wall. A few minutes later, the abrupt honk of a horn was heard from the front

of the house. Orlinov arose, and both Tremont and Cliff followed him. A limousine was waiting outside,

CLIFF was elated as they rode toward Glendale. This was a great break. He had anticipated no difficulty in

getting to the station on the morrow, for he had previously been sent with the chauffeur to get the mail. But

tonight in time for the last train that worked in direct accordance with plans which he had been given by

The Shadow. The big car pulled up by the station. Cliff alighted with Tremont and Orlinov. The two men

Cliff, as he strolled beside them, was positive that Orlinov was watching him, and that he was also under

scrutiny from the gangster in the car. Cliff smiled to himself. His opportunity would be here soon. He waited

until the headlight of the New York express came glowing down the track. His left hand slipped in his pocket.

It emerged holding the folded envelope. Cliff's body was turned so that neither Orlinov nor the man in the car

It was at that moment that a young man idling on the station platform arose and moved past Cliff. Their

hands met, and as the stranger continued, it was he not Cliff Marsland who carried the folded envelope.

Calmly and deliberately, Cliff Marsland had passed his message to Clyde Burke, whom The Shadow had

stationed in Glendale for this purpose. Constantly in the neighborhood of the station, Clyde was ready for any

But Cliff did more. As Burke moved onward, Orlinov's new secretary raised his left hand to his hip. His

The signal meant that the message was intended for The Shadow, that it should be taken directly to him.

Thus it was that two passengers left Glendale that night each bound on a mission. Crosspurposes were

involved. Glade Tremont was on his way to prepare for some new crime. Clyde Burke was taking

Cliff Marsland thought of the situation as he rode back to Orlinov's castle, along with the silent Russian.

Tonight, two men had plotted, not knowing they were overheard. Their plans were doomed to failure.

A TINY spot of light was glowing in a darkened room. The shadow of a hand passed over the spot of

illumination. A telephone clicked. The light went out. A low, whispered voice spoke through the darkness.

Although it was pitchblack in this windowless room, daylight had not yet waned outside. The afternoon was

just drawing to a close. Tonight was the time when Glade Tremont and Matt Hartley were to meet at the

Through Burbank, the only man who contacted regularly with him by phone, The Shadow had learned that

Matt Hartley was still in flight out of Mineola. The famous aviation expert had left at noon for a test of one of

Now a light appeared in the corner of the room. It revealed a small table upon which rested various small

articles of makeup. The Shadow seated himself before the table, but only his white hands appeared within

the sphere of light. The hands appeared with what seemed to be a thin mask of wire gauze, no more than a

skeleton framework filled with a few solid patches. The object disappeared as it was raised into the dark.

The hands worked with other articles. Then the top of the table swung upward in the center, the various

objects remaining at the sides. A mirror came into view, on the under surface, which was now vertical. On the

Into the range of the light came a head and a strange, weird reflection from the mirror. It was the image of a

man who seemed to have no face! Guised with the colorless surface of the thin mask, only The Shadow's eyes

The hands came into action. The long fingers moved here and there about the table, finding the objects that

they needed. Upon the artificial base, the semblance of a human countenance was slowly forming. At last it

Still, the work continued, the everactive fingers plying at their task. Then came the final result. Staring from

The Shadow's laugh resounded. He had fitted himself with a perfect disguise so deceptive that even the

The mirror disappeared as the top of the table swung downward. On the vacant surface, The Shadow's hands

placed a sheet of paper. It was the list of names that had been prepared before.

After the word "aeronautics," the hand of The Shadow inscribed the name of Matt Hartley. Then came a soft

IT was after dark when a figure appeared near the house where Glade Tremont lived. The lawyer's home was

situated some distance from an avenue that ran near the shore of Long Island Sound. The house was

The stranger who had arrived in this vicinity was scarcely more than a phantom shape. Silently, almost

invisibly, he glided along the street in front of the lawyer's home. Then his tall form merged with the

Two whispered voices were engaged in conversation. The speakers did not know that they were being

"There's a guy we've got to get, Jake. We're taking no chances on missing him. Your spot is right here. If you

"Plenty of others. They're all posted, like you. That's why I don't want any of you to leave your places. I'll be

"I'll take care of that. You're after snoopers. That's all. Grab them and give them the rod if you have to."

"Not one within half a mile," he declared. "Forget about that. This is a big job tonight. Get anybody that tries

to sneak in or to sneak out. If a car comes up the drive, or if anyone comes deliberately up the walk, leave

With these closing words, Biff Towley emerged from the shrubbery, and made his way across the lawn,

JAKE BOSCH watched the house. The front walk was on this side; the driveway on the other. He did not

know the reason in back of tonight's vigil, and he did not care. It was his job to be alert, and to obey orders.

There was a patch of light close by the side wall of the house. Watching it, Jake saw a streak of blackness

Jake decided that it was merely the moving shadow of a tree. He did not know that he had caught a fleeting

A huddled gangster, crouching near the back porch, saw that same shape. His view was a closer one than

Jake's. This toughened sentinel fancied that he had caught sight of a human form. He rose beside the wall,

Then, out of the thick night came two sinister hands. One caught the gangster's wrist. The other, swinging

sidewise, struck sharply against the mobsman's throat. With a gurgling gasp, the watcher collapsed. His gun

There was a cellar window not four feet away. It opened inward under the pressure of an unseen hand. The

body of the senseless gangster was forced through. It hung suspended; then slumped to the floor beneath.

A tiny flashlight flickered, its rays submerged within the depths of the cellar. A soft laugh sounded. Hands in

the dark bound and gagged the captured hoodlum. One of Biff Towley's trusted watchdogs had failed in his

There was a soft, swishing sound by the cellar stairs. The door at the top was locked; but its lock gave as an

unseen hand applied a tiny metal instrument. The door opened. The Shadow advanced through the silent

There was a light in the front hall. Crouching low, The Shadow at last came into view, but he could not be

seen from the outside. He was garbed in his cloak of black. Upon his head, he wore the slouch hat that

Looking right and left, The Shadow swung rapidly up the stairs. His cloak swished, and for an instant its

crimson lining was revealed. Then the mysterious figure disappeared in the gloom of the second story, until

he reached a room where a single light was burning. This was Glade Tremont's study. The room was empty.

Again, The Shadow moved in crouching fashion. He reached a corner of the room, by the door of a closet. A

tall bookcase projected to the spot where the edge of the door would reach when opened. The Shadow's

crouching form raised upward. It merged beside the end of the bookcase, until it became a motionless shape

Out of the night he had come. Silently he had passed through the outer group of watching gangsters. One man

had fallen by his hand. Now, at the desired place, he was waiting, ready to frustrate the plans of Glade

Tonight, he wore a remarkable disguise. His face was the face of the lawyer in whose home he now stood!

The Shadow was dealing with supercrooks men who left no traces of their evil deeds. Beside them, Biff

It would be a game of wits tonight the brain of The Shadow pitting itself against the minds of master

criminals. For the first time in this strange struggle, The Shadow would meet one of his enemies face to face.

Glade Tremont would soon be here. The crafty lawyer had arranged a conference with Matt Hartley an

intended victim of his plotting. Like Doctor Gerald Savette, he was bent on the perpetration of insidious

But tonight, Glade Tremont was to meet with the surprise of his life. Before this evening was ended, he

SEATED in the living room of Ivan Orlinov's castle, Cliff Marsland was reviewing past events. His mind

reverted to the events of two nights ago, when he had made his crafty visit to the side wing of the strange

Since then, Cliff had been chafing because of his idleness. He had done nothing since he had given his

message to Clyde Burke. He could do nothing until he received some reply. Above all, he must restrain

In New York, Glade Tremont was to meet Matt Hartley. That meeting held some sinister purpose. The

Shadow had been warned of it. The outcome, therefore, would be to Glade Tremont's disadvantage.

Meanwhile, Cliff must play his waiting game. It would be unwise for him to repeat his trip to the forbidden

territory in the side wing of the house. Much though Cliff desired the excitement of another expedition, he

could not afford to take chances that might bring an encounter with Ivan Orlinov or his henchmen.

Cliff had a very definite hunch that there was more of interest in this house than a mere laboratory or

workshop. When circumstances would permit it, he intended definitely to learn the secret which Ivan Orlinov

He recalled the Russian's face as he had seen it by the firelight two nights ago. The mere recollection made

While Cliff was picturing Orlinov, the man himself stepped into the room. Cliff looked up inquiringly. The

Russian smiled pleasantly. He sat down and stared mildly at his secretary. Then he began to speak in a

"Plenty different." Orlinov repeated Cliff's expression with a laugh. "You haff been here one week,

Marslandt. It iss time now that I told you many things, so that you can be of more help to me. Yess?"

"There are places here that I would like for you to see," continued the Russian. "Come. I shall show you

They left the living room and crossed the hall. The door to the wing was open. With a bow, the huge Russian

CLIFF restrained his enthusiasm. While he had been thinking of a visit here, he had not hoped to make it so

soon. He looked about him as they passed the second door, and pretended to view the corridor as though he

"There iss something strange for you to see," declared Orlinov. "It iss not here. It iss on the floor up above.

They reached the stairs and went up to the second story. There Orlinov stopped before a closed door. Cliff

noticed something now that be had not observed before, when he had been in haste to travel through the

passage. This door as well as the others on the floor was fitted with a crossshaped paneling that had a

Orlinov pronounced the word like the name Luke. Cliff was too interested to even notice the tone of the

The Russian's finger was on the square center of the panel. A slight press, and the square dropped, revealing a

He saw a beautifully furnished room apparently one of a suite, for there was an open door beyond it. The

room was carpeted with thick Oriental rugs. A huge bookcase stood filled with massive volumes. The

These features were of small interest to Cliff. His eyes were focused upon the inhabitant of the apartment. An

elderly man was seated at a writing desk, tracing lines upon a sheet of paper. He appeared to have no interest

Orlinov drew Cliff away from the opening. He closed the panel. He beckoned, and Cliff followed him to

another door. Here a panel dropped, and Cliff viewed another room, less elegant in its furnishings.

This room also contained an occupant. He was a foreigner, a largeheaded man with a bushy beard that

He was wearing a pair of large spectacles. He was seated in front of a chessboard, studying the positions of

A third panel was opened for inspection. This room was a virtual duplicate of the second. A

stoopshouldered, grayhaired man was pondering over a large book. He was making notations on a pad that

lay beside him. He was the first to realize that he was being watched. He turned suddenly about and looked at

Orlinov closed the panel, and conducted Cliff along the corridor. He allowed brief inspections of other rooms.

Orlinov maintained a cryptic silence. Cliff pondered. He followed the Russian to the first floor.

There, Orlinov opened the doors of other rooms. These were workshops and laboratories, each fitted out in

excellent style. Another apartment contained a vast array of bookcases and filing cabinets a veritable

Finally, Orlinov led the way to the very room where Cliff had listened to the talk between the Russian and

Glade Tremont. This proved to be a simply furnished office Orlinov motioned for Cliff to sit down.

THE Russian took a standing position at the other side of the room. Cliff watched him, wondering. He was

completely puzzled by the strange sights that he had witnessed. He felt sure that Orlinov was about to give an

"They appeared to be," responded Cliff, knowing that Orlinov referred to the men upstairs.

"It iss well," said Orlinov. "They can haff comfort if they wish it. If they do not, they can haff trouble."

Cliff accepted this ominous statement without making a response. He was anxious to hear Orlinov talk, but

"Few haff seen them there," declared Orlinov. "Yess. Few haff seen them. That would not be wise. Do you

"Because," Orlinov was speaking solemnly, "those men are dead. Dead! Yess! They are dead men."

The thought chilled Cliff Marsland to the marrow. His teeth clenched, and his face hardened, as he stared at

Ivan Orlinov. Had the huge Russian gone crazy? His tone was serious; his expression had been positive.

A strange, wild glow had come into Orlinov's eyes. Cliff began to rise from his chair, thinking that he was

dealing with a maniac. Then the Russian motioned him back with an imperious gesture. Orlinov's face

"When dead men liff," declared the Russian slowly, "there must be a reason. Yess? I shall tell you what iss

the reason. Those men haff been useful. Iss it not nice to know that because you haff been useful, you can liff

Cliff was staring hard at Orlinov. He did not like the peculiar emphasis in the man's tone. It seemed that every

remark was directed toward himself. Cliff sensed a dangerous situation developing. He remained calm in

"I haff told you what those men haff been," resumed Orlinov. "I haff told you that they haff been dead. You

would like to know who they haff been? Giff me that pen from your pocket. Then can I write the names of

Cliff's hand was moving toward his vest pocket. He realized suddenly that his fountain pen was gone. It was

the pen that he had used in writing his message to The Shadow the pen filled with the special ink that

REALIZATION dawned. Cliff knew that Orlinov was tricking him. His hand slipped away from his vest

pocket, reaching for the handy revolver. Something cold pressed against the back of Cliff's neck. It was the

muzzle of a gun. He knew that another move would mean instant death. He paused and waited.

"Ah!" exclaimed Orlinov, with a leering grin. "You are too wise to move. That iss goot for you. You were

not so wise to sit with your back toward that door. It iss Petri who holds that gun against you.

"You tink that you are wise, perhaps. You haff made a great mistake. Remember what you haff told me that

one mistake can be too much. Why did you leave that fountain pen so carelessly?"

The Russian's voice took on a tone of sarcastic reproach as he chided his victim.

"Yess" resumed Orlinov, "I haff found that pen this morning. I haff written with it. That iss strange writing

that goes away so quick. Perhaps you haff found out too much. Perhaps you haff told someone. That iss why I

haff talked to you tonight. You haff seen those men who still liff. That iss because you, too, will soon be one

"When a man iss bad for us, we kill him. But not if he iss to be of use. It may be that you will be of use. It

Cliff's face was obdurate. He expected Orlinov to question him, now that he was suspected of a plot. The

Russian's eyes were blazing, and Cliff detected a suppressed frenzy there. Let the man try, thought Cliff. He

Orlinov seemed to be reading Cliff's thoughts. He laughed as he rose and came closer. His eyes stared toward

"You will say nothing? Goot! It does not matter. If you haff learned nothing, it can do no harm. If you haff

heard last night that will be no goot. We haff made things so that it can not matter."

His shrewd eyes were watching to see if Cliff betrayed alarm. Orlinov would gain nothing by his survey of

"You tink that you are strong?" he questioned. "You tink that you are wise? We shall see of that. You haff

been sent here by someone. There iss just one man that it could be. That iss the man they call The Shadow."

"You tink that you will not talk," laughed Orlinov. "That iss not needed now. That chance you will haff some

time after this if it iss needed. You will know then how I haff found the way to make people talk.

"There iss one thing that can keep you from trying to be wise. You haff seen the men who haff once died.

They keep quiet now. Yess, they haff known what it iss to die. So you shall see the same. My goot friend, the

Lacking understanding, Cliff expected to receive a revolver shot from the man stationed behind him. But as

Ivan Orlinov approached and stood beside him, Cliff realized that something different was to take place.

Orlinov was speaking quietly, now, except for guttural chuckles that interrupted his words.

"Yess," he was saying, "if this man, The Shadow, hass tried to make trouble, he iss too late. He will find

trouble for himself. So it may be that we shall not find you to be of use to us. We shall see."

THE words made Cliff tighten his lips. He realized now that there had been ample time for Orlinov to

By a mere chance, the Russian had picked up Cliff's pen. Thus had he divined the reason for Cliff's presence

here. Orlinov Tremont and a third whom the Russian called the doctor all were superfiends. The plot

against Matt Hartley was not scheduled until tonight. Cliff knew well that Glade Tremont was now cognizant

Instant death threatened Cliff Marsland if he dared to move. He was staring straight ahead, seeing neither

Orlinov nor Petri. He did not see the bearded Russian's hand approach his arm, carrying a tiny, shining object

The sharp point of a hypodermic needle stung Cliff's arm. He sat motionless, still staring. He felt a strange,

unexplainable weakness. The room was growing black about him. His body swayed. He forgot the pressure

Orlinov laughed as Cliff Marsland's body slumped in the chair and became rigid. Cliff heard that laugh from

Orlinov stood looking at the form in the chair. To all appearances Cliff Marsland was dead. The same fate

had befallen him as that which had been the lot of Clark Murdock, when the chemist had struggled with

A laugh came from the Russian's bearded lips. In his native tongue, he spoke to Petri, the stalwart servant

who still stood with gun in hand. Petri answered. He and Orlinov picked up Cliff Marsland's body from the

Together they took their burden up the stairs to the second floor, Heavy though Cliff was, the Russians

Orlinov ordered his man to set the body on the floor. Then the bearded Russian unlocked a door that led to

one of the smaller rooms. The two men carried the rigid form into the apartment and placed it upon a couch

There was no indication that Cliff Marsland still lived. A corpselike pallor had settled on his face. But Ivan

Orlinov, leering hideously, showed more interest in that form than he would have wasted upon a mere corpse.

It was nearly ten o'clock when a trim coupe swung up the driveway by Glade Tremont's home. The lights of

the car went out. Glade Tremont stepped to the ground, and entered the side door of the house. The lawyer

When Tremont reached his upstairs study, he turned on a light by the desk. He looked about the room.

Though his glance was keen, it did not detect that shadowy shape that stood beyond the bookcase.

The lawyer walked over to the closet and opened the door. In so doing, he passed within two feet of The

The closet door, swinging wide, formed a barrier between Tremont and The Shadow. The lawyer left the door

Slow minutes went by. Glade Tremont was apparently waiting for the arrival of a visitor. Ten o'clock came.

"Hello?" he questioned. "Yes. This is Mr. Tremont... Ah Matt Hartley?... I've been expecting you... Fifteen

minutes? Yes, indeed. I shall be here... You have your car? Come right up the drive by the house. Look out

The lawyer's voice dwindled. He replaced the receiver on the hook, and his cold, stern features took on a

Resting back in his chair, Tremont half closed his eyes and folded his hands across his chest. He seemed to be

Thus unobservant, the lawyer did not notice a long shadow that stretched across the floor toward the outer

edge of the desk. A form followed that streak of black. The Shadow glided from his hiding place. Tall and

Glade Tremont opened his eyes. He looked upward and blinked. Before him stood the man in black, a

fantastic being conjured from nothingness. The flowing cloak, the broadbrimmed hat these formed the

Tremont saw the glow of two menacing eyes. He observed the muzzle of a powerful automatic, poised in a

Fiends of crime had quailed before that figure. The Shadow, mysterious avenger, had brought shudders to the

stoutest frames. Yet Glade Tremont gave no sign of a perturbed spirit. Instead, he stared boldly at The

"Good evening," remarked the lawyer quietly. "I have been anticipating your arrival here."

THE SHADOW made no response. Glade Tremont, despite his quiet assurance, knew that a false move

would mean his doom. The lawyer remained in his posture of affected calm, leaning back in his swivel chair,

He had spoken the truth. He had expected The Shadow here. But, though prepared for the meeting, though

emboldened by a sense of bravado, Tremont was finding The Shadow a more menacing personage than he

It was with an effort that the lawyer preserved his pretended ease. His words, intended to nonplus The

"Yes," declared Tremont, "I have expected you. I have heard of you, and I decided that you might come here

tonight. You have come to protect Matt Hartley. In that, I assure you, you have failed."

The sound of his own voice gave Glade Tremont a feeling of reassurance. His forced smile became a genuine

one. Although he feared The Shadow, he knew that the man in black would hear him out so long as he did

"You have sought to pry into my affairs," announced Glade Tremont. "You have succeeded to a degree.

The lawyer stared into the glowing eyes. They were focused directly toward him. Tremont knew that those

burning optics were keen enough to ferret out a falsehood. But tonight, Tremont with malicious shrewdness,

was relying on the truth. He met the fiery stare and continued his speech in a low tone.

"I prepared a trap for you," declared the lawyer. "How you eluded it is more than I can understand. But it is a

trap that works two ways. Had you fallen into it when you came here, you would now be in my power.

"I suspected that you might pass my sentinels. I doubt that you can escape them again. You cannot leave this

Subtly, the lawyer was endeavoring to bait The Shadow. His tone was convincing. Although his mind was

disturbed by vague qualms, Tremont managed to assure himself that he actually held The Shadow within his

Right now, the situation lay in the balance. Tremont, with his artificial smile, felt sure that it would turn to his

"Two nights ago," the lawyer said. "I announced my plan to effect the capture of a man named Matt Hartley. I

told that plan to one person only a man named Ivan Orlinov, at Glendale in the Catskills.

"With Orlinov is a man who calls himself Cliff Marsland. Today, Orlinov discovered a mysterious object in

Marsland's possession a fountain pen filled with ink that vanished after it was used for writing.

"Orlinov did not know the significance of that fluid. Nevertheless, he called me at my office. I understood. I

have heard of the mysterious messages of The Shadow. My contact with the underworld is not a slight one."

Tremont paused and moistened his parched lips. He continued with his careful story, watching The Shadow

"I suspected," said Tremont, "that Marsland might have overheard what was said at Glendale. So I made new

plans. This afternoon, Matt Hartley took off on a testing flight. In response to my suggestion, he landed,

alone, at an obscure field in the Catskills. There he expected to meet me. He encountered certain others,

"Tomorrow, the world will know that Matt Hartley is dead. His plane has been blown to atoms on that

landing field. Foolishly so the world will believe he carried a loaded torpedo to make a test. It loosened

Encouraged by the shrewdness of his remarks, Tremont grinned derisively. The silence of The Shadow

"I have just come from my office," added Tremont. "There I received a longdistance call from Ivan Orlinov.

Your agent the man called Marsland is in his power. To all intents, Marsland is dead. He will continue

The Shadow's long, dark cloak moved slightly. It was the first indication of action that the man of mystery

"Why try to thwart our plans?" questioned Tremont. "I am not alone. We have power which you cannot

afford to combat. I offer you fair terms. We have preserved the lives of certain men, because we have found it

advantageous to do so. Your man Marsland is of no use to us. Nor will the others be of use, if we are

"While you remain inactive, those men will live your man among them. But should you move so much as a

"I have heard it said" Tremont laughed huskily "that the agents of The Shadow bear charmed lives, like

their master. This time, one is virtually dead. He can come to life, at my order. It is for you to decide."

The lawyer waited for The Shadow to speak. The man in the cloak seemed to be considering the matter.

"Should I die," added Tremont, as an afterthought, "you will defeat your own aim. My life is on one side of

the scales. Marsland's life and the lives of the other men there is the counterbalance!

"I can assure you that all are watchful; both here in New York and at Glendale. It is impossible for you to

"Orlinov is a man of steel. He is a spark, ready to ignite a magazine. Puff! All could be gone lives,

"Should you or any of your emissaries dare to approach the place from now on, Orlinov will not hesitate to

strike. Our plans are nearing their culmination. Let them proceed, and your man Marsland will be restored to

you, alive. Try to frustrate our methods, and he will die. Perhaps you, too, will perish."

THUS did Glade Tremont conclude his oration. As spokesmen for two other villains, Ivan Orlinov and

Doctor Gerald Savette, he had done his work well. His proposal was one that The Shadow could hardly fail to

Tremont felt that he had taken the measure of The Shadow. He knew that the man of the dark was not an

agent of the law. He was dealing with a man who had freedom to act or to stand by, as he might prefer.

"One point more," added Tremont, as a quiet afterthought. "Perhaps you may have a wild dream of killing me

and making a mad escape through the human wall that protects this house. That would be futile.

"Unless my chief companion sees me tonight, Orlinov will be told to strike. I must leave this house. I must be

alive. I must keep a definite appointment. When I receive the phone call for the meeting I shall set the time."

The Shadow offered no response. He stood unmoving, waiting as the minutes went by. Tremont wondered for

a while then realized that The Shadow was testing the truth of his statement. The Shadow was waiting for that

Let him wait, thought Tremont. The minutes no longer seemed anxious. When the phone bell would sound,

The bell tinkled. With a quiet glance at The Shadow, Tremont reached forward and lifted the receiver. He

"Yes, this is Glade," said the lawyer. "He is here... The man I expected... All will be well... Yes, he has

listened to my terms... I shall see you before midnight... At your home... Be careful and ready. You know the

Tremont hung up the telephone and looked at The Shadow. He was positive that his enemy did not know who

Tremont had weighed the situation carefully. He knew that he was covered; that Orlinov had been watched.

But Savette, he felt sure, was too well secluded to be suspected of complicity by The Shadow.

A soft, shuddering laugh came from the man in black. More terrifying than his presence alone, the mockery

of The Shadow broke Glade Tremont's nerve. The lawyer sensed that he had overplayed his hand.

"I know your ways," came a whispered, sinister voice. "I have dealt with crooks like you before."

Instinctively, Tremont quailed as The Shadow spoke. He saw his plans fading away.

"I know who called you," continued The Shadow. "Savette is your accomplice. In all probability, he has a

The Shadow laughed again, and his tone, though louder, did not emanate from that room. It caught the echoes

of the wall. It reverberated, and Tremont's eardrums throbbed with the ghostly sound.

"Tonight," declared The Shadow, "Glade Tremont will appear at the home of Doctor Savette. Later, Glade

Tremont will go to Glendale and order the release of Clifford Marsland. There, in addition, Glade Tremont

"You doubt my statement? That is because you do not understand my methods. Look!"

With his left hand. The Shadow swept away his slouch hat and brought down the collar of his cloak. His head

Staring at the disclosed face, Glade Tremont gasped. He was looking at himself his own features as clearly

The lips of the false Glade Tremont moved. The Shadow was speaking again but his voice was a perfect

As he heard that voice, the real Glade Tremont wilted in his chair. He had sought to combat The Shadow. He

The master crook slumped helplessly. He saw death now death that he could not escape. With keenness that

outrivaled all the schemes of Tremont, and his companions, The Shadow had found a certain way to foil the

Savette would be duped! Orlinov would be duped! The game was ended! But Tremont, cowering, thought

only of himself. The Shadow's eyes were flaring through his masklike face. They boded no good for Glade

GLADE TREMONT was in The Shadow's power. Until now, the man of the dark had played a waiting game,

never once revealing his hand. From the start, he had realized that he was dealing with a new game of crime.

He had divined that all the evidence against the crooks was hanging by a single thread ready to be dropped

into oblivion. Released of their burden, Tremont, Savette, and Orlinov would be beyond the law.

Now, thrusting from the dark, The Shadow had checkmated the first of the terrible three. He was master of

the situation. As Glade Tremont, he might deceive the lawyer's crafty confederates. But to do this, he must

Divested of his cloak and hat, The Shadow could easily pass Biff Towley at the outer gate. But he must first

That was why the lawyer cringed with fear. He did not expect The Shadow to fire a shot such might be

interpreted as a signal by the men outside. But the lawyer did expect to die by The Shadow's hand.

A blow from that heavy automatic a thrust with an unseen knife powerful fingers clutching at his throat

The Shadow, however did the unexpected. Calmly, he drew his cloak about his shoulders. His slouch hat

once more covered his features. The false visage of Glade Tremont was concealed from view

Gradually, it dawned upon Tremont that the man in black intended to take him from this place. The wisdom

of such a course was apparent. A dead body, hastily concealed, might be discovered, particularly if Biff and

his henchmen entered the house for any reason at all. Furthermore the thought brought a faint hope to

That was it! Tremont's wavering pulse beats quickened. The Shadow would take him away off to some

hidden lair, to hold him there a hostage as Cliff Marsland was held at Orlinov's. The checkmate would be

Tremont did not relish the situation; at the same time, he realized that the plans of his associates would go on,

Tremont was none too sure of Savette and Orlinov. Crooklike, he, himself would have been willing to

sacrifice a companion for his own good. He fancied that Savette and Orlinov would do the same.

What if The Shadow should kill Glade Tremont? They would retain the upper hand. Tremont cursed himself

THE SHADOW'S automatic seemed to beckon. Weakly, Tremont arose and moved in response to the

command. The blackgloved hand that held the automatic was close to Tremont's body. The barrel of the gun

Tremont trembled as he sensed the touch of the metal. Quivering, he walked from the room, crouching low at

Well did Tremont know the repute of The Shadow. He knew that the mighty hand would not falter in the face

of danger. A shot, now, would not be to The Shadow's liking; nevertheless, that weird personage would not

hesitate to use his gun if his commands were disobeyed. The Shadow did not fear the hordes of gangdom.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Here, The Shadow's hissing whisper formed one word:

Tremont obeyed. He listened while The Shadow spoke low and with emphasis. The command was plain.

It was the man in black who opened the door. Standing in the gloom, his automatic still a threat, he watched

Glade Tremont walk from the house. Then his tall form flitted through the opening. The door closed almost

Tremont descended to the drive. His footsteps crunched upon the gravel. The step of the car creaked as he

He could not see The Shadow in fact, Tremont dared not look behind him. He entered the car on the side

opposite the driver's seat. As he shut the door, he stared past the wheel. He saw the opposite door closing

The Shadow had tricked him! Instead of keeping him covered, The Shadow had silently flitted past the car to

the other side. Noiselessly, invisibly, he had entered. Tremont could see only a mass of black. It indicated

The starter purred. The motor throbbed. The lights of the car came on with the exception of the dash light.

Tremont sensed the boldness of The Shadow's plan. If anyone had been seen, it must have been Tremont

himself. With the car pulling away openly, Biff Towley might be deceived into thinking that Tremont was

Tremont suppressed a groan as he realized his hopelessness. Why should Biff suspect that anything was

wrong? He and his hounds of the underworld had been watching this house all evening. Only Tremont had

Deliberately, The Shadow drove Tremont's car to the circling end of the drive. He swung the wheel; then

backed the car and started it forward. He headed out along the drive, toward the safety of the street.

Tremont was too alarmed to move. He was being shanghaied in his own automobile, and he could not prevent

All seemed well with The Shadow's plan. The calm handling of the car gave every indication that nothing

could be wrong. But as the front wheels turned left from the drive, an unexpected interruption occurred,

From a car hidden across the street, a blinding searchlight turned its rays directly upon the coupe!

BIFF TOWLEY was making sure. He knew that if Glade Tremont were leaving, the searchlight's momentary

glare could do no harm. The gang leader, with stout henchmen by his side, was watching from his own

The bright light revealed Glade Tremont. But it showed more than that to Biff Towley. It indicated that the

lawyer was not driving the car. Another man was at the wheel, and in the brilliance the full form of The

In a twinkling, Biff saw the situation. A hardened gangster, he had heard much of The Shadow. Like every

other evildoer, the swarthy gang leader had sworn to some day slay the man who had so long terrorized the

Biff Towley spat the words. His wolfish snarl rose as a battle cry. Swerving, almost at a standstill, the coupe

was directly in the path of Towley and his gorillas, a perfect target for their gunfire!

Split seconds brought results. The gleam of the searchlight; Biff Towley's cry; Glade Tremont's reaction.

Hearing the shout, the lawyer flung himself low at the wheel. He was grabbing at The Shadow's right hand,

which held its automatic poised above the wheel. At the same time, Tremont had dropped his head and

In this sudden turn of affairs, The Shadow was not idle. The glare of that light brought a taunting, whispered

As Tremont's form flung toward him, The Shadow's arm came up. The barrel of his automatic caught the

lawyer's descending chin. Tremont's knees shot forward, his back caved, and he crumpled on the seat, his

The Shadow had wasted neither shot nor time in this quick meeting of the first attack. His hand had swung

upward for a double purpose. First, to eliminate Tremont; second, to beat the other men to the opening shot.

While Tremont's head was still hurtling backward, The Shadow's finger pressed the trigger of the big pistol.

There were three simultaneous results. A loud report sounded within the car. The searchlight was

With sure, swift aim, The Shadow had burst the blinding eye that had revealed his form. A single shot had

The motor of the coupe snorted. Above its thrum came the defiant shouts of thwarted gangsters. A deluge of

fire burst from the parked car. Spurts of flame appeared from trees and bushes near the house, where Jake

All were firing blindly. The coupe, gaining speed, was whirling down the narrow street, a fleeing, elusive

Angrily, Biff Towley hurled his car into gear. His powerful machine leaped forward. Gangsters, scrambling

from the lawn, leaped upon its steps. Others came running, to join the mad pursuit in the wake of Biff's sedan.

Gangsters were leaning from open windows, blasting away at the zigzagging coupe. Shots were wild. Oaths

Biff Towley, leaning over the wheel, leered grimly. Ordinarily, he would have told his men to stay their fire

until the range was closer. But now this torrent of leaden hail was working in accordance with a

The headlights of the sedan showed the fleeing car half a block ahead. Then beyond, Biff saw the sight for

FROM a side lane came a long, low touring car. It shot to the middle of the narrow street and stopped there.

From its dark sides came new shots a barrage directed toward the approaching coupe.

The Shadow was trapped between two fires! Anticipating some such situation as this, Biff Towley had

stationed his carload of reserves with instructions to block the path of any escaping enemy.

Had the coupe continued on its mad dash, it would have run into certain doom. Had it stopped in its course,

As the first shots came from the men huddled in the blocking car, The Shadow was momentarily out of range

It was on that instant that The Shadow acted. Alone, between two formidable dangers, he made an amazing

effort to elude them both. On the left of the road was a low wall lined with the trees. On the right was a

Those blackclad hands gave the wheel of the coupe a mighty twist to the right. The car spun on two wheels.

It shot over the low curb, and knifed its way through the matted thickness of the barberry hedge!

Its tires digging deeply in the soft turf of a bushcovered lawn, the car sped onward, The Shadow's amazing

It crashed through shrubbery, and skirted lowbranched trees. Its gleaming lights showed an oddly formed

The wooden spikes crackled as the car drove its way through to safety. Almost toppling as it struck the

bumpy path beside the lane, the car righted itself as the deft hands whirled the wheel.

With Glade Tremont's body bouncing crazily at his side, The Shadow piloted the car down the narrow,

winding roadway, heading away from the crossing where the touring car had awaited him.

A long shout arose from the slope behind. The gleaming lights of the touring car had spotted the return of the

Back on the side street, Biff, his sedan stopped past the spot where The Shadow had hurtled his car from

As his sedan turned the corner and sped down the lane after the distant taillight of the touring car, footsteps

pounded along the sidewalk beside Biff's car. Half a dozen running hoodlums were bringing up the rear.

By a swift, daredevil chance, The Shadow had shot from a death trap. Two cars and more than a dozen

desperate gangsters were on his trail. In the coupe, grimly clutching the jostling wheel, The Shadow laughed

as he bumped on through the night. He was on a narrow winding road that might lead nowhere.

His captive was bobbing helplessly at his side, but The Shadow gave no heed to the man whom he had taken.

He was engaged in the thrill of the moment, his mighty schemes and welllaid plans depending entirely upon

On, on, went The Shadow, seeking some avenue where he might turn, guiding his way along the twisting

road that was curving its rockincrusted route down a rugged, rambling slope. Soon he would be at the end of

Ahead, there might be safety. Ahead, might lie a trap more formidable than the one which The Shadow had

escaped. The thumping of the rocky road was racking the frame of the coupe. Life or death hung in the

Again, The Shadow laughed. His mocking mirth rang clear and bold through the blackened air of night!

A FLATTENED, widening strip in the road ahead. The wheels of the coupe swished as the fastmoving car

Then came a sharp turn to the left a downward road on a lowbanked, treeless stretch of land. Beyond that,

The coupe, responding to The Shadow's urge, hurtled toward the whitish mass ahead. Then its hood tilted

upward to a level. The raising lights hurled a vivid glare upon the blackness of the waveless Sound.

A quick foot pressed the brake. The coupe skidded sharply upon the dampened surface of a swimming wharf.

The car swung to the right. Its rear wheels skimmed along the edge of the pier, almost dropping over the side.

Jammed to a stop, the thick tires glided sidewise until the car halted on the very edge of the deep water at the

A wild finish to a desperate ride. But the thrill of this amazing episode was yet to come. Mere seconds after

The driver of the touring car could see the danger as he spotted the plight of the nearly wrecked coupe. He

jammed his brakes before he reached the wharf. His skid was shorter; his stoppage was more abrupt.

The lights of the sedan were now in view. The second of the mobmanned cars was coming up with its horde

Coldly, calmly, The Shadow slipped through the door beside the driver's seat. The jolted form of Glade

Tremont, helpless, was trapped within. The Shadow gave no thought to him. There was other work to do.

Poised on the step of the car, his black form clinging to the farther side, The Shadow was standing almost

above the watery depths at the end of the pier. First one hand rose; then the other. Each thin black glove was

An opening shot came from the body of the touring car. It crashed against the side of the coupe. The Shadow

gave no sign of a reply. Another shot splintered a side window. Still, The Shadow was silent.

Now, emboldened men were dashing forward. With gleaming revolvers, two gangsters leaped from the

touring car. Five more, headed by Jake Bosch scrambled off the running boards of the sedan. Across the

They were anxious to seize their quarry. They knew that they were dealing with The Shadow. Where was he?

Wherever he might be, these men were out to get him by force of numbers. A widespread, grimly snarling

THEN came the report of The Shadow's righthand gun. The same deadly aim that had shattered Biff

Towley's spotlight proved its merit again; but this time its target was a human body.

A dashing gangster screamed and leaped upward, hands clawing in air. His body flattened and sprawled upon

the dock sliding into a huddled shape. His revolver, skimming onward, slipped from the side of the wharf and

No one heard that splash. The Shadow's gun was delivering its second bark. Another man fell. He sprawled

The others were dropping to the wharf, lying low and spread, their revolvers returning the attack.

Biff Towley, alert in the sedan, spotted the exact place from which the shots had come. He saw the dim top of

Had The Shadow remained to risk another press of the trigger, Biff's bullet would have clipped him. But the

hat was dropping to safety as the gang leader fired. The leaden missile skimmed the crown of the

The men on the dock were crawling forward. Biff and the others who covered were alert. They saw The

But The Shadow had made a sudden change. Crouching, he flung himself flat upon the outer running board.

With incredible swiftness, he wriggled his tall form between the front fender and the hood. His left arm

Two men were crawling forward from that direction. One was Jake Bosch. With low, perfect aim, The

Before the other startled gunman could turn his revolver, a second shot occurred. Jake's companion fell,

Now guns blazed in fury. Hard bullets crashed through the side of the hood. They never found their mark.

Between The Shadow and his enemies lay the protecting motor. It was a solid barrier that bullets could not

Four men had fallen. Four of nearly a dozen. The others on the pier, realizing the fact, surged forward in a

mass. The first of the attackers reached the hood of the car. Like a soldier going over the top, he flung himself

The Shadow, twisted on his back, his left arm by the hood, his right against his body, saw the gleaming

revolver as it shot above him. He heard the brutal curse from the gangster's lips as the man tried to stop his

The Shadow's gun spat upward. The gangster's efforts failed as the bullet cleaved his chest. His body hurtled

In that welltimed, precise action, The Shadow had lost a precious second. Another foe had profited by the

delay. Sneaking by the rear of the car, this man was clinging to the back fender, on the very edge of the pier.

He could see the spatter of The Shadow's gun. Hanging backward, holding by his left hand, this gangster

He lost his aim in the effort. From his cramped position, his shot was high. Another chance was all he

The Shadow, serenely resting between the fender and the hood, deliberately leveled his right hand. His finger

pressed the trigger of the automatic. His shot was toward the one portion of the gangster's body that could not

move the white left hand that gripped the fender of the car. The Shadow's aim did not fail.

With a hideous cry, the man's hold broke as the bullet crunched his gripping hand. His arms flung up above

his head as he seemed to leap backward. His body smacked against the water with a resounding splash.

A NEW enemy menaced. He was more cautious than the others. Prowling forward, he had opened the door of

the coupe. He was reaching through the window, by the wheel for he had found it open. He was stumbling

over the form of Glade Tremont. The Shadow swung up to meet this gunman. A hand and a head came into

view. A pointing revolver shimmered. Before it was The Shadow's rising figure, with its blackened

It was a split second race between hair triggers, and The Shadow won. His shot echoed like a cannon's roar.

The gangster's head disappeared. His hand lay limply on the opening of the window, the trigger guard of the

The Shadow laughed as he gripped his right automatic in the bend of his left elbow. He extended his long arm

and the blackgloved hand plucked the revolver from the dying hoodlum's unresisting clutch.

Scowling, at the wheel of his sedan, Biff Towley spat low curses. Seven men had advanced to take The

Shadow. Seven bullets had ended their attack. The man was a demon! His work had been at close range, but

Biff nudged the man who sat beside him the only other occupant of the sedan. Together, they clambered

from the car and found protection beside the touring car. There were two men there.

In the badlands of Manhattan, that name would have inspired its hearers with terror. Here, with the echoes of

gunshots still ringing in their ears, the utterance inspired Biff's henchmen with a new and grim incentive.

They had The Shadow within their grasp, if they could but take him. Their companions had tasted his

The nose of the touring car was pointed at an angle toward the bulletriddled coupe. Biff's plan was a quick

The man who crouched at the wheel uttered a terse grunt. The touring car shot forward and jammed its

Biff Towley's command came from the side of the car. The two men raised their revolvers. Biff and his

From this spot, a quick attack was possible. Yet Biff hesitated. Then, as though in answer to a sharp oath that

sputtered from the gang leader, a shout was raised from the road that came to the pier. Five running gangsters

It would be sure death for The Shadow now! To stop the approach of these men, he must show himself.

"Hold it!" exclaimed Biff, to the three men near him. "Watch when he shows his head "

Before the men could heed their leader's warning, The Shadow's tall form appeared suddenly at the rear of the

coupe, rising above the top at the very spot where he had made his earliest appearance. He, too, had heard

the shouts and now his eyes could see the cluster of gangsters who were nearing the pier. But these were not

THE SHADOW had outguessed Biff Towley. He had realized the very situation that was springing through

the swarthy gangster's mind. Springing upward, almost on top of the car, The Shadow was a mighty monster

The height of his position, the proximity of the touring car both gave him an advantage which Biff Towley

Down swept the hands that held the automatics. Only long, spitting flames revealed the presence of the guns.

The quick shots were directed at the two men in the touring car, one in front the other in the rear. Both were

The Shadow clipped the front man in the shoulder. The gangster managed to return the shot, but his aim was

faulty. The Shadow's next bullet smashed the man's arm. He dropped his gun and fell to the protecting floor.

The other automatic was not idle. While the left used two shots to wound the man in front, the right hand

He was crouching, thinking himself safe. In that he was wrong. The Shadow made a living target of his

Biff's lone companion saw The Shadow, and made a mad dash forward. He fired wild as The Shadow's body

The Shadow dropped flat upon the top of the car, and his automatics slipped away. They were empty. From

The reserves of the gangster horde were pounding across the dock, yelling wildly. They did not know the

The Shadow ignored their fire. Coolly, calmly, he aimed with perfect marksmanship. He was a difficult target

for the approaching men. They were in front of the sedan's lights, which Biff had left burning. The Shadow

His final shots were timed to good advantage. Men sprawled as they came on. Two, seeing their companions

fall, leaped back and dived behind the sedan. The Shadow pressed the trigger as he aimed toward one of the

Biff Towley had not been idle. Crafty as well as bold, he had seen too much of The Shadow's marksmanship

to risk exposing himself. Instead of springing into view, the gang leader crawled to the side of the coupe, and

He knew that The Shadow would be watching for someone on the outer side. Sneaking cautiously, Biff raised

His head and hand came up together, over the top of the coupe. Biff had intended to be close to his foe, but he

had not expected the proximity which he attained. As his face came above the top of the car, Biff found

Once again, The Shadow was too quick. As he saw the gang leader's face appear, he flung his revolver

squarely into that leering visage. The metal missive flattened the gang leader's face.

Biff Towley toppled backward as he fired. His bullet whistled past The Shadow's hat. The gang leader landed

flat on his back, beside the coupe, and his revolver clinked as it struck the light of the touring car.

The Shadow had risen with his effort. Weaponless, now, his wavering form became a target for the men by

At the sound of the first shot, The Shadow flung his arms wide. A loud cry came from his hidden lips. It

dwindled as his form lurched backward. A dull splash followed as the falling man in black plunged into the

THE two men hurried forward. One saw Biff Towley, groaning on the dock and stopped to aid his chief, the

He was still staring when the other gangster joined him. The watcher raised his gun and fired a skimming

"Don't waste good lead. You got that guy the first time you fired. Come along. We've got to help Biff. It's

The suggestion was a wise one. Even in this isolated spot the sound of gunfire had at last brought visitors.

Two cars were stopping on a roadway, across a little cove. The men on the dock could hear voices.

Hurriedly, they rushed back to aid Biff and other wounded men. They piled their companions into the cars

and prepared to leave. One man took the sedan; the other the touring car. With their load of wounded

The silence of death prevailed upon the little pier. There The Shadow had fought his mighty battle against

terrific odds, only to end his glorious fight with a farewell plunge into the Sound.

People were arriving now, a uniformed policeman among them. Whitefaced men were peering at the

sprawled forms of dead gangsters. The officer pulled a motionless man from the coupe; then saw another

This man was alive. He managed to rise of his own accord. He staggered as his feet touched the pier, then sat

down on the running board of the coupe and stared about him with a bewildered air.

It was Glade Tremont. He had regained consciousness during the end of the fray. Now, he could scarcely

realize what had happened. People were crowding up to talk with this lone survivor of the carnage

Men piling victims into cars that had gone; dead men on the dock; a live man emerging from the coupe

But no one, either on the pier or the roadway across the cove, saw the dripping figure that came from the

No one saw the figure nor did any hear the mocking laugh that came from lips that were obscured by the

The Shadow, victor of the fray, had returned from the waters. He had feigned a dying plunge when he had

AN automobile pulled up to the door of Glade Tremont's home. A policeman stepped out to meet it. Doctor

"All right now, sir," said the officer. "He was lucky that he didn't get killed. He got caught in the middle of a

Savette went into the house and ascended the stairs. He arrived at Glade Tremont's bedroom, and entered to

No one else was in the room. A glass and bottle of medicine indicated that another physician had left.

"I received your message," he said, in a low voice. "They told me you wanted me here as your physician.

"I am fortunate to be here myself," returned Tremont. "We struck a Tartar tonight, Gerald. We finished him,

Briefly, Tremont narrated the events up to the time of The Shadow's mad flight. That was the point at which

the lawyer's observation had ceased. Skipping the story of the fight on the dock, Tremont came to what had

"When I came to," he said, "they were dragging me out of the coupe. I couldn't figure where I was at first

then I realized I was on the little dock at the end of the old lane. The policeman recognized me. He knew my

"That I had driven down to the dock to look at the Sound. Just as I was turning the coupe. Two cars came

swinging down the lane, one in pursuit of the other. Then the guns started. Gangsters, battling. Two of them

piled into the car. Something hit me on the head. I dropped and that's the last I knew about it."

"Just to see I'm all right," smiled Tremont. "He will be leaving soon. I called Biff Towley while you were on

"Yes?" Savette's eyebrows betrayed his eagerness to hear about the gang leader's report.

"He didn't talk long," declared Tremont, "but he told me all I want to know. One of his men nailed The

"He smashed Biff in the face with his revolver. No shots left, evidently. Then one of Biff's mob fired

"Badly. Jake Bosch was killed. Some others, too. Nearly all were wounded. That man was a fighter but the

"Amazing his scheme of posing as you. I don't think it could have deceived me, however."

"He entered through a cellar window," observed Tremont. "Captured one of Biff's men and tied him up. The

fellow managed to get free, just about the time they were bringing me back from the dock.

"I'm glad about that; it wouldn't be well for him to be down there now or even in this vicinity. He arrived at

DOCTOR SAVETTE became pensive. He seemed to be reviewing the scattered details of tonight's events.

He was picturing the battle on the pier. He nodded slowly as though a definite thought was coming to him.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of raindrops that began to spatter on the sloping roof outside of

The noise of the rainfall became a heavy torrent. It had been cloudy ever since the afternoon; now a storm

Savette gazed idly at the blackened window; then he resumed his meditation. Now, it was Tremont who

"It worked out for the best," he declared. "It was a stalemate; now the game is ours. We can take our time. As

Tremont made a gesture to indicate that Cliff would be obliterated from the horizon.

"Don't act too quickly, Glade," he advised, in a crafty tone. "We can never be too sure. I agree with you that

"People do not always die when they are shot. If The Shadow is dead, I want to be sure of it. Wait until they

"They may never find it," answered Tremont. "There are heavy currents along this part of the shore. You can

"I am not counting on anything," asserted Savette. "That is the very point I am trying to make you consider.

"By continuing to hold Marsland. We have him safe. You gave The Shadow your ultimatum. So long as

"That is right," acquiesced Tremont. "Marsland can do no harm; he may be useful if we keep him. We have

too much at stake to allow a single loophole. You took chances tonight. You are lucky to be alive. Be guided

TREMONT realized the wisdom of Savette's remarks. He sensed that his colleague in crime was about to

"You need a vacation," declared Savette, assuming a professional air. "I suggest that you go away for a trip.

"Take Biff Towley with you. Put him in charge of forces up there. Forget New York for a while. Concentrate

"We have accomplished what we set out to do. Our past is covered. There are only two who have ever tried to

interfere Sharrock and The Shadow. We drove the first away. We have apparently killed the second.

"I shall remain in New York. You will be with Orlinov, making sure that all goes well. With Towley in

charge of the guards there can be no mutiny, nor easing of the watch. Then Orlinov can drive those slaves of

There was a steely glint in Savette's eyes as he concluded his statement. Tremont chuckled.

"Orlinov knows how to drive" declared the lawyer. "He is getting results as effectively as possible. He is

"I know that," said Savette thoughtfully. "I intend to rectify that situation. I can do it better alone, at present.

Our real work is ended. It was difficult with the others, because we had set our minds on the ones we wanted.

"Sharrock crossed us," added Savette. "Otherwise, we might not have started on our new venture. If we had

him now, we would be all right. But it would be dangerous to go after him. There are easier ways; and I can

"I understand that," said Savette. "Nevertheless, we must not be hasty. Give me three weeks perhaps a

month. By then I shall have a perfect plan. It may take me less time. When I need assistance, I shall

"Several," said Savette, "but each one presents an obstacle. That is why I have been waiting. It would be a

grave mistake to choose one, then find another who would prove more profitable. We want the one who will

"That is up to you," said Tremont in a tired voice. "Do your best, and let me hear from you. I shall leave for

Savette arose and bade his companion good night. He went downstairs and donned his raincoat. He stepped

from the door. The policeman, a poncho on his shoulders, was standing on the edge of the porch. He saluted

the physician and Savette hastened through the pouring rain and reached his car.

The policeman watched the physician's automobile drive away. The officer had been instructed to remain

here during the night. Glade Tremont was an important resident in the locality. The head of the local police

UP on the roof above the policeman's head, a shadowy shape appeared reflected in the light from Tremont's

window. A dripping cloak glistened as the figure of The Shadow crept toward the edge of the roof.

Escaped from the waters of the Sound, the man of mystery had come to Tremont's home, to anticipate a visit

from Doctor Gerald Savette. Outside the window, he had listened to every word that had been uttered by the

The Shadow reached the edge of the roof. His form became invisible. His long shape glided easily over the

Had The Shadow dropped to the soft ground beneath, his fall would have attracted the attention of the

He had chosen this spot with careful design. Lowering one hand, he encircled it about a pillar beneath the

overhanging roof. The other arm followed. Clinging to the post, The Shadow moved downward inch by inch,

The officer was only a few feet away, on the other side of the post. He chanced to turn and look toward the

The Shadow's form was motionless. The projecting arms and shoulders were a black blot that to the officer's

The policeman's tread sounded on the wooden porch. The man went down the steps and peered along the

drive. He came back to his position, and paused to light a cigarette by the very post where The Shadow had

The bluetipped match threw a glare as the policeman scratched it on the pillar. The sudden blaze revealed

nothing. Quietly, stealthily the man of night had glided away into the darkness.

He was treading the drive now, but not even the gravel gave sign of his passing. Out to the street then the

only token of his presence was a drifting silhouette that moved along the sidewalk past a blurred street lamp.

With cloak and hat saturated by Sound and rain, The Shadow traveled on without the slightest swish to

indicate his presence. Invisible, he stopped beside a driveway that led to an empty house. There he turned to

The patter of the rain on the roof of the car drowned the noise of the opening door. The Shadow reached the

wheel of his own car. The starter sounded; the motor throbbed. The lights came on as the car swung clear of

the drive and headed toward New York. Soon it reached a broad boulevard, and was lost in the traffic of

WHEN next The Shadow appeared he was in a darkened room where only the spotlight of the greenshaded

His hands alone were visible dry hands now. Those long, slender fingers had shown their mastery with the

The girasol glimmered above a typed report. The Shadow was reading word from Rutledge Mann word that

included a relayed message from Harry Vincent, the agent whom The Shadow had dispatched abroad:

The Shadow inscribed the translation of this condensed report, which conformed with a code given Vincent.

"Shark" meant Sharrock. "Nice" referred to the Mediterranean resort. "Paris" showed where Sharrock had

Evidently Vincent had lost the trail at Nice. Sharrock, travelling to Paris had continued from there to

Cherbourg, to catch the steamer for America. The Shadow's hands were still, indicating that he was

Then the fingers found another item supplied by Rutledge Mann. It was the sailing schedule of The Franco

Line. The 'Talleyrand' had left Cherbourg that day. It would not arrive in New York for a week.

There was significance in the return of this man Sharrock. Savette had boasted that he and Tremont had

driven him away. Why was he coming back? What would be the outcome when the plotters learned of his

Sharrock, stepbrother of Austin Bellamy, might prove a key to the situation that existed in Glendale. His

return was evidently unknown to Savette. Would it aid or disturb The Shadow's plans?

Once again, The Shadow's prophetic list appeared. That piece of paper gave its column of words: Money

Television Atomic Energy Aeronautics Money. The first four titles had the names of men attached. At

The list began with money; it ended with money. Whatever the purpose of the three statements in between,

The hand of The Shadow paused beside that allimportant word at the bottom of the list. It waited, lingering.

Then came a laugh from the blackness of the room. It was a strange, sardonic laugh a token of mirth that

The hand wrote. Another name was inscribed to the list. For a brief instant the name stood plain, while the

girasol on The Shadow's left hand threw forth its lustrous shafts of mystic light.

Then all was darkness as the shaded lamp clicked off. From the stillness of a solid, tomblike room, The

Out of the dark, The Shadow had come tonight. Into the dark he had returned. Checked in his first attack,

driven to bay by gangster hordes, The Shadow had fought against tremendous odds. His presence had been

But with uncanny cleverness, The Shadow had retired further from the light. His enemies believed he was

defeated. They were almost convinced that he was dead. The one advantage he had gained tonight was

Only through preserving the pretense of oblivion could The Shadow hope to withhold these scheming fiends.

In the face of this dilemma, The Shadow laughed! His brain had evolved some system whereby odds such as

DOCTOR SAVETTE smiled grimly as he leaned back in his easychair. He was alone in his front room,

reviewing the past, and thinking of the future. Attired in evening clothes, he had the pose of a gentleman of

Four days had passed since Biff Towley's mob had met and fought The Shadow. The affray had caused a

great stir in the newspapers. The garbled and incorrect accounts had been accepted seriously.

Solemn sleuths had solved the situation so they supposed. It was assumed that a crowd of gangsters had

gone to the dock to meet rumrunners coming in from the Sound. Another crew of mobsmen had come to

Glade Tremont, prominent attorney had unfortunately been trapped in the fray. The victors had fled, leaving

Certain of the battling mobsmen had been identified with a gang leader named Biff Towley. He was not in

New York. It was supposed that he had fled perhaps before the fight fearing that he was to be deposed as

chief. Some effort was being made to find him, but the attempt was not widespread.

Glade Tremont had gone away for a rest. He had been through a grueling experience. His departure from

All these reports were good news to Gerald Savette. But he had still another reason to be pleased. The

Shadow had completely disappeared. Unmentioned by the press for no one had suspected The Shadow's

hand in the Long Island affair the one enemy whom Savette and Tremont feared had passed into oblivion.

Now, Savette had begun to share Tremont's theory that The Shadow had been killed. There were good

It seemed incredible that the man could possibly have escaped. The mobster who had fired the shot at which

The Shadow toppled had gazed from the end of the dock to see no one. That was Biff Towley's assurance.

Moreover, Glade Tremont's statement about the currents in the Sound were true ones. Searchers had

discovered the body of a dead gangster wedged beneath another dock a half mile away.

No body had been found that might have been The Shadow's; but there was every cause to believe that his

Most convincing of all was the fact that The Shadow had not revealed himself. There was no chance so

Savette thought that The Shadow could know of present plans. Checkmated, his only hope if he lived of

saving Cliff Marsland's life was to communicate and come to terms. Savette was confident on this point.

Nevertheless, the wily physician had not changed his plan of holding Cliff as a hostage. With his agent

captive, The Shadow could not dare to strike. Savette, despite his smugness, was well versed in the lore of the

underworld. He knew that The Shadow would never abandon an underling to destruction.

FOR a short while, Savette had entertained the thought that perhaps operatives of The Shadow might carry

Actually, The Shadow was a lone wolf. His special agents were merely men who obeyed orders blindly,

covering places where The Shadow could not be. These leaderless operatives could not even know of Cliff

Now, with full security, Savette was contemplating another crime. Money was needed for a definite purpose.

With his past record, it was only natural that the scheming physician should decide to use an evil method in

Reclining, with eyes half shut, the fiend made mental notations of persons whom he had in mind. Among his

patients were many wealthy persons; but as he had told Tremont, there was an obstacle with each that

Savette took chances when necessary. He had not been so particular in the past, when he had first embarked

upon his insidious trail of crime. Now, with his career besmirched, and his mind schooled to ease and

perfection in method, he wanted to perform the coming job in the safest and best way possible.

Some minds are naturally crooked. Gerald Savette did not possess the quirks and twists of the natural

criminal. To him, evil was useful only as a means to a definite end. He, like his associates, had left a bloody

trail behind them. But in the lesser jobs, they had let Biff Towley attend to the dirty work.

Gerald Savette felt himself a criminal deluxe. He was about to make his farewell bow to his secret profession.

From then on, he would be secure as a wealthy, retired physician. That was the goal he had set.

Tremont wanted action soon. So did Orlinov. Both could wait a month if necessary. Unless a perfect

scheme presented itself, Savette would hold back to the limit before perpetrating his last evil.

While he waited, he was playing his suave part of a reputable physician. He was strict ethically. He was not

overdoing himself. He was enjoying social functions, extending his connections, adding to his prestige. A

Tonight, Savette was keeping an appointment with a group of wealthy men. Glancing at his watch, he saw

that it was past eight o'clock. Nearly time to be going. He rang a bell and summoned his servant, Hughes.

"Order the car from the garage," said Savette. "By the way, Hughes, let me have that envelope with the

Hughes bowed and left the room. He returned, carrying the envelope; Savette opened it. He smiled as he read

This had come as a followup to a phone call which Savette had received from Lamont Cranston, the

Cranston was giving a special party to a few chosen guests. The affair was set for tonight. Savette had

accepted the verbal invitation. The letter carried instructions, telling how to reach Cranston's home in New

Jersey. It also expressed pleasure in the fact that Doctor Savette would be able to attend the affair.

WHEN the car arrived from the garage, Savette set out immediately. He headed for the Holland Tunnel,

reached the Jersey side, and arrived at Lamont Cranston's home shortly after nine o'clock.

Most of the guests had arrived. Savette was greeted by his host. He was introduced to the other men, all of

"I have not seen you for some time, doctor," remarked Cranston, as the two were standing side by side.

"Let me think," said Savette slowly. "Ah, yes. I seem to recall it. Weren't we both at Clark Murdock's?"

"Clark Murdock." Cranston seemed puzzled. "Now it comes back to me. I had forgotten the name of that

chemist chap. The one who had all the queer experiments. Very interesting. I wonder how he is progressing."

"He is dead," said Savette, in a tone of surprise. "His laboratory blew up. Didn't you know about that, Mr.

"I seldom read the newspapers," replied Cranston, in a laughing tone. Then his words became solemn. "I am

sorry to hear the man died by accidental cause. A great loss to science. He appeared to have discovered

something of value. I thought that he was still at work, trying to develop that machine of his."

IT was nearing midnight. Refreshments were served. While all were eating, Cranston made an

"This is something of a farewell party, gentlemen," he said. "The wanderlust has seized me again. I am

A buzz of interest arose. Lamont Cranston had a great reputation as a globetrotter. Questions came. All

"My plans?" Cranston's staid face took on a cryptic smile. "I have none, gentlemen. I go where the mood

seizes me. Africa India South America. All are alike to me. I do not follow the beaten trail.

"Alone and unattended, I may walk into the midst of a Senegambian tribe. The chief will recognize me.

Unheralded, I may appear among the ancient Indians of Peru. There, too, my presence is welcome.

"I have been to Lassa, the Holy City of Tibet. I have trekked through the South African veldt. I have explored

the far reaches of the Amazon. I go to places where my very name is unknown to those who recognize me.

"All of the primitive peoples whom I meet have given me their own name. Translated, I am known as 'Child

of the Moon,' 'White Chief,' 'Smoke Man' and a host of other curious titles. I carry weapons, but I seldom

use them, except when I am tracking game. I surprise my primitive friends with conjuring tricks, tobacco

"I possess an aptitude for learning any dialect almost as I hear it. In this way, I get along well even with

cannibals, who have invariably considered me of more value as a wise man than as a kettle of stew. On my

"Of course," said Cranston. "Sometime, I shall not return. No one will ever hear of me again. Well, that will

be an interesting way to shake off this life. I prefer the unusual in death as well as in life."

"Longer than usual. I cannot tell the exact period that my trip will cover. That depends upon my varying

moods. On this occasion, however, I am doing the unusual. I have arranged my affairs for two years and I

The bizarre notions of Lamont Cranston were highly interesting to this group. These wealthy men preferred

the security of New York to the dangers of the jungle. Someone remarked to that effect. Cranston laughed in

"One is as safe in the jungle as in New York," he said. "I have told you, gentlemen, that I am always prepared

for a strange fate. It could overtake me here, in this house, as well as in a foreign clime. That is one of the

"The parachute jumper dies from a fall down a short flight of steps. The man who catches rattlesnakes, dies

from the bite of a mad poodle. It has been so always. Achilles, famous warrior, was slain from an arrow shot

in the heel. Pyhrrus, the great general, perished from a tile which a woman dropped upon his head."

As the conversation continued, Doctor Savette found himself taking an increased interest in Lamont

Cranston's statements. The man talked impressively and many of his words were interpreted by the physician

As the guests began to depart, Savette lingered. He had been hearing many chance remarks that indicated

At last, Savette was the only guest who remained. Reluctantly, he turned to send a servant for his hat. It was

"I forgot that you arrived late, doctor," he said. "On that account, you were not here when I showed my

friends my den. It will be disarranged tomorrow. Can you wait a few minutes long enough to view it? I can

CRANSTON led the way to a back room on the second floor. Despite his sophistication, Savette was

Lamont Cranston had collected many curios. Hunting spears from the Amazon; tiger heads from India; odd

tapestries from China. The den was a veritable museum; but it possessed unusual features which impressed

Every object had a history. This tapestry had hung in the imperial palace at Peking. This lota bowl was the

gift of a Hindu fakir in Benares. That rifle was a present from a squat Boer who had carried it against the

British in South Africa. Skins, rugs, silken ropes all were spread about the room in abundance.

"Marvelous!" exclaimed Savette, as he listened to Cranston's brief explanations of what the objects signified.

"Marvelous, tonight yes," declared Cranston. "Tomorrow just so many more items in storage. That is my

Cranston detected a glow in the physician's eyes. He became thoughtful; then spoke in a quiet tone.

"Perhaps you would like to keep some of these trifles," he said. "If so, you are welcome to any of them for

"I would be responsible for their safety," rejoined the physician. "Suppose that something happened to them

"What of it?" Cranston's tone was careless. "Something might happen to them in storage. Particularly the

skins and rugs. I would prefer to leave them with someone like yourself. Some one who would appreciate

"I have had several friends in mind, but, unfortunately, all are out of town. These guests of mine tonight

wealthy, but not appreciative. They buy what they want. Let them. You are the only one who has expressed

"Richards," said Cranston, "where did you leave that large empty box. The heavy one, you know "

HE led the physician to the hall below. There, at the rear of the hallway, stood a large box with a doorlike

front, triplelocked with padlocks. Cranston thumped it in and out to show its solidity.

"This is the very thing," he said. "I am serious, doctor. I would consider it both a favor and an honor if you

would provide a comfortable home for some of my rugs and skins. Add a few of the more interesting trophies

"I am going away for a long time. I may never come back. I attach no strings to my offer.

"When I return from my present trip, I shall have a supply of new curios that will be larger than the old

"Possibly," said Cranston. "It might interest you to know my method, doctor. Many persons have wondered

"When I leave here," he said, "the only luggage that I carry is a large, heavy portmanteau suitcase. I do not

know whether I am going to the tropics or the frozen north. I buy the articles I need trunks and all when I

reach my destination. I dispose of them before I return, so I have no more baggage returning than going.

"My suitcase contains some pet objects, of course my favorite revolver, a few books, other articles that I am

sure to need, and may not be able to obtain where I am going. More important, however, are my drafts and

negotiable funds. I carry a supply of gold, of course. All that refers to my traveling affairs.

"But my affairs here in New York are so arranged that I can conduct them as I choose. My resources are very

large. I have an old family lawyer a lolling, stupid fellow who is just the man I require. He knows

"If I make out checks and mail them to New York or elsewhere, they are honored as if I were here. I, alone,

know where I keep my accounts. If I notify my lawyer to deliver securities or other valuables, he does as I tell

him. Thus I can watch the rise and fall of the market, no matter where I am, and act accordingly."

"Then you really rely on no one," said Savette. "That is, upon no one but yourself?"

"No, indeed," corrected Cranston. "I sometimes write to friends. For instance, I might write to you and to

Bartram, my lawyer, at the same time. My letter to you would request you to obtain one hundred shares of a

certain stock from Bartram, to sell them on a certain day, and to deposit the money to my account in a certain

"Certainly, when you identified yourself. My letter to him would verify that. He is just an office boy. I keep

him" Cranston laughed "chiefly to be on hand to settle my estate if I should die while I am away."

"Remarkable, but very simple," said Cranston. "I like to do things my own way. One time, in San Francisco, I

met an old schoolmate who needed twentyfive thousand dollars. The bank would grant him the loan if he

had security. So I wired Bartram to send him forty thousand dollars' worth of certain bonds. Bartram had

"Never," said Cranston. "I do not speak of my affairs to crooks, doctor. In fact, you are one of the very small

number of persons who know anything at all about my methods. I have a complete record of my assets in my

"Right now" Cranston spoke calmly "I could raise three million dollars, through my banks and through

"It is not a loose system. It is a tight one. I know my own affairs. I keep my own records. I lend money, I trust

"One man failed to repay a debt of five hundred dollars. I lost other small amounts. Less than a thousand, all

"I could leave tonight. Walk upstairs, take my bag, and step out of this house. All right. No trouble. As a

matter of fact, I shall not touch that bag until I leave, sometime tomorrow night."

"I don't even know that. When I please. But let us get back to the curios. It is too late now for you to make a

choice. The servants are leaving tomorrow afternoon. I shall be alone here in the evening. If you wish, come

out, and you and I can pack what you want. You will have to provide the truck to carry away the box. That is

"Good," said Savette, with a tone of sudden decision. "A great idea, Mr. Cranston. I accept your kind offer."

"You said day after tomorrow, sir," said Richards. "Everything else goes out tomorrow. I am to return later to

"That's right," observed Cranston. "I had forgotten. Tomorrow, Richards, move this box upstairs. Doctor

Savette is coming. He and I will pack some of the curios, and a truck will come to take it. You pack whatever

"Let's see, now" Cranston became thoughtful "you and all the servants will be away tomorrow night "

"Surely, surely," said Cranston. "Tell Stanley he can go, also, Richards. That will be a great help, doctor.

Send a truck. We shall pack the box and let the men take it. Then we can put my portmanteau in your car. At

that time" he laughed as he spoke "I shall decide what train I intend to take, what railroad it will be on,

This arranged, Savette noticed the lateness of the hour, and decided that he must be leaving. Cranston

Driving back toward Manhattan, Doctor Gerald Savette smiled in glee. A short chuckle clucked from his lean

Savette had found a perfect scheme. He had waited wisely before formulating his final crime. Soon he and his

AT nine o'clock the next evening Doctor Savette again arrived at Lamont Cranston's home exactly

He noted, as he came up the drive, that only a single light was burning in the house. Savette chuckled. He

The physician was forced to ring the bell twice before the door was opened. It was Lamont Cranston who

"I am everything tonight," he said. "I am taking the place of Richards. I was upstairs in the den when you

The men went upstairs. They entered the den. Cranston puffed as he noted that the room was warm.

Savette complied with the suggestion. Cranston removed his own coat. In vests and shirt sleeves, they walked

about, looking at the various objects. Savette pointed out different rugs and skins. He also selected a few

Together, the men piled the articles into the big box, which stood just within the door. Cranston peered into

"It looks like a padded cell," he said with a laugh. "Have you had any experience with them, doctor?"

Savette chuckled and grunted an incoherent reply in response. Cranston's hand was resting on the chair where

the physician's coat lay. He happened to bring it into the light. The gleam of metal showed momentarily; then

Doctor Savette turned from the box. He looked about the room with the air of a connoisseur; then stroked his

"I think that will do," he observed "My room is very small. I certainly appreciate your kindness, Mr.

"Now we are ready," declared the physician, putting on his coat. Lamont Cranston also donned his outer

He walked across the hallway and disappeared for a moment. He came back, lugging a heavy suitcase which

"All ready," he announced. "Let us close the big box; then we can see if the truckmen are here."

The millionaire stooped before the box Savette looked at the man's face in the light.

Cranston was comparatively young, but his face seemed rather old. It was almost masklike, the physician

noted, as though his features were formed from an artificial mold a smooth surface over a visage beneath.

The physician's hands were in his coat pockets. They moved restlessly; then paused as Cranston stepped

"SURE you do not want to take more?" questioned the millionaire. "This box will hold a great deal "

"Listen!" Cranston held up his hand for silence. "Can that be the truck you ordered?"

"We might as well close the box first," he said. "Do you have the keys for the padlocks?"

"Here they are." He brought out a bunch of keys and tossed them to the physician. "I shall try them to make

He unlocked each of the closed padlocks. Then, as an afterthought, he walked about the box, thumping it

"Excellent," he said. "No chance of breakage, no matter how roughly it may be handled."

Savette was coming closer, as though to assist in the examination of the box. Cranston again turned away and

"That's all packed," he said. "We are ready to go. I just want to make sure that I have everything."

He came back after a few moments' inspection in another room. Reaching the den, he picked up a light

taboret that stood near the box. It had a deep top, and its octagonal interior was large enough to contain a

"Are you sure you don't want this?" quizzed Cranston. "It would fit nicely in the box. No chance of its

breaking. With the way those sides are padded, I could take a trip in the box myself, without minding it."

Cranston placed the taboret beside the box. Again, Savette moved closer. Once more, Cranston turned away.

"What is the matter, doctor?" he questioned. "You appear to be a trifle pale. Are you feeling faint? I know it

is the stuffiness of this room. Come let us go downstairs and see if the truck is there. The fresh air will do

Savette was nerving himself for a quick action. This last suggestion interfered with his plans. He gave a

He held out his arms as Savette staggered against him. With his right hand, the physician clutched Cranston's

shoulder. His left hand, unseen by the millionaire, crept stealthily from his pocket.

A tiny metal object gleamed in the physician's hand. With a quick motion, he steadied himself and drove the

The millionaire uttered a sudden exclamation. His face took on a startled expression as Savette staggered

Then the millionaire saw the fiendish gleam that was spreading over the physician's face. He came toward

Savette, with an unexpected fury. His hands went for the physician's throat. The evil man had unmasked

Cranston's fingers caught the villain's neck. A ring pressed hard against Savette's throat. Then the sudden

hold began to weaken. Savette shoved Cranston away; the millionaire staggered backward, toppled, and fell,

There he lay, helpless, without motion. Savette, his teeth together, and his fists clenched, stood above the

He was recalling statements that Cranston had made last night and tonight. He uttered them now, with evil

"Going away for a long trip, eh?" snarled Savette. "May never come back. Dangers strike anywhere here, as

likely as in the jungle. Fill the box, eh? With a taboret packed so it can't break. You wouldn't mind taking a

"Well you can." Savette's voice became a hideous chuckle. "Yes, take a trip. You are dead, Cranston. Dead.

For fortyeight hours, so far as I am concerned. But to the world, you will be dead forever. Dead when I

choose to say the word. Dead men sometimes live for a time. You are one who will live, until your

SAVETTE examined the hypodermic. Satisfied that he had given his victim the full charge, he dropped the

syringe back in his pocket. Stooping, he tumbled the millionaire's body into the box. The form seemed stiff

Savette stood back and surveyed his handiwork. He closed the door of the box and applied the three heavy

padlocks. He pushed the taboret a little to one side. Then he turned to the hall. He went downstairs, carrying

Out on the porch, the physician gave a low whistle. Two men came from a truck parked in the darkness.

While the men were on the way, Savette placed the portmanteau in his car. He waited until the men brought

out the large box and placed it on the truck. He waved his hand as a signal, and the truckmen drove away.

Doctor Savette went back into the house. He walked up to the den, and laughed as he looked at the taboret. It

was a valuable article, but not so valuable as the one that he had taken in its place. He picked up the taboret

and set it in a corner. The top flopped open. Savette noted that the interior was empty.

He turned out the light in the den. He extinguished other lights on the same floor. He did the same when he

reached the downstairs hall. He closed the big front door, latching it behind him.

Richards would be here in the morning. He would find nothing out of order. All of the furniture had been

removed; only the few articles that were in the den remained for the valet to clear away.

When Doctor Savette reached his home in New York, he carried Lamont Cranston's portmanteau upstairs

with him. He opened the suitcase eagerly. He went through its contents with excited fingers.

Here were the articles he wanted! Checkbooks, lists, and other objects of importance. Savette found gold and

negotiable notes to the value of two thousand dollars. But he pushed these valuables aside in contempt. What

Money! He would have it now. The firm of Savette and Tremont, with their Russian partner, Orlinov, would

teem with sure success. Lamont Cranston's wealth would be the basis of many millions more!

Curbing his criminal emotions, Savette closed the portmanteau and placed it in a corner. He began to consider

a milder subject, the simple matter of a short vacation. Savette leaned back in satisfaction as he rested in his

He, too, would go to Glendale. There, Lamont Cranston, under the subtle treatment of Ivan Orlinov, would be

IT was long past midnight. Orlinov's gray castle stood bleak and barren in the flooding moonlight. Its stone

walls were deserted; yet its sullen battlements and sturdy towers spoke of hidden menatarms, ready to rise

A heavy truck glided up to the massive gate that bore the halfdefaced name "Glamartin." The lights clicked

off and on. In response to the signal, the gate opened, and a stocky man stepped out and walked to the side of

The watcher had recognized the truckmen who were bringing a new shipment to the castle. All three two

truckmen and one watcher were handpicked gorillas in the service of Biff Towley.

The truck passed on. The gate clanged behind it. The truck stopped in front of the stone building. Men came

from the door. Strong hands unloaded the heavy box from the truck. Through the door went the box, into the

The handlers noticed the heavy fastenings of the box, its long pivot hinge, its solid padlocks. The burden

rested on the floor as they surveyed it. Then the men left, locking the door of the room.

There was no light in the living room, save the dying glow of embers in the fireplace. The mysterious box

loomed large in the vague light. The only tokens of activity were the flickering, changing shadows that

wavered across the floor in response to the faint glow from the large fireplace.

Strange shadows in a strange room! Shadows that varied with the dying of the coals. Shadows that flitted like

ghostly, goblin shapes. Shadows that were unreal, yet shades that seemed possessed of an uncanny life.

The faint crackling of the embers; the occasional creaking of the floor; these were the only sounds within that

room. Then, shadows and sounds took on a more eerie trend. They were vague and uncertain as the firelight

One might have thought that elfin footfalls were creeping through that room, that the heavy door that led to

In the mystery wing of the house, a lone gangster patrolled the dim, lengthy corridor. His vigil took him from

On the upper story, he stopped frequently to lift up square panels in the centers of certain doors, to make sure

Calloused and unimaginative, this watchman was unperturbed by the creaking of the floor beneath his feet,

and the strange, grotesque shadows that he encountered in the gloomy light. Fantastic silhouettes did not

He was alert, but calmly so, as he patrolled his course. Reaching the end of the corridor, he turned and went

WITHIN a veritable cellroom, Cliff Marsland lay half awake upon a corner couch. The flicker of dim light

passed over his eyes as the watching hoodlum lifted the panel in the door that led to the hall. Then the panel

A short tine later, Cliff opened his eyes, fancying that another beam of illumination had strayed into the

room. Then he felt that he must have been mistaken, for all remained dark by the door.

Cliff pitched restlessly. He was wearied by this captivity. He had found himself in this room, weak and

pepless, after he had recovered from the effects of the hypo jabbed into his arm.

He had remained here a long while weeks, it seemed and his jailers had been uncommunicative. Actually,

Cliff realized, his confinement had been a matter of days only; but time had passed dully.

He had eaten the food that was furnished him. He did not fear poison for he knew he was completely in the

power of his captors. He had realized that he had been receiving a mild opiate for he had constantly lacked

Even now, although aroused and disgruntled, Cliff could not overcome the drowsiness that gripped him. His

Shafts of morning light flung a melancholy glare through the high, glassbarred slits that served as windows

in Cliff's prison. The captive awoke and again as on previous mornings realized his plight.

Cliff was in the same predicament as those other men whom Orlinov had shown him. He was one of the dead

Cliff raised his head and adjusted his pillow, preparing for another doze. His hand struck something. He

raised the pillow; then quickly dropped it while he stared toward the door of the room to make sure that no

Beneath his pillow was a pocketmodel automatic pistol! Half dazed, Cliff remembered a vague fit of

wakefulness during the night, followed by a hazy dream that someone was in the room. He rose quickly from

With another glance at the door, he raised the pillow, half expecting to find nothing there. He had not been

A pocket .32, flat as a book, its magazine loaded to eightcartridge capacity. Standing by the bed, Cliff

slipped the handy weapon into his hip pocket. With the revolver was a box of cartridges. He dropped this in

With his back toward the wall, Cliff removed a message from the envelope. It was written in code, in ink. It

A message from The Shadow! Cliff was elated. Somehow, his leader had managed to penetrate to this

isolated spot; to bring him a weapon; to leave him instructions. Cliff understood. He slipped his hand to the

Sometime tonight, The Shadow intended to open an attack. Fiends of crime would meet their match,

elsewhere in this strange, castlelike abode. This wing would be under guard. It was Cliff's appointed task to

spring a surprise attack, to gain control of the wing, and hold it for whatever purpose The Shadow intended.

Thus The Shadow would strike from two directions. He himself would come from without; Cliff Marsland

This place was a vital spot. Cliff, by a sortie, could control the wing for The Shadow, and thus protect the

Cliff foresaw a struggle against giant odds, and the thought elated him. He knew well that he could hardly

hope to fight his way safety from this place, with nearly a score of enemies to block his path. But with The

Shadow beating down the opposition, matters were quite different. The Shadow alone was match for half a

CLIFF pondered. A pistol shot was to be the signal. He doubted that he could hear it. Then he remembered

the exact wording of the message, which had disappeared from the sheet of paper he had read.

The Shadow, should he open an attack, would meet with a cannonade from Orlinov's henchmen. Cliff would

hear that, surely. There was also the possibility of The Shadow waiting until midnight.

Cliff knew the exactness of his mysterious chief. Midnight would be the zero hour, if nothing transpired

before then. Cliff buried the envelope within the pages of a book. He thrust the paper with some other sheets.

He sat down in a chair and puffed at an unlighted cigarette. He was allowed no matches here.

The door opened, and Petri stepped in, carrying a tray of breakfast. Cliff looked stupidly toward the

solemnfaced Russian. He knew that Petri was backed by a mobster in the corridor.

He ate his breakfast after Petri had gone. He drank but little of the coffee furnished him, for he was convinced

The day wore on. A second meal at noon. Cliff busied himself reading various books that were in the room. A

Now, Cliff was tense. He realized well the security of his position. There was nothing in this room that could

be used as a weapon, save the gun that he had obtained without the knowledge of his captors. It was safely

tucked in his pocket. Orlinov and Petri were the only ones who had keys to this room. Any search of the

During the day, Cliff had come to the conclusion that The Shadow must have worked through one of

Orlinov's henchmen. He did not believe that The Shadow could be here; nor was it likely that he had sent

Tonight, The Shadow would attack from without, knowing that Cliff would be on hand to take charge in the

vital section of the castle. It would not be a question of Cliff fighting free; it would be The Shadow's work to

Eight o'clock arrived, then nine neared. Cliff was anxious and on edge. While he was trying to maintain his

It was with difficulty that Cliff restrained himself from action. He might have overpowered the bearded

Russian by a quick encounter, but he deemed it best to wait. He must not spoil The Shadow's welllaid plans.

ORLINOV walked toward Cliff and stood glaring at him. The big, bearded man was a menacing figure. Cliff

met his sparkling gaze with calmness. He saw one of the mobsmen in the background, holding a revolver in

This was a time for tact. Yet Cliff was perturbed. He feared that something must have gone awry; that

"Marslandt," growled Orlinov, in his deep bass, "I haff come here to speak with you. It iss wise that you

Cliff made no reply. He stared coldly toward his inquisitor. He was tempted to draw his automatic, but knew

that such action would provoke a crisis. It was not until the Russian spoke again that Cliff fully understood

"You haff come here," Orlinov declared, "to make trouble because someone hass sent you. We know who it

"You will tell us," he hissed. "You will tell us, Marslandt. Who iss The Shadow?"

"We shall see," declared Orlinov, in an ominous growl. "Let me tell you this Marslandt. We haff ways here

He uttered loud words in his native tongue. It was a call to Petri. The second Russian appeared from the

Again a command from Orlinov. Methodically, Petri approached and jabbed the muzzle of his gun into Cliff's

Cliff realized that he was being forced into a predicament that might prove as dangerous as it was

unexpected. His guard shoved him into the corridor; there a gangster waited, also armed. Along the corridor,

past the rows of silent doors then down the stairs they went, to the ground floor.

It was too late now to make a break for safety. There was nothing for Cliff to do but wait. At least his captors

Cliff's ears were keen, in case they might hear the report of a distant gun the signal that would denote the

Orlinov passed the little group when they reached the first floor. He unlocked a panel in the wall. The barrier

Cliff advanced when he heard the order. He entered the gloomy well and went down the steps, still feeling the

PETRI was a vigilant captor. Not for one instant did Cliff have an opportunity to reach for his gun.

He kept on his way until they reached a stonewalled room that had the mustiness of a dungeon. It was

lighted by a single incandescent. Through a door they went, into another room, which also had a single large

Cliff's lips pressed firmly together. He realized the purpose of this journey. They had reached a veritable

torture chamber, below the ground. At one side was a flat, spikestudded table. Across the room stood a

Here was a post, with manacles attached; there a yawning pit in the floor. Cliff's destination was a spot

against the wall, where four metal loops dangled on the ends of ropes which passed through pulleys. In

another moment, Cliff was backed against the side of the room, with Petri's revolver pressing the pit of his

Now the gangster member of the trio was covering Cliff. Orlinov stood by while Petri stooped to attach the

Petri walked to one side and turned a winch. It drew Cliff's body toward the right; as the rope went upward,

Methodically, Petri strode toward the other side of the room, and turned a second winch. Cliff's left arm was

hoisted forcibly. He stood spreadeagled in the clutches of the locking bands, while Orlinov's black face

"You see?" he questioned. "We haff placed you where you can tell. This iss how it hass been done in Siberia

many years ago. People have found it wise to speak when the torture hass been close to them."

He motioned the gangster to the other winch. With Petri at one side, and the gunman at the other, both

"I haff given you the chance!" hissed Orlinov "Speak! Tell me: Who iss The Shadow? What haff you known

Cliff remained obdurate. Orlinov signaled his men. They turned the winches. Cliff felt a terrific agony as his

limbs began to draw from his body. A gesture from the bearded Russian stopped the barbarous torture.

"You haff tasted what iss to follow," said Orlinov. "You shall haff more unless you speak "

Cliff's answer was a furious scowl. He was determined to withstand this barbarity. Orlinov watched him. Red

lips leered through the jetblack beard. A sign from Orlinov, and the winches turned farther.

As the strain ceased a second time, Cliff's maddened brain began to formulate a plan. He was willing to bear

His duty tonight was to serve The Shadow. Crippled and helpless, he would be of no use. It was a long time

until midnight. His endurance had not yet been fully taxed. Let them turn the winches farther; then he would

He could tell Orlinov of The Shadow for Cliff's information would at best be barren. Like the other agents

of The Shadow, he knew little of the mysterious man's ways. Yes, that was the best course: to hold out; then

While Cliff Marsland was thus planning, Orlinov, too, was scheming. He was a master of the almost extinct

art of torture. He intended to let Cliff Marsland suffer a while; then to ease him, that he might experience the

It was a battle of wits, with Orlinov the master. The huge Russian had looked forward to this hour, ever since

Whether The Shadow was alive or dead, Ivan Orlinov would force statements from the lips of his helpless

agent. Such work was a pleasure to the bearded fiend. The Russian spoke in his native tongue, and Petri

The grim game began again. The winches tautened the ropes. Cliff Marsland set his lips. Ivan Orlinov

THE light switched on in the living room of Orlinov's castle. Glade Tremont entered and sat down in a chair.

He lighted a cigar and stared thoughtfully at the large box which stood beside the fireplace.

The grayhaired lawyer had undergone a metamorphosis during the stay at Glendale. Association with Ivan

Orlinov had caused a change. Here, away from his staid office in New York, the attorney had lost his mask of

It appeared from Tremont's air that he was expecting the arrival of someone. He had left the door of the room

open. His eyes were watching toward the hall. The lawyer glanced at his watch. He rose and began to pace

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Tremont waited. A figure appeared, and Tremont recognized Doctor Gerald

Savette. He waved a welcome to his companion in crime. The rascally physician entered, and the two seated

"Yes," said Tremont, with an evil smile. "We have kept the box here, awaiting your arrival."

"We discussed that, Orlinov and I. We decided to wait, chiefly because the box is such a strong one. We

knew that you would have the keys. The contents are valuable, you know. It would not be wise to damage

"That's true," said Savette. "No use to you until I arrived. I gave the usual death dose fortyeight hours.

There is plenty of time yet. We could wait another night; but I think it would be best to open the box now."

He brought the keys from his pocket; then, as an afterthought, he left the living room and returned with

"This is the missing link," he declared. "Its contents are as vital as those of the box."

He laid the suitcase on the floor, and opened it. Tremont drew close to watch the examination of the

"Where is Orlinov?" asked Savette, as he started to lift some books from the suitcase.

"He is quizzing this man Marsland," answered Tremont. "They are downstairs below ground in the wing

Savette uttered a sharp exclamation as he dropped a book upon the floor. He stood up and faced Tremont, an

"That's a mistake!" he declared "A bad mistake, Glade! Nothing can be gained. Something may be lost!"

"Marsland won't talk. Probably he can't talk. You know enough of The Shadow's ways to realize that. We are

only keeping Marsland here because we have not yet gained positive evidence that The Shadow is dead."

"Orlinov has been anxious to test Marsland," declared Tremont. "It occurred to me that he might learn

something of value that would enable us to trace The Shadow's lair to assure ourselves that the dangerous

"The fellow will resist," warned Savette. "Orlinov may carry the torture too far. He will learn nothing, and

Marsland may die. Then it would be our ill fortune to find The Shadow alive and active. Our hostage would

"Don't worry about Orlinov," he said. "Ivan is a craftsman in torture. He will not overdo it. He handles his

victims as a cat plays with a mouse. When he proposed torture for Marsland, I agreed. I wanted to see how he

"He tells me that he will work to break the man's endurance. Easily, slowly then a period of relief that is

worse than the torture itself. Orlinov swears he will make Marsland talk. He is going about it by degrees. So

there is no cause for alarm. Our precious hostage will not die at least not tonight."

SAVETTE pondered, then shrugged his shoulders. After all, torture was Orlinov's stock in trade. Savette

"If Marsland gives out," added Tremont, "Orlinov will stop for tonight. If he gives in under the strain,

Orlinov has promised to let me know immediately. He will come up here when Marsland expresses his

"Here's wishing Orlinov luck," declared Savette. "It's good practice for him, after all. We have a new

customer who may need treatment" Savette pointed over his shoulder to the big box "so if Orlinov

experiments with Marsland it may do good rather than harm. I'll take your word for it that he is using

Forgetting Marsland's situation, Savette again stooped before the suitcase and began to pass various articles

"Look them over," grinned the renegade physician. "This is a gold mine, Glade. A real gold mine. Better than

"I caught Cranston just as he was leaving for parts unknown, to be gone for two years. He is now a dead man

who will live and people will not know it for a while, so long as he signs his checks and sends his written

"We can take it slowly and wisely. Time it with the progress of our experiments here. Then, when we are

through with the others, we will be through with Cranston, too. He will go out with the rest."

"Cover it? By letters that he himself writes. I shall go abroad, Glade. Word will come back that Cranston is in

Africa, going to a dangerous region of the jungle. It will be easy to plant the evidence especially with

Cranston's own letters. He will not come back that is all. I'm glad I waited for this. It is the best and safest

"All that can be desired," declared the lawyer. "The television work is actually done. Something new may

develop in it but it has already exceeded our expectation. The energy device will require more time to get it

to the point we want. It is a sure proposition, however. A little trouble with the air inventions. That will be

Doctor Savette stood up. His face gleamed; he laughed harshly. Silently, he began to display the articles that

he had stolen from Cranston. Checkbooks, with balances marked in them. Account books, carefully prepared

"I know that lawyer, Bartram," he said. "A soft egg, if ever there was one. He looks like a human jellyfish.

"Suppose an unknown inventor shows up in New York a man with an idea in television, for instance.

Taking up work that another dropped through death. Bartram is then instructed to give this chap money "

"A good tieup," interjected Savette, as the lawyer paused. "That will all come later. It is just a case of

playing a perfect game. The cards are in our hands. Everything has been smooth here. It will continue to be

There was a thump at the door. Savette dropped the loose articles back into the portmanteau. He nodded to

BIFF TOWLEY entered. The gang leader was hardly recognizable. A broad strip of adhesive plaster was

across the bridge of his nose. His forehead and his cheeks were puffed and blackish.

Towley's physiognomy was not a handsome one at best. When The Shadow had bashed it with the revolver

he had changed the contour of the vile countenance. Biff Towley had good reason to remember that gunfight

Savette stared curiously at the gang leader. He had known of Towley's plight, and it would be his work to

Tremont looked at Savette. Both men had the same thought. The Shadow! Could it be possible that the man

"Maybe it is just some prowler," declared the lawyer. "We have put on strict guard. We are taking no chances

"It's not a good idea to bring the fellow in, then," said Savette. "If he is just someone from the vicinity, he

"Don't worry about that," replied Tremont. "No one has a right trespassing on this property. If this man

appears to know nothing, I shall simply reprimand him for entering the grounds. Orlinov has done that to

The door opened, and a man entered. Biff Towley was right behind him. The gang leader was playing the part

of a grounds keeper on the estate. Savette could see that he was holding a revolver in readiness.

"Here he is, sir," declared Towley. "I thought I had better bring him in here, Mr. Tremont, because I found

He tossed a small automatic into a chair beside the lawyer. Tremont picked up the gun and examined it. He

calmly released the safety lock. Thus armed with a loaded pistol, he was in readiness, although his action

The man whom Biff Towley had brought in was standing with bowed head. His pose did not make him

appear formidable. Tremont uttered a terse order, bidding Towley to leave. The gang leader retired, leaving

The man raised his head. Simultaneously, gasps of astonishment came from both Tremont and Savette. Then

"Harold Sharrock!" said the lawyer, in a sarcastic tone. "Just the man we have wanted. Walked right in to see

Sharrock, tall and weakchinned, stared in a stupefied manner as he faced his captors. He seemed to be

Glade Tremont's chuckle trailed into a dwindling laugh that boded no good for this unexpected visitor.

That he would presently explain. Glade Tremont's grim gaze showed that he intended to make Sharrock talk.

Glade Tremont's short, harsh question was uttered as he stared into Harold Sharrock's eyes. They were mild,

lightgray eyes that flinched as they met the lawyer's gaze. Then, with an effort, Sharrock tried to gain

A flush came to his pasty face. His weak eyes glistened. He bit his colorless lips as he looked from Tremont

to Savette. His manner showed that he knew these men, and understood the evil in their hearts.

"I've come back," declared Sharrock hoarsely. "Come back, for an accounting. That's all."

"I landed this morning," he said. "I went up to watch your house. I followed you when you went to take the

train. I did not know where you were going. I did not know that you had this place here. When I saw you

Hatred flashed in Sharrock's face as he delivered this outburst. Tremont and Savette both received the

"Your return is a fortunate one," declared Savette. "We can use some of those funds which belong to us."

"Belong to you!" Sharrock's cry was contemptuous. "Nothing belongs to you! There is nothing for you to get.

"Hmmm," chuckled Glade Tremont. "Now I suppose you would like to have us finance you?"

"You can guess why I'm here," blurted Sharrock. "I'm going to face the music, that's all. Kill me, if you want.

That's better than jail. I've come here to see if Austin is still alive to make up for the evil that I have done

"While you had the money, you forgot Austin Bellamy," he said. "Now you appear to have a conscience. A

very useless possession a conscience. I wonder what it feels like a conscience?"

He looked at Savette, and the physician laughed. Like Tremont, he was conscienceless.

"SAY what you want, you crooks!" said Sharrock hoarsely. "You started the dirty work. You and that

"What of it?" questioned Tremont. "You are only giving us credit for an excellent idea. I happened to be your

stepbrother's lawyer. Doctor Savette chanced to be his physician. We saw that you had been wrongfully cut

off in his new will. So we quietly arranged his death with your approval and kept him alive, with Ivan

"Yes," retorted Sharrock. "You did it for half a million. Then you kept Austin Bellamy because he was a

"You bled me a hundred thousand dollars at a time to get the entire two million. I got away, to France,

with half a million left. There are crooks there, too. I was in no mood to ward them off.

"I'm back now, broke all except a few thousands. I'm going to come clean. I've come to tell you that. I

"He is alive," interposed Tremont. "Alive and well. That means we still have the threat which you have

"That is not all," added Savette. "You speak of us killing you, Sharrock. That is a good suggestion one

which we shall use. But we have a few other devices that are better than death. We have progressed since our

early days, when we kept your dear stepbrother doped in a cottage on the Jersey coast."

"I've figured that," said Sharrock bitterly. "You bought this place with my money "

"With anybody's money but yours!" cried Sharrock. "You are up to new mischief. You had a cottage; now

you have a castle. I know your game! You are tricking others holding new prisoners "

"Excellent reasoning," declared Tremont ironically, as Sharrock paused. "You have made a perfect deduction,

"We are keeping this establishment. It is well guarded. It is necessary. So to terminate our discussion with

you, we shall let you travel the route that others have taken, since your stepbrother made the precedent.

Sharrock's face blanched. He trembled. Tremont and Savette indulged in villainous smiles.

"To kill you would be a pleasure," declared Tremont. "Unfortunately, we do not know what foolish things

you may have done before you reached here. It would be best to have you alive so that you can speak

"So you shall taste of death. It was kind of you to come here. Others have not been so obliging. That box"

he pointed to the heavy object by the fireplace "contains one new member for our colony. We were forced

"What do you say, doctor? We are very busy at present" Tremont was smiling toward Savette "and we

cannot be annoyed with our good friend Sharrock at this moment. Shall we put him away for the death period

With a suave smile, Savette removed a hypodermic syringe from his pocket. Sharrock quailed as he saw the

object. Then the threat of the revolver held by Tremont became imminent. Sharrock stood trembling, fearing

Doctor Savette approached the helpless man. He threw back Sharrock's arms, and wrested his coat from his

body. He tore away the sleeve of the man's shirt. He raised the syringe and prepared to thrust its needle into

PALE, tottering, Sharrock began to edge away. A short word came from Tremont. Sharrock saw the threat of

He faced two deaths: that of the needle would be temporary; that of the gun would be permanent. He knew

that he must accept one. He looked from Tremont to Savette. There was no mercy in either of those livid

"Wait!" exclaimed Sharrock, in futile tone. "Let me talk. Maybe I can can forget what I know "

"You will forget it," declared Tremont coldly. "Certainly. We are arranging that at present. I give you

warning, Sharrock. We do not intend to waste more time with you. You have your choice the needle or a

"You have no friends here. If you flinch or refuse to take the hypodermic, I shall shoot you through your

yellow heart. We are not afraid of anything you may have done. Do not hope that I shall spare you."

Sharrock knew well that Tremont was speaking facts. Motionless, he stared weakly at the lawyer. Tremont

Savette, nearer to Tremont than Sharrock was, stood away from the line of the lawyer's aim, calmly holding

The three men formed a strange tableau, their profiles toward the fireplace, where no embers glowed tonight.

Savette was awaiting a signal from Tremont an indication whether he should go ahead with the injection or

No eyes were upon the huge box. Something was happening there. The lone pivot hinge on one side of the

box was moving noiselessly upward, actuated by some mechanism operated from the interior. The motion of

Now the door of the box was opening, slowly and silently opening at the side where the hinge had lifted.

The strong padlocks, with their firm hasps and staples, were serving as a hinge! The door was opening the

Clear of the tricky hinge, released by slots that were now freed, the door swung wide, pushed open by a hand

from within. The noise of that opening turned six eyes toward the box. Tremont, Savette, and Sharrock gazed

Moving forward from the box was the crouching, huddled form of a man clad entirely in black. He was a

blotted form, his body shapeless under its black cloak, his features invisible under the protecting edge of a

broadbrimmed hat. His hands were thrust forward. They alone seemed alive. Blackclad hands in each an

One gun was trained on Tremont; the other covered Savette. The black form continued its emergence. It rose

The cry came from Savette's lips. It was echoed by Tremont's weak gasp. The answer was a sinister,

whispered laugh from lips that the cloak collar covered. The laugh of The Shadow! The laugh of a man

Neither villain dared move. Fiends that they were, they trembled. Sharrock stood dumfounded at the sight of

Again, The Shadow laughed. He had caught his archenemies by a welltimed ruse. The dread avenger was

here, to settle scores, in the very lair of his foe. With guarding mobsmen outside, protected by the walls of a

The Shadow's laugh was the sardonic mirth of vengeance. It was a laugh that boded death!

The words were gasped by foamflecked lips. Cliff Marsland, in the agony of exquisite torture, was calling

His choking voice could say no more. The strain of the maddening, limbwrenching winches was too great

Orlinov gave two commands. Both were the same. One was in Russian, and the other in English. Slowly, the

winches were released. Cliff's arms dropped. The ropes became slack. He crumpled to the floor and lay there,

Ivan Orlinov stared long at the man whom he had tortured. It was apparent that Cliff Marsland had held out

until complete anguish forced him to yield. He had lost his senses now. Orlinov was sorry. It might be some

Cliff had indeed suffered; but not so much as Orlinov supposed. All through the torture, he had played a part.

He had winced without an outcry, feigning pain so effectively that Orlinov had imagined his anguish far

Now, too, Cliff was playing a part. He had tried to delay this torture until he felt that it was bringing injury

from which he could not easily recover. The wrenching had reached that state. Then, Cliff had uttered his

On the floor, he resembled a man who had lost consciousness. Orlinov leaned over him and shook his body

roughly. Cliff made no response. The Russian was convinced that his victim was senseless

Orlinov became thoughtful. This torture had taken some time. It was late in the evening, now. By this time,

Doctor Gerald Savette would be here. Both he and Tremont would want to see the victim; to hear Cliff

The Russian knew his game. He had learned that the combined remembrance of past torture, coupled with the

threat of future, was a weapon that could force the most hardened man to speak. In addition, present ease as

a pleasant lapse between two racking sessions was also a way to make obdurate persons reasonable.

Cliff Marsland, weakened, unconscious, and weaponless, could make no trouble here. Orlinov signaled to

Petri and the gangster. The men approached while the big Russian undid the fetters that held Marsland's arms

THE underlings raised Cliff Marsland, and carried his helpless body to a couch in an obscure corner of the

room. They placed him so his head was propped up on a pillow. His arms and legs were sprawled.

Cliff's eyes were closed; but when he opened them, he would see the room before him. He would view the

pulleyed ropes that had caused his former torture. He would observe the other implements of brutality which

It would not be a pleasant thought the possibility of running the gamut of Ivan Orlinov's grim devices. The

Several minutes went by. Orlinov was waiting. He did not care to summon Tremont and Savette until this

man would be ready to speak. Orlinov intended to put on an exhibition of his skill, the methods that he had

Cliff Marsland stirred, but his eyes did not open. His head rolled to one side. He seemed to sense the agony

that he had suffered. He raised his arms and pressed them against his body. He turned on his right side, his

A clever ruse! One that was natural enough to deceive Ivan Orlinov. It placed Cliff's right hand out of view,

close to his hip pocket. At that instant he could have yanked out his gun and started a battle for safety. Both

There were two reasons why Cliff desisted. One was because he had suffered greatly and was weak. Each

minute, he knew, would help him to recuperate. The second was because time was moving. Any minute, now,

Orlinov studied Cliff closely. It appeared as though the victim had again lapsed into unconsciousness.

Nevertheless, he could easily be revived, since he had shown momentary signs of life. Orlinov spoke to Petri;

"Wait here. Wait until I return. If he hass begun to awake, watch him close. Haff your revolfer ready."

"Sure thing," growled the gunman, drawing his revolver and brandishing it significantly.

Orlinov departed. Cliff lay motionless. He did not allow his eyelids to even tremble. He could hear Orlinov's

Cliff's fingers, hidden, clutched the handle of the automatic. At any moment, now, he could begin a surprise

A sudden leap, a drawn gun that was his chance to catch his adversaries off guard. He would have to beat

Listening, Cliff could hear signs that indicated where each of his enemies stood. Even should Orlinov return,

Cliff could act, for he felt sure that the bearded Russian would have no gun in readiness.

The time for action might be imminent. Cliff's one fear was that this would prolong until midnight. How

This was a dilemma. The minutes on the rack had been torturous ones that had seemed much longer then they

It might be ten o'clock eleven even past midnight for all Cliff knew. His natural craving for action

urged him to draw his gun now, while he had the opportunity. But that might mean action before the arrival

Without the man in black to help him, Cliff's efforts to escape could be no more than futile. There were too

many mobsmen on these premises. Hasty action would spoil all. Patient waiting might bring success.

So Cliff Marsland waited. Possumlike, he feigned unconsciousness, waiting for the signal that would mean

THE echoes of a sinister, whispered laugh died away. The Shadow, master in the lair of villains, made a

Understanding, Glade Tremont lowered his hand and reluctantly dropped the weapon which he held. Gerald

The Shadow's burning eyes glared at the men whom he had trapped. They were helpless, and they knew it.

The tall man nodded. He was trying to recover his wits. Mechanically, he obtained the gun which Tremont

had dropped on the floor. He stood between the two men whom The Shadow dominated.

He laughed as he addressed these words to Tremont and Savette. The strange emphasis on each uttered

syllable made the villains tremble. Men without mercy, they expected none now. The Shadow was a

superman. The fact that he still lived made him more amazing, in their minds, than before.

"You thought me dead," repeated The Shadow. "But I live as you have learned. I know your schemes in

full. I knew your ways of plotting. Money. You needed it, Savette. You were looking for a victim. You found

The Shadow paused, and Savette understood. The echoed mockery of another laugh came as a hateful sound

"What little of your work I did not know," resumed The Shadow, "I have learned tonight. I shall tell you of

"Austin Bellamy was your first victim. Lawyer betrayed his client; physician, his patient. Your death serum,

Savette, worked then for the first time. You spirited Bellamy from your sanitarium, a few years ago. Then

"With wealth gained through your pact with Sharrock, you two placed Orlinov in this castle. You became

brain thieves. Professor Pierre Rachaud was your first victim. He never sailed on the Albania when it left

"You had trapped him before that. He was on his way here in a box. You posed as Rachaud. All that went

overboard were clothes and false whiskers through the porthole of your cabin. Then smug Doctor Savette

Savette looked at Tremont as The Shadow paused. The man in black had spoken the truth. He had detected

"CLARK MURDOCK was the next," resumed The Shadow. "I was at his house that night when you seized

him and left the body of a dead man in his place. I heard Murdock speak to his servant about the box.

"At that time, I suspected that someone might have designs on Murdock's life, but I did not believe that

"You, Tremont, have told me how you snared Matt Hartley. You would never have succeeded, had you not

trapped Marsland, my man here. From then on, you thought you had me helpless. There was no way whereby

The Shadow's laugh was mocking as it crept softly through the room and reverberated eerily from every

"Lamont Cranston was the way," announced The Shadow. "Lamont Cranston, because he was The Shadow.

This box was waiting for you, Savette. You came to Cranston's home with your faithful hypodermic. You did

not see Cranston place another in the pocket of your coat, and take yours in its stead.

"You did not choose to take the taboret. So Cranston used it, after you had gone to summon the truckmen. He

opened the hinge of this box. From the hollow taboret he took certain articles which he required. In the box,

A realization dawned on Savette. He remembered how light the taboret had seemed, when he had lifted it

after pushing it before. No wonder. It had contained the weapons and the garb that were a part of The Shadow

"Tonight," continued The Shadow, "you shall know the death that you imposed upon others. The death from

which men awake. Within this building dead men live. They will be released tonight; you shall remain.

"That syringe which you hold, Doctor Savette, will do nicely for Glade Tremont. I shall let you make the

injection. I have another in my pocket. You will receive an injection from my hand. When you awake, you

two, affairs will be different here. Ivan Orlinov and his horde will be gone. I shall settle with them."

The Shadow pronounced these words with amazing calmness. He spoke as though the conquering of a crowd

Savette tried to sneer. Tremont was pale. He remembered his awakening after the battle on the dock. The

Shadow had fought then to protect himself. Tonight, he would have the advantage of a surprise attack.

"We shall delay no longer," gibed The Shadow. "Go, Savette. Use that hypodermic which you hold. Tremont

MECHANICALLY, the physician approached Glade Tremont. He dared not disobey The Shadow. The tables

were turned, and Savette knew well that The Shadow would not hesitate to start his battle here by first

Grim retribution! These monsters were to taste that state of oblivion which they had forced upon others. They

No alternative offering, Gerald Savette wrenched away Tremont's coat and tore off the lawyer's sleeve. He

was treating his accomplice as he had treated Harold Sharrock, who now stood pale and tense, watching this

Glade Tremont offered no resistance. Like Savette, he was a beaten man. Neither one could stand against The

Shadow. Even glowering looks were gone. Hopelessness had replaced animosity. The fiends were

The Shadow had spoken. His captives were forced to obey. Savette raised the hypodermic. Tremont quailed.

That single word sounded like the knell of doom. There was no escape. Savette prepared to make the

injection. Then, suddenly, he stood still, and his eyes regained their shrewdness. For a moment. They had

Quickly, Savette dropped his eyes toward Tremont's arm. He appeared to be busy with the hypodermic. But

The Shadow's quick eyes darted toward the door. There, a wicket had opened. And, noiselessly, a panel had

Peering through the hole in the door was the fierce, bearded face of Ivan Orlinov!

Something gleamed beside that blackened countenance. Orlinov was bringing the muzzle of a revolver into

The game had been discovered. Orlinov, coming to conduct his confederates to the torture chamber below,

had been wary. He had heard the sound of voices. He had decided to look in to learn what had transpired

Now he was preparing to slay The Shadow. He had arrived in the nick of time to save his companions from

Their chances of success were equal. The Russian, with his gun beside his face, had a difficult aim to make,

Orlinov's countenance, framed in the open panel, was a small mark, but one which The Shadow could cover

Had Orlinov attempted to beat The Shadow to the shot, he might have succeeded. But the Russian played a

quicker, more instinctive game. He dropped away from the open panel. The little barrier slid down to receive

Tremont and Savette were acting ere the automatic roared. So sure were they that Orlinov would not fail that

Savette dropped the syringe as he and Tremont sprang forward. All odds were with Sharrock. He had only to

draw away and pump his enemies with bullets. But he acted too late. He did not shoot until the men were

His gun sounded a muffled report as the three tumbled. Then The Shadow's automatic spoke to rescue him.

Savette, the upper of the three, received a bullet, and fell away from the struggling forms.

Muffled shots were repeated as Savette dropped. Sharrock rolled over, and Tremont staggered away from

him, holding the pistol in readiness for another shot. The Shadow's welltimed aim was again effective. His

Now, The Shadow was sweeping toward the door. Just as he reached it, the barrier was hurled inward.

They had heard the shots. They had come at Orlinov's bidding. They were making a mass attack to trap The

Here he was upon them, his automatics pumping lead, his tall form swinging away behind the door. A few

wild shots responded. They were all. The mobsmen had been too sure of themselves. They had walked into a

He had not saved a single bullet. In this emergency, he discharged every cartridge. His enemies were on the

floor. The Shadow was unscathed. Laughing, loud and fiercely, he flung away his pistols and drew two new

Into the hall strode The Shadow. Three gunners were entering the front door. The Shadow's automatics jerked

Two shots from each gun. Four bullets one more than needed. Three gangsters lay within the door, their

A hand flashed from the sliding door that led to the wing. Orlinov's revolver answered. A bullet swished

One of those automatics answered as the hand slipped away. The shot was perfect. Ivan Orlinov uttered a cry

The Russian did not wait. He did not attempt to fasten the barrier. He fled along the corridor, The Shadow in

pursuit. The man in black fired one shot that was too late. Orlinov was turning the corner as The Shadow

THEN, from the other end of the corridor, appeared a wild, disheveled man with upraised automatic. The

It was Cliff Marsland, coming from below, his smoking pistol telling of the work that he had done.

The sound of The Shadow's cannonade had reached the torture chamber. Cliff had acted. Both Petri and the

Sweeping forward, The Shadow pointed to the barrier through which he had come. Cliff understood. He was

They passed at the center of the corridor, Cliff hastening to the door, The Shadow heading for the stairs. The

The stairs were gloomy, and The Shadow became a creature of the dark as he glided upward, step by step.

Lost in a darkened corner, his gleaming eyes detected a crouching gangster Orlinov's man who guarded the

The watcher saw a slight motion the movement of a phantom shape. As he aimed his revolver in that

direction, a burst of flame came from the spot. The gunman fell headlong down the steps, another victim of

The Shadow was moving upward now. He stepped across the gangster's body. He paused by the corner, and

Ivan Orlinov, a revolver in his unscathed hand, was peering toward the stairs. He saw no human form; but

across the floor of the corridor, he discerned a long, silhouetted patch of black. He fired.

It was a hopeless effort. The Shadow's automatic barked. Orlinov's one good wrist was crippled.

Now The Shadow, like a living monster, approached the cringing Russian. Yet Orlinov, despite his fear, was

grinning defiantly, his white teeth glittering through the blackened clump of hair that formed his beard.

"You haff come too late!" snarled the Russian. "You haff not stopped me. I haff released the gas. The dead

A dangling cord told what Orlinov had done. The Shadow laughed softly. This was the threat; the way

whereby all prisoners in those little rooms could be disposed of in emergency. So Orlinov had planned.

With no more thought of his helpless enemy, The Shadow reached beneath his cloak and drew forth a key. He

inserted it in a door and turned the lock. He went to a second door; then a third and a fourth. Orlinov watched

Then, one by one, four men came forth, each from a different room. Austin Bellamy, a worn, haggard old

Clark Murdock, keen and shrewdeyed, stared at The Shadow; then glared toward Orlinov. Professor Pierre

Rachaud, a quiet, bearded Frenchman, appeared perplexed. Matt Hartley, a stalwart, middleaged man, stood

"YOU are the dead," he announced. "The dead who lived to do the bidding of this fiend and two other

The voice of The Shadow was a weird, creepy whisper, that seemed unreal. It was as though the walls of that

strange corridor had spoken, with the man in black a mere figure in their midst. Although those words meant

freedom to the men who heard them, none could repress a shudder at the eerie voice.

"That cord" the muzzle of The Shadow's righthand gun indicated the dangling rope "was drawn by

Orlinov. It would have released a poison gas to kill you all. Last night, however" The Shadow's eyes

Orlinov snarled in helpless fury. The Shadow stood above him, the suppressed sound of taunting mirth

Suddenly, the mocking figure became motionless and erect. Shots were echoing from the floor below.

Turning, The Shadow swept away, his cloak swishing audibly as he moved rapidly toward the stairs. A

second later, he was gone, leaving four stupefied men glaring at the crippled fiend who was sitting on the

Then came a wild, highpitched cry. Austin Bellamy, who for years had suffered at the hands of Orlinov,

leaped forward in maddened fury. His clawing hands tore at the Russian's beard. His long, bony fingers dug

The Russian sought to resist. With both hands crippled, he could not manage to control the man who had

Like a mongoose battling a poison cobra, Austin Bellamy, with all the pentup rage of unhappy months,

hurled the huge Russian back and forth, choking him, beating his head against the floor and walls.

None of the others moved to stop him. They, too, had suffered. Primitive though Bellamy's vengeance was,

When the fierce old man fell exhausted on the floor, Orlinov's head was tilted, as though unhinged from his

More shots were heard from below. The rescued men moved in a file. Hartley picked up Orlinov's revolver.

In the corridor, on the ground floor, the men found still another mobster, wounded and dying. The sliding

Pierre Rachaud was third; behind him, Austin Bellamy dragged wearily along. More bodies in the hall. The

front door was open. A man stepped in and held up his hand. It was Cliff Marsland.

The others recognized that he was a friend. Silently, Cliff led them to the living room. There, on the floor, he

Gerald Savette and Glade Tremont had perished. Bullets from The Shadow's gun and the shots fired by

The third man was Sharrock, himself. He was dying, from a wound received when Tremont had wrested the

revolver away. Sharrock, the man who had sought to make amends, stared glassily at Austin Bellamy.

The old man's face, hardened from hatred for Orlinov, softened now. He knew that Sharrock had betrayed

Bellamy stooped to the floor and raised his stepbrother's head. Thus, with friendly eyes upon him, with

Cliff Marsland beckoned the others to the hall. Solemnly, they went to the porch. There they stood in

darkness, looking across the moonbathed lawn, no longer dominated by gangster hordes.

"AN alarm will be raised," explained Cliff Marsland quietly. "Police will be here shortly. I was a prisoner

here, too. I was Orlinov's secretary. He trapped me when he learned that I was investigating matters here."

"Who was the man upstairs?" questioned Matt Hartley. "The man in black the one who shot the Russian.

"He was the one who rescued us," said Cliff. "They had me in the torture chamber when he attacked. I met

The name passed like magic from one to another. The fame of The Shadow was known. The rescued men

Cliff stepped from the porch, and stood upon the lawn, staring up toward the old gray castle. The other men

The huge masonry of Glamartin was silent now silent, where guns had thundered. The last surging wave of

mobsters had entered while Cliff was guarding the corridor. The Shadow had arrived in time to meet them.

Off in the shrubbery, scattered by the walls, in other spots of temporary safety lay wounded men and dying

Glade Tremont, Gerald Savette, Ivan Orlinov, and Biff Towley. All four were dead. No man who had

claimed leadership of any portion of the gangster crew remained alive now. Cliff could claim a share in the

victorious struggle for right; but it was The Shadow's mastery that had dominated the battle.

A distant shot rang across the lawn, and echoed from the cold gray walls of the castlelike building. The

The Shadow had met the henchman at the gate. The last of the mob of evildoers had met his match.

Swallowed in the mountain night, The Shadow had finished the only enemy who remained to menace the

Cliff fancied that he could hear the faint tones of a faraway laugh a long, gibing peal of weird mirth that