LOOT OF DEATH.............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. CRIME GAINS A MILLION...........................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. CROOKS CHOOSE FLIGHT.........................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE LAW'S MISTAKE .................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. NEWS FOR THE SHADOW .......................................................................................11

CHAPTER V. SHARED SPOILS.........................................................................................................15

CHAPTER VI. THE MIDNIGHT MEETING......................................................................................18

CHAPTER VII. VANISHED EVIDENCE...........................................................................................21

CHAPTER VIII. FALSE WEALTH'S TALE.......................................................................................26

CHAPTER IX. THE BANK CONFERENCE .......................................................................................30

CHAPTER X. THE THRUST AT SIX.................................................................................................34

CHAPTER XI. THE TRAIL FROM THE PAST ..................................................................................38

CHAPTER XII. CROOKS TURN SLEUTHS......................................................................................42

CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN FROM SAVANNAH ..............................................................................46

CHAPTER XIV. TRAILS CROSS.......................................................................................................49

CHAPTER XV. DEATH COVERS DEATH ........................................................................................52

CHAPTER XVI. PLANS AT DUSK....................................................................................................57

CHAPTER XVII. CRIME'S LAIR ........................................................................................................60

CHAPTER XVIII. THE LAST DECREE.............................................................................................63

CHAPTER XIX. THE LAW MOVES ANEW.....................................................................................67

CHAPTER XX. DISPUTED EVIDENCE............................................................................................70

CHAPTER XXI. CRIME REVEALED................................................................................................74

CHAPTER XXII. WEALTH REGAINED ............................................................................................78

THE Northwark National Bank occupied a corner of the ground floor in a huge Manhattan skyscraper. The

main entrance was on the east side of a busy avenue; there was also a small entrance from the south side of a

Entering from that smaller doorway, a visitor gained the best view of the banking floor. On his right lay

offices and open space, that ran along the front wall of the bank. This expanse was broken in the middle by

On the visitor's left were the tellers' windows, that formed a long, unbroken line. At the far wall the south

There was one other feature of the banking floor. The open expanse at the front was protected from intruders

by small, railed spaces. Those spaces were occupied by desks that served the cashier, his assistants, and

C. Daniel Jennery, the cashier, had a desk in the space just outside the president's office; but he was seldom at

it. He left most of the detail work to his assistants, while he roamed between offices and tellers' windows.

Jennery was tall, stoopshouldered, and crablike of gait; but he offset his awkward appearance by the

carefulness of his attire. He always wore graystriped trousers, with a black frock coat; and he sported a

Jennery was about fortyfive, but he looked older. His face was dryish and droopy; his long nose gave him a

shrewd look. So did his eyes; they were small, but sharp. The only feature that offset Jennery's keenness was

his nervousness. He had a habit of cocking his head to one side, shaking it slightly as he did. His lips were apt

to twitch when he spoke; and his eyes blinked when he looked squarely at anyone.

Around the bank, he had gained the nickname of "Jittery Jennery," which fitted him excellently.

The Northwark National remained open until nine o'clock on Friday evenings; and during those special

banking hours, Jennery was usually at his desk. On this particular Friday, the cashier was seated where he

belonged; with arms folded, he was looking at the big clock that registered half past eight, when a man came

THE arrival was a bluntfaced man. His forehead was wide, his nose flattish. His lower lip had a slight

outward thrust above his straight chin. The stranger's eyes looked friendly; but Jennery noted that they varied

in color. Both were bluish; but one had a distinct trace of spotty green that showed only because the man

"Where's your boss?" The bluntfaced man waved his left hand toward the president's office. "Is he still in

No," replied Jennery. "Mr. Leddison went home at five. However" Jennery pursed his lips importantly

"You'll do, then." The bluntfaced man shifted his right side toward Jennery. "I'll talk and you'll listen. First

off, sit where you are and don't make any funny moves! I've got a rod here, and it's poked straight for you!"

Jennery blinked. The stranger's right hand was in his pocket, and Jennery could see the bulge of a revolver.

Moreover, the man's unmatched eyes had taken on a glower that meant business. Jennery nodded his

willingness to listen. He cocked his head toward the visitor and gripped his desk with hands that trembled.

"We know this joint is fixed in case of trouble," growled the man with the revolver. "Somewhere in back of

those tellers' windows, you've got a guy who can shoot tear gas and spring an alarm with just one kick of his

"No stalling, mug!" The growled undertone was harsher than before. "Listen! We've done some fixing here

ourselves. That big chandelier that was installed a month ago has got a load of TNT in it. There's a fellow

outside, ready to shoot the juice. If I go out of here disappointed, the whole place will be blown blooey! I

Jennery looked nervously toward the chandelier. His gaze dropped lower; he saw short lines of people at the

tellers' windows. He quailed at thought of wholesale death. Jennery knew that the chandelier could have been

fixed. He remembered that it had been installed at night, by a chance crew of workmen. Those men could

"How about it?" Ugly eyes were glaring hard at Jennery. "Who's the keyman behind those windows?"

Jennery arose shakily. Accompanied by the bluntfaced man, he left the railed enclosure and approached the

third teller's window. The man with the gun was at his elbow, half behind Jennery so that Creeve could not

RALPH CREEVE was a husky chap of about thirty. His face, too, marked him as a man who could be

entrusted with important duty. Creeve was squarejawed and quickeyed. The big forehead beneath his

sleek, black hair was an indication that he might be a swift thinker. Creeve looked like the right man for an

Jennery, his ribs nudged by the gun muzzle, stepped in front of four depositors at the window and requested:

Though Jennery gave a lip twitch as he spoke, Creeve did not seem to notice it. Accustomed to Jennery's

nervous manner, Creeve simply nodded. He paid off a depositor; then closed his wicket and pointed the other

customers to another window. Coming out from behind his cage, Creeve took a circuitous route and reached a

gate near the doorway to the vault. Jennery and the stranger were there to meet him.

The oddeyed man sprang away from Jennery and Creeve. With a snarIed signal, he whipped his revolver

The cashier cowered; the head teller made a motion as though to dash back to his station, then halted as he

Other tellers heard the snarl, looked from their windows in alarm. Some reached for guns below their

counters; one started toward Creeve's vacated post. A watchman by the outer door was quick to draw a

Three men, who were pretending to write out checks at a corner desk, had swung about at the signal. All were

drawing on improvised handkerchief masks. Each flashed a revolver. They caught the tellers and the

The tellers reached their hands upward and stood where they were. The watchman let his gun crack the floor.

In from the long front passage piled four more marauders; they were waiting lurkers, masked and ready with

guns. While they covered the shrinking depositors, their leader appeared from the side street. A squatty,

heavybuilt ruffian, he showed a long chin beneath the handkerchief mask that he wore. He held a gun in his

The masked leader's stride was a swagger, as he marched the length of the banking floor to join the

bluntfaced man who held Jennery and Creeve at bay. His long paces, though, were marked by a slight limp

"I'll take over." Backed by two masked followers, the leader gave that announcement to the bluntfaced man.

NUDGED by revolvers, Jennery and Creeve hustled through the doorway and stopped in front of the huge

vault. The door was open. Turning, about, Jennery spoke pleadingly: "There's no money in here. It's all with

"Want me to pick up small change, don't you?" he demanded. "Ten grand, or so, that you keep on tap for the

customers who show up at night. You can have that dough. I won't waste time with it!"

The rogue was rummaging through the big vault as he spoke. He came upon a steel box, located near the

back. Stepping out to cover Jennery and Creeve, he motioned his pals toward the box. The armed pair lugged

it from the vault; dropped it upon the tiled floor. The box bore a label, marked: "Reserve."

"This is what we came for," sneered the masked leader. "Don't worry about that lock, you guys. We'll crack it

later. I know what's in it. Just to check it, though" he pulled a group of thin record books from a

pigeonhole, threw them aside until he found the one he wanted "I'm taking this. Yeah. Here's The dope.

Shoving the record under his arm, the man thrust his chin forward, glared through the slits of his mask toward

"Speak up, you lugs," he grated. "If there's a duplicate to this book, who's got it?"

The limpy crook chuckled his interruption. He started his men out to the banking floor, the two henchmen

carrying the steel box holding the million dollars between them. Backing away, threatening with his gun, the

"Stay where you are, saps! Any funny business, I'll be back to clamp you in the vault. I'm picking up that

duplicate record book on my way out. There goes your million bucks. Better blow kisses to it."

Turning, the leader took long, limping strides to overtake the men with the box. Creeve gritted his teeth; he

Creeve halted; he saw that the cause was useless. Nevertheless, he snapped to Jennery:

"You're yellow! You let them start this. You topped it by spilling the information about that duplicate record

"I had to," gasped Jennery. "It wasn't any threat against me alone, like being locked in the vault. They've got

this place wired, Creeve. Ready to blast it if they want to, after they leave. They'd do it, too, if we tried to

Creeve's glare was one of doubt. Jennery added the details that the bluntfaced man had told him regarding

the chandelier. Creeve stared out into the banking room. He could see the chandelier; beneath it, the masked

leader of the bandit band, coming from Jennery's desk with the duplicate record book. The men with the box

"There goes a million dollars," groaned Creeve. "Taken from our very hands! No one outside has guessed

Creeve's glum statement seemed true. Crooks had rendered all persons helpless within the bank; they were

operating so smoothly that even police outside the bank would suspect nothing. Nevertheless, Creeve's

Crooks were to meet stern opposition, before they made their getaway with the million dollars from the

OUTSIDE the Northwark National, all seemed serene. Men of crime were depending upon that fact to make

their getaway with ease. To produce absolute security, they had taken special measures in connection with

Two unmasked men were engaged in conversation near the main door of the bank. They were lookouts,

posted to watch for any chance persons who might enter the bank and urge such arrivals into the trap. They

Parked squarely in front of the avenue entrance to the bank was an armored car. It looked like a vehicle on

hand to transfer funds from the Northwark National to another bank. Actually, that truck belonged to the bank

On the side street above the bank were two men who appeared to be repairing an electric drill. There had

been paving construction on that street; the pair looked like workmen. Actually, they were members of the

Not only were they watching the side entrance of the bank; their electric drill was wired to an obscure plug at

the base of the bank wall. The wire told that the flatfaced man's threat to Jennery had not been a fake one.

Crooks actually had an electrical connection to a bombladen chandelier inside the bank.

Near the pretended drillrepair men was a touring car, parked with its nose toward the avenue. A driver,

behind the wheel of the darkened car, was ready to take aboard the watchful thugs and their equipment.

Half a block up the avenue was a parked coupe. It was unoccupied, but a driver was just about to step into the

car. He was the flatfaced man who had intimidated Jennery. His job was done: he intended to clear the

As the man stepped into his coupe, he was recognized. Eyes spied him from the interior of a limousine that

Those eyes belonged to a personage cloaked in black. The Shadow, superfighter who battled men of crime,

had spotted a crook whose trail he had been seeking. The Shadow recognized the flatfaced man as "Skibo"

Tonight, agents of The Shadow had observed Skibo near Times Square and had trailed him to this particular

avenue. There they had lost him; but the word had gone to The Shadow. On the chance that Skibo might

reappear, The Shadow was cruising along the avenue, watching from the back seat of his big limousine.

THE SHADOW spoke through the speaking tube to the chauffeur. The big car wheeled toward the curb on

the right, paused until traffic lessened, then made a Uturn to come around in back of Skibo's coupe.

The swing of the limousine gave The Shadow an excellent view of the front entrance to the Northwark

Though the police might think that steelclad vehicle belonged there, The Shadow did not share that opinion.

He knew that comparatively few large banks stayed open during evening hours. Therefore, there was no good

Sight of the two lookouts gave The Shadow added suspicions. His thoughts jumping ahead, he sped a glance

toward the side street. There, he saw the two men faking the repair job on the electric drill; he spotted the

Another command to the chauffeur. The limousine halted just above the corner of the side street. The rear

door opened, The Shadow stepped forth. In crouched position, he covered the space between the curb and the

He paused at his new vantage point; he saw Skibo's coupe speed away. The limousine also rolled northward;

but it was merely leaving this area, in accordance with The Shadow's final instruction.

Lonehanded, The Shadow was faring forth to counter crime. With darkness as his shrouding cover, he took

the most advantageous route. He went directly toward the spot where the outside crooks were stationed with

The huddled pair were listening to the man in the touring car. The thuggish driver was looking through the

"There's Turk Dorth," he informed, in an undertone. He was referring to the masked leader of the

bankrobbing crew. "Turk's pointing two of the outfit through the front. They're lugging a steel box. Turk's

A pause, as the crook craned his neck to get another view of the squatty, limping leader.

"Ready with the switch!" The watcher gave the order eagerly. "Turk's flashed the word. He's going to blow

THERE was a thud from the paving beside the electric drill. The thug in the car heard it. He peered out, to see

one of his pals sprawled senseless. Above the disabled rowdy was a figure of blackness: a gloved hand held

The crook in the car gave a warning yell. The other rowdy heard it too late. The Shadow was upon him,

dragging him from his place beside the drill. Again, a long arm stroked downward.

The second man was lucky enough to ward off the blow. He was husky; he grappled to restrain The Shadow's

gun arm. The fellow in the car came out with a revolver, tried to get an aim toward The Shadow. It was

impossible to pick out the blackclad fighter during that struggle on the paving. While the crook in the car

Tongues spat from the automatic, as The Shadow propped it on the swaying shoulder of the crook who

grappled him. Though aim was difficult, The Shadow managed to fire toward the front seat of the touring car.

His bullets whistled past the ear of the frenzied driver. The fellow did a dive out the other side. He came up

He saw his pal flatten, dropping from The Shadow's clutch. Wheeling, The Shadow stabbed shots along the

The Shadow let him go. There was bigger game for the blackgarbed figure to tackle.

Springing across the street, The Shadow whipped the end of the drill wire from its socket in the bank wall. He

gripped the muzzle of his automatic and swung the handle like a mallet, to ruin the plug at the wire's end.

That finished all chances of an explosion inside the bank. With the electrical connection ended, the switch on

THE SHADOW whipped out a fresh weapon. Whirling toward the street, he stabbed two shots from

darkness, to stop a pair of masked marauders who were coming out by the side door.

One crook staggered. The other dragged him back into the bank, to haul him toward the front door, through

Rounding the corner of the bank building, The Shadow opened fire toward the front door. Crooks had arrived

there; they were piling the steel box aboard the armored car. Sounds of gunfire had hurried their getaway.

"Turk," the masked leader, was looking toward the corner, expecting trouble from that direction.

Turk saw The Shadow. He whipped off his mask to take better aim. His right forefinger jerked his revolver

Turk's aim was hasty. His nervous bullet ricocheted from the granite corner above The Shadow's head. That

pot shot, however, was not a useless one. It accomplished the exact result that Turk wanted. It made his

Five men sprang to the attack, aiming as they came. Some were still masked; others, like Turk, had ripped off

their handkerchiefs. With that surge came the two lookouts who had been stationed near the armored truck.

The Shadow did a quick dive back behind the corner. He hooked the stone building edge with the side of his

gun. Simultaneously, he began his fire, wavering the gun back and forth as he loosed the steady volley.

Crooks returned a useless barrage. Their only target was a flamespouting gun muzzle that projected from

The thugs, themselves, were clustered in the open. They tasted the bullets that came in their direction.

Though The Shadow's fire was blind, his shots were calculated. Sizzling slugs clipped the foremost attackers

and sent them sprawling. The others scattered; dashed pellmell for the armored truck.

Its safety was denied them. Turk Dorth had jumped aboard. The door clanged shut as the leader gave the

order for the getaway. The truck's motor roared; the heavy vehicle started up the avenue.

Turk had betrayed those members of his squad; but most of them forgot the fact when they saw a

machinegun's muzzle poke from a loophole in the truck's armored side. The big truck was rolling for the

corner. The machine gun began its withering clatter. Deserted crooks thought that Turk's measure was

The truck slowed as it reached the side street. The machine gun swung back and forth, ripping its hail of

bullets on a low, wide line from one side of the street to the other. The Shadow had heard the truck's

The spread of the machinegun fire was sufficient, though, to reach any spot where he might be. Confident

that The Shadow had fallen, Turk gave the order for the truck to speed away. It rumbled northward on the

SILENCE lay complete in the side street, as soon as the machinegun's echoes faded. The bulletriddled

bodies lay beside the demolished electric drill. They were the corpses of the men whom The Shadow had met

The Shadow had left those thugs alive but helpless. What had killed them was the hail of the machine gun.

Turk Dorth, shooting from the confines of the armored truck, had not guessed that two of his men were lying

Turk had spied the touring car, twenty feet beyond the crippled pair. He had supposed that the two men were

in it, with the driver, ready to take flight when the armored truck had passed. On that account, Turk had kept

Through that policy, Turk had served The Shadow. The cloaked fighter had foreseen the bank robber's action.

The Shadow had chosen the one place that he knew would remain secure. He was in the touring car. He had

Unscathed, The Shadow was ready for pursuit behind the wheel of a captured automobile. Crooks were to

have farther opposition, before they entered the clear with their illgotten million.

WHEN The Shadow nosed the touring car from the side street, commotion had begun along the avenue.

Two cars sped in from a street below. Both were sedans; they looked like policemanned chasers. But when

they halted, the remaining crooks leaped aboard. The sedans started up the avenue, carrying away the

remnants of Turk's band. It was then that the chase began in earnest. Police cars picked up speed to race

beside the sedans. Shots were exchanged between the rapidmoving cars. Far ahead, the armored truck was

clearing traffic. Automobiles and pedestrians had time to seek shelter before the pursuing avalanche arrived.

Midway between the armored truck and the pursuing cars was The Shadow. He had swung in ahead of the

police cars; he was pacing them as they kept up their running fight. He found the borrowed touring car to be a

The police chase ended after a dozen blocks. One police car went to the curb, disabled. Another cut in front

of a crookmanned sedan, which promptly took to a side street, leaving the patrol car stranded. As the police

wheeled about to take after the escaping thugs, the other sedan took a side street in the opposite direction.

The armored car was forgotten. It had outdistanced all pursuers except The Shadow. Soon, the truck swung

eastward along a crosstown street. When the truck reached an East Side avenue and started north beneath the

Previously, Turk and the crooks in the armored car had supposed that the touring car contained their own

men. They still thought so, for The Shadow had not opened fire during the chase.

As he came alongside the truck, The Shadow saw an idle machine gun looming from a loophole on the left.

Holding even with the truck, he raised an automatic and stabbed shots straight for the loophole. The machine

The driver of the steelclad wagon swung obliquely to the left, hoping to crowd the touring car against the

The touring car literally launched itself forward, as The Shadow pressed the accelerator to the floorboards.

Whisperlike, the light car forged ahead before the truck could pinch it against the pillar.

Seeing a side street, the driver took the left turn, trying to give The Shadow the slip before he could turn the

touring car around. The truck tilted badly as it made the swing, then came level as all four wheels hit the

The Shadow completed a U turn and came back to the corner, ready to renew the chase. Before he could take

Police radio cars whined up to the corner. The call had gone out over the air. One cut in to block The

Shadow's path; another cut across the avenue to make a broadside barrier if he headed south. Submachine

guns clattered like riveters. Instead of training in the direction of the armored car, they were swinging for The

The patrol cars had received the order to follow an armored truck. Witnessing the battle between the steel

wagon and the rakish touring car, they had supposed that The Shadow's vehicle was the one the law wanted.

THERE was no time for explanations nor was there any chance for The Shadow to speed after Turk Dorth.

His only course was to speed away in the few seconds that would elapse before the drilling police fire

Midway in the crossing, The Shadow wheeled his car in a bewildering circle that took him past the elevated

pillars. He was in and out, round and about, heading up the avenue again, before the path of gunfire reached

A new chase began. The police cars were hot on The Shadow's trail. They saw the touring car weave in and

out among the elevated pillars. Streams of bullets were always belated, clanging posts just after the touring

Four blocks up, The Shadow saw a blockade of stalled traffic, He performed a bold left turn and cut squarely

across the path of the police cars, at the moment when the officers were forced to suspend their fire for fear of

Speeding westward, outdistancing the patrol cars, The Shadow hoped to pick up again the trail of the armored

truck. He swung south on Lexington Avenue, somewhere in the Sixties; but saw no sign of the truck as he

cruised along. There were police cars, though, and they gave sudden challenge. The touring car was marked.

Again, The Shadow sped away as cars pursued. It took him twenty blocks to zigzag out of difficulty. At last,

he doubled on his course, turned up a quiet avenue and swung right into a side street. He turned off the

When he appeared in the light of the avenue, The Shadow was carrying his cloak and hat, bundled with his

He stopped by a parked limousine, silently opened the door and tossed the bundle into the rear seat. Without

disturbing the chauffeur, The Shadow closed the door and strolled across the avenue. He came beneath the

lighted area of a marquee, where a doorman was showing a taxicab to a parking space.

The Shadow was at the entrance to the Cobalt Club. Posing as Lamont Cranston, globetrotting millionaire,

he passed as a member of that club. His black garb discarded, The Shadow was in the guise of Cranston. He

was attired in evening clothes; his face was calm and impassive, hawkish in appearance and masklike in

STOPPING at the doorway of the club, The Shadow paused to light a cigarette. He looked up as a flurry of

police cars wailed past. He watched them turn into the side street, to discover the abandoned touring car.

One officer questioned the chauffeur of the big limousine; another came over and talked to the Cobalt Club

doorman, who shook his head. He had not seen fugitives who looked like thugs, racing away on foot.

All the while, The Shadow idled at the doorway, puffing his cigarette in the leisurely fashion of Cranston. He

had almost completed his smoke when the doorman happened to look in his direction. Thinking that The

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Cranston," he said. "The police were questioning me about some bandits

who abandoned a car near here. I shall summon your limousine immediately, Mr. Cranston."

The doorman blew his whistle and waved. The chauffeur brought the big limousine from across the street. It

was the same car that The Shadow had deserted near the Northwark National Bank. He had ordered the

Flicking away the remainder of the cigarette, The Shadow stepped into the limousine. He spoke through the

The limousine went southward. It took the avenue that it had used before. Soon, it rolled past the front of the

Northwark National Bank, where a whole squad of bluecoats and plainclothes men were in evidence.

Among the throng, The Shadow recognized a swarthy, stockily built man from headquarters. He was

Inspector Joe Cardona, ace of the Manhattan force. Cardona had taken charge of the robbery investigation.

A lowtoned laugh throbbed through the interior of the limousine, as the smoothriding car neared the

Holland Tunnel. Solemn in tone, that laugh carried prophecy more than mirth. It was The Shadow's summary

Like Skibo Hadlen, Turk Dorth had made a getaway, despite The Shadow. The blame was not The

Shadow's. He had let Skibo go; and the law's mistaken action had permitted Turk's escape. Nevertheless,

Turk Dorth was at large, with a million dollars as his trophy of a hard night's work.

A new game confronted The Shadow. It would be his job to reclaim the vanished million, looted from the

vault of the Northwark National. Though he regretted the loss of the funds, he looked forward to the task that

Crooks would find it difficult to cash that million dollars. There might be clues by which The Shadow could

find their trail before they completed a division of the spoils. The Shadow was ready to undertake the trail of

Yet even The Shadow, as he visioned the future, did not foresee the strange angles that would develop before

he could locate the million dollars that was the rightful property of the Northwark National Bank.

THE next day's newspapers carried screaming accounts of the robbery at the Northwark National. The crime

had far eclipsed all previous operations in Manhattan. Not only had crooks bagged a million dollars in one

quick swoop; the completeness of their method exceeded those of any other robbery.

Daniel Jennery had given the law a verbatim account of his conversation with Skibo Hadlen. With tender

care, the police had removed the huge chandelier from the center of the big banking room. They had found

that it contained a bomb big enough to blast the whole banking floor and shake the skyscraper on its

moorings. They had discovered a special wiring, capable of setting off the charge.

The wires led through to the outer wall of the bank to the socket from which The Shadow had wrenched the

plug. The electric drill, fitted with a switch to shoot electricity through to the chandelier, was proof that

Ralph Creeve corroborated all of Jennery's statements that pertained to the trip to the vault. Both told the

story of Turk Dorth's search for the milliondollar reserve fund; and added how the masked leader had made

Neither Jennery nor Creeve was able to name Skibo Hadlen or Turk Dorth. Jennery gave a good description

of Skibo's appearance and manner. Creeve added a fair description, from what little he had seen of the man.

The watchman had seen Skibo approach Jennery; hence he chipped in a few details of the threatcarrier's

Joe Cardona had been looking for Skibo Hadlen, and knew that the fellow was the sort that crooks would use

to do their preliminary work. Cardona produced photographs. Jennery, Creeve and the watchman recognized

the rogue's gallery portraits. Thus the law learned that the "front" man was Skibo Hadlen.

Jennery and Creeve remembered Turk Dorth's limp. That was about all they could supply regarding the

masked leader. The watchman and several depositors also recalled the limp. Again, it offered the law a direct

trail. Joe Cardona picked Turk Dorth as the mainspring of the bankrobbing crew. Turk had done jobs like

That settled the question of the masked leader's identity. Turk Dorth was the wanted man.

The law had gained important leads already known to The Shadow. Because of the magnitude of the bank

robbery, extensive measures had been taken. Police were stationed at every outlet from Manhattan, on the

If the bigshot and the front man had not managed to leave New York, they would find it difficult to do so.

These facts were public. Like others, The Shadow read them in the newspapers. To them, he added opinions

THE SHADOW believed that Turk and Skibo were still in New York. The armored car had been abandoned

near a Hudson River ferry; but there was little chance that Turk had risked a river voyage to New Jersey, at a

The Shadow pictured Turk in some hideout, away from the doubtful districts of the underworld. Turk was

the sort who would choose a firstclass apartment as a hiding place for himself and the million dollars; unless

The same applied to Skibo Hadlen, except for the fact that Skibo had no money to handle. Therefore, it

seemed a certainty that Skibo would be in an apartment, living there unrecognized. Like Turk, Skibo would

All in all, Skibo would have less reason than Turk to be on the move. That was one reason why The Shadow

preferred to hunt for Skibo, instead of Turk. There was another reason: For several days, The Shadow had

been seeking traces of Skibo and had gotten well along the trail, before the flatfaced rogue made his

In checking on Skibo's moves, The Shadow had centered on an apartment area on the West Side, near

Twentythird Street. It was simply a case of whittling down that area until he located Skibo's exact lodging.

During the afternoon, The Shadow, in disguise, investigated the district on his own. He talked about the

robbery at the Northwark National with many persons, and heard varying opinions. No one remembered

seeing anyone who resembled the description of Turk Dorth; but some recalled a face that resembled the

By dusk, The Shadow had discarded the chaff, to gain a few kernels of information. Discarding his disguise,

he appeared at the Cobalt Club as Lamont Cranston. He made a telephone call to his contact Burbank, telling

him to put agents on the job for the next few hours. The agents were to check the places that The Shadow had

AT the Cobalt Club, the air teemed with talk of the bank robbery. The club members were mostly men of

wealth. The milliondollar raid was something that hit home. It made these chaps upbraid the law.

Soon after The Shadow had dined at the club, he saw several members scurrying toward the lounge. The

Shadow followed them and located the cause of the excitement. Alexander Leddison, president of the

Northwark National, had just arrived at the club. Naturally, the club members believed that they would hear

Joining the group in the lounge, The Shadow saw Leddison in the center of the throng. The bank president

was a pompous man, despite his rather puny build. Though short and light of weight, he stood erect, carrying

Cleareyed, smoothshaven and with a firm, choppy profile, Leddison looked young despite the whiteness of

his thin hair. His forceful booming baritone voice belied his small size. Everything that Leddison said was

"The sum is correctly stated," declared Leddison, to the listening throng. "One million dollars. A special

reserve fund that the directors set aside, some months ago. The criminals took it all."

"How did they learn about the money?" queried a stoopshouldered club member. "Have the police learned

"The directors issued a printed statement at the time the reserve fund was established," explained the

financier. "Through some error, an oversupply was printed. The excess copies were placed with other

literature, where the depositors, or anyone else, could find them. A copy must have reached the criminals."

"What about the bomb in the chandelier?" asked the questioner. "Have the police learned how it was placed

"The chandelier was returned earlier than expected," returned Leddison. "Apparently some criminals posed as

workmen. When the proper workmen arrived, a few days later, they found the chandelier in place. At the

time, it was regarded as a matter of confused orders. The police have traced nothing from the episode."

New questions came from different speakers. Leddison curbed his annoyance. He raised his hand and smiled.

"One at a time, gentlemen," he insisted. "For your information the numbers of the stolen bills were

recorded in duplicate. The leader of the robbers the man identified as Turk Dorth took the records from

the vault and the duplicates from the cashier's desk. We know only that most of the currency was of large

The group began to spread. Leddison stepped aside to light a cigar. When he turned about, the bank president

found only one person near him. That was The Shadow. Leddison looked up toward the tall club member and

"YOUR statements interested me, Mr. Leddison," remarked The Shadow, in the quiet tone of Cranston.

"Particularly, since I have heard that Inspector Cardona was handling the investigation."

"You should come to the bank then. He will be there tomorrow afternoon, to conduct another quiz."

"Yes." Leddison paused as he and The Shadow strolled toward the door. Looking about to make sure that no

other listeners were close, the bank resident added: "Cardona thinks that there may be an inside angle to the

The Shadow's expression showed a mild flicker of interest. Leddison was pleased at the opportunity to relate

"The robbery was letterperfect," declared the pompous bank president, his voice lowered to an undertone.

"The criminals knew of the reserve fund. They chose the right place in which to find it. They also knew that

all the protective measures depended upon one man. They saw to it that he was drawn from his post.

"Neither Jennery nor Creeve can be blamed for what happened. They were outwitted by two men who knew

too much: first by Hadlen; then by Dorth. However, that very fact like the installation of the special

"That is what Cardona hopes to learn. However, the task appears difficult. None of the directors could be

involved. Not only are they men of high standing; I can vouch for the fact that they knew nothing of our

"Jennery knew all the detais; but he is positive that he gave no information to any of his assistants. Similarly,

Creeve assures us that he never spoke a word to any of the tellers. That brings us back to the starting point. I

still hold to the theory that the criminals gained their own information, and relied upon smart judgment for

Leddison was strolling to the lobby as he talked. There were other members outside; they became interested

when they saw the bank president talking to another member. Observing it, Leddison promptly shook hands

with The Shadow. "Good night, Mr. Cranston," said the bank president. "I shall expect you tomorrow

IT did not surprise The Shadow to learn that Cardona saw an inside angle. That was the logical supposition

that the police would take, considering the smoothness of the robbery. How far Cardona would get along such

a line would be something that The Shadow could witness, thanks to Leddison's invitation to visit the bank

tomorrow. The Shadow intended to be there at the time the bank president had suggested.

Strolling back through the lobby, The Shadow halted as an attendant paged him. There was a telephone call

for Mr. Cranston. The Shadow answered it. He heard an even tone across the wire. It was Burbank's voice.

Burbank had the very news that The Shadow awaited. Agents had visited various apartment buildings; they

had found no sign of Skibo Hadlen. Only three possible apartments remained; all located on the same floor of

Agents were awaiting instructions. The Shadow ordered Burbank to send them off duty. The final search

THE SHADOW had sought Skibo Hadlen through a process of elimination. Word from the agents was not

proof that Skibo could be found. It simply meant that if the crook still happened to be in New York, the odds

Skibo was actually in one of the apartments that the agents had located. More than that, the crook was on the

The crook's apartment was located on the third floor of a widebuilt apartment house. The front windows

afforded view of a narrow, crosstown street. There were no side windows in the living room; but those in

Skibo was avoiding the bedroom. He did not care to risk the chance of being seen from across the court. The

living room was large enough to permit a single corner light, so long as Skibo kept away from the glow and

Newspapers, stacked on a table, told that Skibo had risked a trip to the street. He had read the accounts of

crime; he knew that he was wanted. Such reports kept Skibo indoors; but they did not produce signs of worry

A snort was Skibo's opinion of the law's efforts to block all egress from Manhattan. Skibo had no reason to

leave New York. He was satisfied to remain here. There was something, though, that did trouble him. Skibo

It was plain that Skibo was expecting a call that, as yet, had not come through. Reading how certain thugs had

been left behind on the scene of crime, Skibo did not feel reassured in regard to Turk Dorth. He was

A while later, Skibo glanced at his watch, noted that the time was eleven o'clock. His projecting lip tightened

angrily; his fists clenched, as though seeking combat. Skibo approached the outer door; acted as if he

intended to leave the apartment. Then came the timely ring of the telephone bell.

Skibo reached the telephone with a bound. He whipped the receiver to his ear, paused a moment, then gruffed

"This is Slink." The words were cautious. "Slink Ratzler. All right if I stop around to pick you up?"

"Sure thing, Slink... Yeah, I'm all ready. Yeah, I'll have the lights out. All right. Blink the glims twice..."

HANGING up, Skibo rubbed his chin with the tips of his forefingers. He had expected to hear from Turk

Dorth: not from "Slink" Ratzler. It was all right, though; probably better that Slink should be on the job.

Until tonight, Slink had not been connected with the bank job. Slink was simply a sneaky gobetween, who

had served numerous racketeers and bigshots. One of his smartest stunts was that of picking hideouts.

Crooks could seldom be located when they buried themselves in spots chosen by Slink Ratzler.

Another of Slink's assets was his ability at disguise. Skibo knew Slink as a scrawny, peakfaced sneak. He

had heard it said that Slink was a wonder, when it came to changing his appearance.

As Skibo doped it, Turk Dorth must have read the newspapers, too. Rather than risk a direct contact with

Skibo, Turk was sending Slink. Skibo liked the idea. He would be glad to go along with Slink to meet Turk.

Anticipating Slink's arrival Skibo went to the wall switch. Holding his hand ready, he looked about the living

room. Everything looked serene, including the door into the bedroom. It was slightly ajar; but Skibo had

purposely left it that way. Skibo shifted his gaze; then snapped off the lights.

The darkness that filled the room was almost complete. Only a slight filter of light came from the front

windows. Skibo moved in that direction. He raised a lower sash to peer down toward the street.

Despite his caution, Skibo had made two mistakes. The first was just before he pressed the light switch. At

that time, he gazed away from the bedroom door just too soon to detect a gliding streak of blackness that had

Skibo's second error came when he raised the window. The noise that he made was sufficient to drown a

Before Skibo could peer downward, gloved hands clamped his neck. A knee drove hard into the center of his

back. Skibo did a back bend that a contortionist would have envied. His move was not voluntary. It was

Skibo managed to claw the air with his hands, as he was swept inward from the window. As he clutched

vainly, his legs were hoisted from the floor. Hands propelled downward. Skibo hit the floor flat on his back.

The crook was out before he struck. The jolt simply insured the knockout. A flashlight glimmered above

Skibo's face. The tiny beam showed the crook's eyelids closed; his lips loosened from their ugly leer. A

whispered laugh betokened the identity of the fighter who had so silently overpowered Skibo!

THE SHADOW had picked the right apartment. He had entered it from the courtyard outside the bedroom

window. Listening in on Skibo's telephone call, he had picked the most opportune moment to end Skibo's

The Shadow had heard of Slink. He knew the gobetween's reputation as a quickchange artist. In the

minutes that remained, The Shadow performed a task of disguise that would serve Slink as an example of real

Using a flat makeup kit, The Shadow raised a mirror and produced a special light. Close to the floor, so that

the light showed Skibo's face beside his own, The Shadow began to copy the senseless crook's features.

When the work was complete, Skibo's visage was matched. The Shadow's countenance had become its twin,

except for the odd hue of Skibo's eyes. They would not matter, so long as The Shadow kept his gaze away

Closing the makeup kit, The Shadow bound and gagged his prisoner in swift fashion. Waiting by the opened

window, The Shadow kept steady watch downward. His vigil ended when a coupe rolled to a stop just past

the darkened front of the apartment house. The driver turned out the lights; apparently changed his mind

There was a suitcase in the corner near the bedroom door. The Shadow opened it, clumped the contents and

stowed his cloak and hat along with the makeup kit and other items. He shuffled from the apartment and

went to the automatic elevator. The hallway light showed him as Skibo Hadlen. The disguise was complete,

Reaching the street, The Shadow made quick steps to the coupe, avoiding the street lamps as he came. The

car was conveniently parked; The Shadow kept his head huddled, as he entered it and closed the door

Easing the suitcase to the floor, The Shadow glanced sidelong at the driver as the car started. The hunched

"Guess you're wonderin' what's up," came Slink's hoarse whisper. "There ain't much to tell you, though,

"Glad to hear that," returned The Shadow, in a tone that copied Skibo's growl. "I thought maybe the bulls had

"Not where he is," chuckled Slink. "Wait till you see the joint, Skibo. And they won't spot him after he leaves

The Shadow put no further questions. Slink, in his turn, made no further efforts at conversation. He drove

northward along an avenue; motioned for his companion to keep deep in the car whenever they passed lighted

districts. Plenty of police were about tonight. Slink did not want them to spot the face of Skibo Hadlen. Nor

did The Shadow desire it. That face was the passport which was carrying him straight to a lair of crime.

WELL north of Fortysecond Street, the car rolled along a block of brownstone houses. Most of them were

dark and untenanted, despite their excellent condition. They were antiquated residences, of a type no longer

Swinging around the block, Slink came to a shabbier street in back of the brownstone houses. Garages and

warehouses showed among clusters of old brick houses. This street told one reason why the brownstone

houses were no longer popular. Their back yards opened into a muchlesspleasant neighborhood.

Past the warehouse, Slink gave a final look. Satisfied, he jerked the wheel and shot the coupe into a narrow,

blind alley that ended where a brick wall ran from the warehouse to the back yard of a dilapidated brick

Slink crept along the brick wall; felt for a wooden gate and opened it. The Shadow was right behind him.

They crossed a yard behind a brownstone house and entered a wide passage between two of the bulky brown

buildings. The fronts of the brownstones were joined, to block farther progress.

Slink chose the side door of the house on the left. He unlocked it with a skeleton key. The Shadow joined him

Once the door was closed, Slink risked a flashlight. They went up a flight of creaky stairs; at the top, Slink

He doused the flashlight and opened the door. The glow of a shaded electric lantern revealed a large,

Windows were tightly shaded on the inside, so that not a flicker of light could penetrate to the outside night.

At the far end of the room was the only sign that told of former occupancy: a fireplace with paper and a

bundle of brushwood stuffed within it, to offset snow and rain from the chimney.

The electric lantern was resting on a soap box. Beside it, on the floor, was a steel box; closed, but with broken

lock. It was the container that crooks had carried from the Northwark National Bank, the night before: the

From beyond the lantern stepped a squatty figure. A yellowed face grinned in the glow to show a set of

grimy, fangish teeth. That leer was Turk Dorth's notion of a welcome to Skibo Hadlen and Slink Ratzler.

The Shadow had reached his goal. He had found Turk Dorth, along with the vanished swag.

TURK DORTH shouldered forward as if he meant to shake hands. The Shadow stepped back from the fringe

of the lantern's glow, to decline the greeting. His desire to avoid the handclasp served a double purpose.

By shifting, The Shadow moved far enough away to prevent Turk from discovering that he was not the real

Skibo Hadlen. In addition, he gave Turk the impression that he was here for a showdown.

Turk's ugly lips gave a wince. He knew that he had been accused of deserting his followers the day before.

He could see good reason why Skibo would be sore. Turk wanted to square himself. Therefore, he talked;

"It was a tight squeeze, last night, Skibo," insisted Turk. "You was on the lam; you wasn't there to see it.

The Shadow growled something about Turk hopping off in the armored car. It sounded like a question. Turk

"Sure, I took to the wagon, Skibo! It was the only way to take The Shadow off the other boys. I rattled the

Tommy gun down the street when I went past. He was lucky to get away. It gave the rest of the guys a break

the ones that was still outside the bank. There was cars there to pick 'em up. I saw to that, Skibo."

The Shadow's mutter was less harsh. Turk looked pleased. He stooped beside the steel box, opened it and

displayed packages of crisp green currency. The money was the sort that Leddison had described; all bills of

high denomination. The contents, however, were far short of the stolen million. The box was nearly half

"That shows you how I squared the boys," asserted Turk. "They was to get ten grand apiece; but I made it

twenty, on account of some being croaked, which made less for the divvy. There was some of 'em got double,

"With you an' me, it's different, Skibo. Our best bet is to lay low, until the bulls are through looking for us.

You know the deal we made. Two hundred and fifty grand for me; a hundred to you, for being the front.

TURK parceled out thick bundles of currency. The Shadow received them; he thumbed bills of big

denominations: five hundreds and thousands. He stuffed them in his inside pocket, where they formed a thick,

Buttoning his coat, The Shadow turned up the collar, as if to give it better shape. The raised collar covered

"I cut Slink here in on the deal," explained Turk. "Gave him an old thirty grand that was left over. I'll tell you

why, Skibo. You an' me has got to lay low an' keep our eyes open. The only eyes we've got is Slink. He's

picked a hideout for us; we'll stay there together, while Slink slides out an' keeps us posted. How's that

The Shadow grunted his approval. Turk suggested an immediate departure for the hideout. The Shadow

"I've got my own place for keeping hot money," he told Turk. "I'll go back to the apartment and pack up. I'll

stow this dough where I figured on putting it. You can send Slink around to pick me up, a couple of hours

The suggestion was fair enough. Turk did not grasp its real significance. The Shadow intended to go back to

Skibo's apartment; to plant the hundred thousand dollars on the captive crook. After that, he would ride with

Meanwhile, the law would receive some mysterious tipoffs. The police would go to Skibo's apartment and

Turk's hideout, to capture both crooks and their intermediary, Slink. The Shadow would have no trouble

Turk missed all this. He was concerned only with The Shadow's statement about "hot" money. Turk objected

"This dough ain't hot, Skibo," he declared. "I burned the books that came out of the bank. Shoved them in the

furnace at the old hideout. We can pass this mazuma anywhere. There's one thing, though, that I want you to

Turk counted out the final bundles from the steel box; he separated them into two groups.

"Two hundred and fifty grand for me," announced Turk. "An' the same for the guy that was back of this

whole deal. That's what he asked for a quarter of the dough; an' he's getting it."

The game was out. Turk's statement was proof that the entire bank robbery had been inspired by an inside tip.

From the way Turk spoke, it was plain that Skibo knew the fact. Convinced The Shadow was Skibo, Turk

"Don't ask me who fixed it," continued Turk, his ugly tone as frank as he could make it, "because I don't

know. Whoever it was, knew the whole lay in the Northwark National. He slipped me the word when the

crew was to shove in that chandelier. He told me the way you was to start it, Skibo; and it went through like

"I knowed where the swag was. I could have picked up that duplicate record book without asking Jennery

where it was; but I was supposed to ask him. It was a clockwork job, even though The Shadow busted in on

it. I'd like to have blasted that bank, though. That part of it was sort of left up to me."

Turk shook his head regretfully. The Shadow said nothing. Silence on the part of the supposed Skibo made

Turk wonder if his story had been accepted. "I've handed you the lowdown, Skibo," Turk raised his tone,

angrily. "Maybe you think I'm handing out baloney, huh? You're wondering how I got all this dope without

ever knowing who slipped it to me. Well, that's an easy one to answer. There was a guy who brought me all

"The fellow that piped through the orders is a cab driver named Mophrey. A guy that used to run booze in the

old days. The bigshot must have knowed it, for he gets hold of Mophrey an' tells him to look me up.

Mophrey comes to me with the news that an inside guy at the bank wants me to lift a million bucks. It

sounded screwy; but when Mophrey gives me the details, it listened good. All the word that came to me was

Turk bundled his own quarter million into the steel box. He took the remaining bundles another quarter

million and carried them to the fireplace. There, he pulled out crumpled newspapers; wrapped the bills

"There's the bigshot's dough," he declared. "Two hundred and fifty grand. Stowed where nobody would ever

Coming back from the fireplace, Turk produced a watch and held the dial toward the electric lantern.

"This turnip's running fast," he growled. "It says twelve o'clock; but it ain't quite midnight yet. It's time we

was out of here according to what Mophrey told me. From the way he talked, I figured Mophrey's supposed

Hoisting one end of the steel box, Turk told Slink to take the other. The two started from the room; The

Shadow followed, carrying the electric lantern. He extinguished it when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

The pair put the box in the luggage container at the back. They entered the car; Turk stumbled against the

"We can take this bag along, Skibo," whispered Turk, through the opened window. "You'd be bringing it over

"Better let me have it," returned The Shadow. "I got to do some packing, Turk. I'll hop a cab back to my

THE SHADOW started out from the alleyway; paused to motion that the way was clear. He was walking

toward the corner when Slink's car passed him. As soon as the coupe was out of sight, The Shadow retraced

his steps to the alleyway and continued through to the passage between the brownstone houses.

It would be a few hours before Slink would show up again at Skibo's. In the meantime, there was every

likelihood that Mophrey would arrive to carry away the share of swag that Turk had left for the bigshot.

Instructions to be out by midnight indicated that Mophrey would arrive soon after that hour.

A distant clock was chiming twelve. It was The Shadow's hour of opportunity. If Mophrey arrived soon, The

Shadow could trail the fellow when he carried away the quarter million. At the end of the trail, The Shadow

would find the traitor who had plotted crime within the walls of the Northwark National Bank.

He had covered his trail so completely that the law would never find it through investigation at the bank. But

the trail of the quarter million dollars would be sufficient to end the plotter's career of hidden crime. In the

space between the brownstone houses. The Shadow opened his suitcase and removed his garb of black. He

discarded Skibo's hat and coat; donned the black garments that rendered him invisible against the night.

Looking for a place to stow the suitcase, The Shadow chose the brownstone house on his right.

He tried the low cellar windows; found one that was loose. He levered it upward and downward; placed the

The Shadow started for the doorway of the house on the left. He tried a thin skeleton key and opened the door

The Shadow paused to press a gloved hand against the inside pocket of the coat that he wore beneath his

cloak. The pocket was bulky, overweighted with the bundles of currency that The Shadow had shoved there

while posing as Skibo Hadlen. The best place for the money was in Skibo's suitcase. The Shadow turned

A sound made The Shadow pause. It was the muffled throb of a car motor, that idled into silence as someone

turned off the ignition switch. The fading thrum came from beyond the brick wall in back of the brownstone

row. It announced the arrival of Mophrey, the taxi driver who formed a vital link in The Shadow's intended

The Shadow gave up his plan of a quick trip to the cellar. He eased through the door of the empty house,

closed it and locked it behind him. Moving smoothly upward on the creaky stairs, The Shadow reached the

blackened secondstory hall. A few blinks of his flashlight showed him a convenient doorway opposite the

A hundred thousand dollars of swag tucked thick in his own inside pocket, The Shadow waited silently in a

deepset doorway, watching for the man who was coming to uncover the remaining quarter million.

A KEY clicked from the door on the ground floor. The sound was scarcely more than a scrape, but The

Shadow could hear it in the silence of the darkened house. There was the soft thud of a closing door; again

the key click, slightly louder. Then footsteps that brought creaks from the stairs.

The Shadow could hear the breathing of a man who passed him in the darkness. The fellow opened the door

across the hall; left it slightly ajar. The Shadow could see the glow of a flashlight. The beam told him that the

Gliding forward, The Shadow entered and closed the door so softly that the man at the fireplace could not

hear it. Turning, The Shadow studied the man's actions. It was a simple matter, for the fellow had set his

flashlight upright on the floor. The beam from the lens showed his face plainly.

The man was Mophrey, the taxi driver. Above a poorly shaven face, The Shadow saw the visor of a

chauffeur's cap the sort that taxi drivers frequently wear. It was Mophrey's only attempt at a uniform; for

Mophrey was crinkling the newspapers in the fireplace. The Shadow saw him open them and thumb the ends

of the bundled bills. Mophrey was simply assuring himself that the quarter million was there. He was not

The taxi driver's next action was to turn off his flashlight and pocket it in the darkness. He struck a match on

the brick front of the fireplace. The Shadow watched the tiny flame approach the crumpled newspapers. A

moment later, the paper was ablaze. Licking flames rose toward the dried brushwood. In the increased light,

The bundles of currency were still showing from the newspapers. Mophrey was burning up the swag that had

been left by Turk Dorth. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars were going to the flames!

SPONTANEOUSLY, The Shadow sprang forward. There was still time to prevent the destruction. Whatever

the reason for Mophrey's action, The Shadow did not intend to see the money burn. Quick work could stop it.

First, a rapid encounter with Mophrey; then swift grabs to pull the bundled bills from the rising fire.

Mophrey did not hear The Shadow coming. The crackle of the flames drowned the approach. By rights,

Mophrey should have shared the fate of Skibo Hadlen; but luck was with the crooked taxi driver. Just as The

Shadow sprang, Mophrey came up from the fireplace and swung toward the door, intending to make a hurried

Instantly, the taxi driver saw the lunging figure in black. The flames from the fire provided all the light he

needed. Mophrey showed himself a quick worker in a pinch. Shooting his arms ahead of him, he made a

To meet the attack, The Shadow sidestepped, and shot one arm downward. He hooked Mophrey's knee as he

went past. The grab changed The Shadow's move into a side roll. He landed face upward, carrying Mophrey

with him. Twisting to continue his roll, The Shadow hinged his free hand upward, found Mophrey's jaw and

Apart, both fighters rallied instantly. Morphrey gave a bellow, as he rammed toward The Shadow. Meeting

the drive, The Shadow encountered Mophrey with equal force. The two jolted straight upward; staggered

Across Mophrey's shoulder, The Shadow could see the fireplace. Flames had reached the brushwood; the fire

was roaring like a furnace. It was too late to rescue the money that Mophrey had consigned to destruction.

The Shadow had counted on that currency to serve two purposes. He wanted it as a trail to a supercrook; he

Both chances were lost; and with their passing, The Shadow recognized another fact.

Mophrey, sent here to burn the money, would have no reason to visit the master crook at all. The only way to

That was why The Shadow allowed the deadlock to continue. Near the wall, he had a chance to jolt

Mophrey's head backward and stun the fellow with a single blow. That would have left Mophrey in no

Keeping the grapple equal, he swayed back and forth with Mophrey while he worked his gloved fingers

MOPHREY knew what was coming, but he could not stop the approach of those fateful fingers. One slow

minute passed, while the flames continued their crackle and threw a grotesque glare upon the panting figures.

The Shadow's hands reached Mophrey's neck. Knuckles poked the thug's chin upward. Deliberately, The

Choking hands made Mophrey's eyes bulge. Sagging, the taxi driver stared upward toward The Shadow's

gaze. Mophrey could not see the faked face of Skibo Hadlen, for The Shadow's back was toward the fire and

his slouch hat hid his false features. All that Mophrey could view were eyes that burned like the firelight;

To Mophrey's distorted vision, those eyes were merciless. They commanded speech; but gave no promise of

reward. Mophrey writhed; twisted half toward the fireplace. His tongue thrust from his opened mouth, as he

Relentless fingers loosed their grip; tightened again as Mophrey managed to take air. Once more, they eased.

"I'll I'll squawk," he panted. "I'll tell who sent me here why he wanted me to burn the dough "

The taxi driver panted hard. Half dizzy, he swayed in The Shadow's clutch. Steadying, he licked his lips and

"The guy's with the Northwark National," spoke Mophrey. "He knows everything on the inside there. When

Mophrey halted. His head had tilted sidewise. His eyes were looking toward the door. But Mophrey, even

with that chance glance, learned nothing that The Shadow did not know. What Mophrey saw, The Shadow

The knob of the door was turning. Mophrey saw its twist; The Shadow heard its movement.

Instantly, The Shadow shifted. He wheeled Mophrey toward the door. Pressing the taxi driver's throat with

his left hand, The Shadow thrust his right beneath his coat, to gain the holstered automatic that hung above

Though The Shadow acted speedily, the shift delayed him. The door swung open before The Shadow could

bring his automatic to aim. A revolver muzzle shone beyond the doorway. The barrel of the gun was laid

upon a left arm, that covered the face of the aiming man crouched in the hallway.

The Shadow knew that the bigshot had arrived in person. He had probably followed Mophrey's cab; had

wondered why the taximan did not return within the time appointed. The master crook had therefore

CROUCHING downward. The Shadow shoved Mophrey's figure to arm's length. Completely shielded by the

taxi driver, with a space between, The Shadow started a side shift. He intended to lunge Mophrey straight

toward the door; then wheel for the wall as the man fell. From a new position, The Shadow could gain a

Just as The Shadow started Mophrey forward, the man in the hallway opened fire. He blazed his shots

pointblank for Mophrey. Bullets drilled the back of the taxi driver's neck. Mophrey's head went limp, as he

Those bullets, three in a row, ended the taxi driver's life. The master crook was through with Mophrey. He

preferred to meet The Shadow alone, rather than trust to Mophrey's aid. Moreover, his quick shots disposed

With those precise shots, the hidden crime master placed The Shadow in an immediate dilemma. Starting for

the wall, to escape the fireglow, The Shadow was still in the light when Mophrey fell. He had no time to

The Shadow wheeled, straight toward the revolver muzzle that loomed in his direction. He thrust his right

arm forward; he turned obliquely, so that his right side would offer the only target.

Aiming squarely for The Shadow's breast, just below the cloaked right shoulder, the master crook fired.

With the flash of the gun, The Shadow staggered. The master crook had scored a direct hit. He saw The

Shadow flounder to the floor and sprawl in the blackness of the corner. No motion came from the cloaked

Mophrey's murderer was satisfied that he had slain The Shadow. Swinging the door shut, the killer started

A SINGULAR event occurred, the moment that the door had closed. There was motion in the corner.

Blackness shifted, wavering, out into the light. Miraculously, The Shadow had come to hands and knees. He

At first, The Shadow's motions seemed like those of a mortally wounded fighter, rallying with his last ounce

of determination. That picture changed. The Shadow found his feet. He scarcely wavered, as he started

toward the door. Despite the bullet that had clipped him, The Shadow was showing a burst of his accustomed

Shoving the door open, The Shadow hurried to the stairs. He did it without his flashlight, gripping the

banister as he started downward. In the darkness, he took a false step. Before he could recover himself, a

board from the creaky steps splintered beneath his weight. The Shadow lost his grip on the rail; went to the

Though he took the finish of the fall with his shoulders, The Shadow slithered on and rammed headfirst

against the door. Only the slouch hat kept the blow from knocking him unconscious. As it was, The Shadow

Again, he groped for the dropped automatic; found it and opened the door. It was unlocked. The departing

As he reached the space between the brownstone buildings, The Shadow could hear the distant shrill of police

whistles proof that the gunfire in the empty house had been heard. The sound did not deter him. Head

throbbing, he started blindly toward the brick wall. His usual bent for caution was gone with the blow that his

head had taken. All that his brain could grasp was that he must overtake a murderer.

Instinct rescued The Shadow, however, when he neared the wooden gate. He heard the barrier grate on its

A gun spoke from the gate. The murderer had stopped there; he had heard The Shadow's approach. His shot

was wide. The Shadow answered with two flaming pumps of his automatic; he shifted mechanically as he

completed the fire. Ordinarily, The Shadow's bullets would have told. Tonight, he was too groggy to take

The murderer fired back. His bullet sizzled wide in the darkness. Then the gate slammed. The master crook

WHISTLES, shrilling closer, brought disjointed thoughts to The Shadow. The police were coming; they

would be too late to nab the murderer, but they would find Mophrey's body. This was no place for The

Then came the throbbing recollection of Skibo's suitcase, on the ledge of the cellar window in the house next

The Shadow started back to that window. He found it, as he crept along on hands and knees. His head was

bothering him worse then ever, as he stooped forward. He could hear shouts, along with the approaching

Knowing it, The Shadow raised the window, encountered the suitcase and pushed it inward from the ledge.

The Shadow crawled inside on the ledge. Pulling the window shut, he fumbled for the catch. He located it;

lying on his side, he strained to hook the bar in place. He completed the action and relaxed his grip. Half over

Despite his grogginess, he made a valiant effort to stem his fall. He grabbed for the window bar. He missed it

and tried to grip the ledge instead. His fingers found no hold in the stone surface. Shoulder first, The Shadow

OUTSIDE, the police had found the house they wanted. Entering, they saw the flickers from the fireplace

upstairs. They went up and found Mophrey's body. Word came in that a taxicab was parked in the rear alley.

Someone had spotted a car speeding away, but had not managed to get the number. The police knew that the

Nevertheless, they searched the vicinity. They even scoured the space between the brownstone buildings and

found the cellar window where The Shadow had entered the adjoining house. One policeman flashed a light

through the window. He saw the fastened catch; beyond it, the doorway of the coal bin, with cobwebs across

The officer was convinced that no one had used that cellar as a route. He failed to see The Shadow, for the

The police completed their search and went away. The silence of night enveloped the row of brownstone

houses. The mystery of Mophrey's burning of the currency remained unsolved. The trail of Mophrey's

Precious hours were passing. In them, Slink Ratzler would go to Skibo Hadlen's. Wondering, when Skibo

would fail to appear, Slink would search and find the captive. He would take Skibo with him to the new

hideout, where Turk Dorth was stationed. That would be a place unknown to The Shadow.

Trails from the past would be gone when The Shadow awakened. His task of seeking a master murderer

would begin again. Yet, with those handicaps, The Shadow would still have reason for congratulations.

Tonight, The Shadow had been marked for death. He had taken a bullet straight from a murderer's gun.

Despite that shot, delivered where it should have killed, The Shadow had survived to continue his quest for

IT was nearly dawn when The Shadow's face appeared at the window of the deserted cellar. He had

recovered consciousness slowly; it had taken a long while for him to recuperate to a point where he could lift

The space between the brownstone houses was still pitchblack; but The Shadow must have recognized his

The Shadow loosed the window catch; stretched his arm to push the frame outward. A puff of fresh air

revived him somewhat; but his strength failed when he tried to draw himself up to the window ledge. Moving

around in the pit, The Shadow stumbled on the suitcase. He opened it; brought out the makeup kit.

Seated on the floor, The Shadow lifted the box lid and used the little light to smear away the remnants of his

makeup. He no longer needed the face of Skibo Hadlen; nor did he intend to risk showing those features to

After molding his face to the familiar countenance of Cranston, The Shadow packed the makeup kit in the

suitcase and swung the bag up to the ledge. He tried the climb again; this time, he gained a hold by the

window frame and pulled himself up to the ledge. Carrying the suitcase, he crawled through the window,

Once he reached the warehouse, The Shadow rested. Peering along the street, The Shadow saw that it was

deserted. Gray tinges of dawn were above. Increasing light would make it difficult to travel in guise of black.

The Shadow removed his cloak and hat and stuffed them into the suitcase. They filled it to capacity.

Carrying the suitcase, The Shadow walked along the street. Though hatless and overcoatless, he was not

conspicuous, for the day was dawning mild. He was attired in street clothes; for he had wisely discarded his

At a nearby corner The Shadow entered a cab, gave an address. He settled wearily in the rear seat. As he

Matters had gone badly. Out of the night's work, The Shadow had gained only a ten percent success. That ten

percent was represented by the bundled money still in his inside pocket: the hundred thousand dollars that he

The cab stopped near a doctor's office that was located on the ground floor of a pretentious apartment house.

After paying the driver, The Shadow produced a key and unlocked the door of the office. Inside, he went

through an anteroom and reached a little bedroom. There, he placed Skibo's suitcase in a corner and took off

Hanging the coat over a convenient chair, The Shadow went out to the anteroom and put in a call to Burbank.

Resting in an armchair, The Shadow dropped off to sleep. The ring of the telephone bell awakened him.

Burbank reported that Skibo was no longer at the apartment near Twentythird Street. As The Shadow

Going into the bedroom, The Shadow kicked off his shoes, stretched himself on the narrow bed and went to

sleep. He considered such rest the most important asset that he could gain; he knew that sleep might rid him

IT was nine o'clock when another person arrived at the office. The newcomer was Doctor Sayre himself.

Though young, Sayre was a man of serious bearing and reserved appearance. His manner suited the important

Sayre crossed the anteroom; was about to enter an inner office when he noted a folded sheet of paper tucked

in the dial of his telephone. The paper was from one of Sayre's memo pads. Sayre opened it, found it blank.

Sayre went through the passage to the bedroom. He saw the figure stretched on the cot and recognized the

The doctor nodded and went out to his office. He understood that the blank message meant that he had a

A long while ago, Rupert Sayre had undergone a series of adventures in which his life had been saved by a

mysterious being called The Shadow. (Note: See "Master of Death," Vol. VII, No. 2.) Since then, Sayre had

sworn allegiance to his rescuer. On more than one occasion, The Shadow had called upon Sayre for special

services. Certain events had caused Sayre to identify The Shadow as Cranston; at least, the physician knew

that The Shadow sometimes adopted that personality. Therefore, sight of Lamont Cranston told Sayre that his

BETWEEN appointments, Sayre looked into the room where The Shadow rested. At eleven o'clock. he found

The Shadow seated on the edge of the bed. Sayre mixed him a prescription; while The Shadow drank the

"I had a bad fall, doctor," remarked The Shadow, dryly. "Or, rather, two bad falls. First down a stairway; then

The Shadow tapped the right side of his chest: then opened his shirt front to show a round, red bruise. He

"Not broken; but it must have received a sharp blow. Just how hard was it, Mr. Cranston?"

"Sufficient to knock me down," replied The Shadow. "I felt the pain afterward, when I was at the head of the

"Whatever the missile," remarked Sayre, "I cannot understand why the bruise is such a small one. I examined

a patient once, who had been kicked by a horse. His bruise was similar to this one, but considerably larger.

The Shadow reached to the chair where his coat hung. From the inside pocket, he pulled out the bundles of

money that he had received from Turk Dorth. He passed them to Sayre. The physician uttered his

A hole was drilled straight through the bills and the bands that encircled them. Imbedded in the last tier of

The shot from the master crook's gun had found the wadded money. That accounted for the fact that The

Shadow was still alive. The impact from the bullet had staggered him; the slug from the gun had left its mark

DOCTOR SAYRE removed the bullet from the thickstacked money. He handed the cash to The Shadow;

studied the bullet and laid it aside. He decided to bandage the bruised rib. He obtained cotton and gauze,

formed a pack and bandaged it against The Shadow's chest. When The Shadow closed his shirt and put on his

Sayre looked quizzical, as though he expected The Shadow to relate new details of last night's adventure. A

slight smile framed itself on The Shadow's lips. In a quiet tone, The Shadow closed the subject, by making

"You mentioned a patient who was kicked by a horse. Suppose you tell me about that incident, doctor."

Sayre related about a polo player who had intended to use a borrowed horse. He had dropped his mallet near

the horse's hoof; as he stooped, to pick up the mallet, the pony had kicked him in the side.

"The chap was lucky not to have received a pair of broken ribs," concluded Sayre. "Very lucky, considering

the circumstances. Since he was playing polo" Sayre's smile broadened "he did not happen to be carrying

That was Sayre's last reference to the money that The Shadow carried. A buzzer sounded from the anteroom.

Sayre went to see another patient. The Shadow arose and went to the window of the little bedroom. He

slipped the band from a package of money and began to study the bulletdrilled bills.

To Rupert Sayre, the money had no significance except that it had served as a buffer against a bullet. To The

Shadow, however, the money had a more important meaning. These bills could give the answer to Mophrey's

odd action of burning up the quarter million dollars that Turk had left in the fireplace.

The Shadow had already jumped to a logical theory. He knew that the bills could produce the proof. Hence

The Shadow studied one bill after another, as he held them in the light. Noting certain marks, he began to

check the stacks more rapidly, looking for telltale details. When he had finished, he divided the bills into

The Shadow's smile told that his solution was the correct one. It revealed why Mophrey had been ordered to

Every bill that The Shadow had received from Turk Dorth was a counterfeit. False money not real cash

had stopped the death bullet. The counterfeit currency had been good enough to fool Turk and his band. They

were not experts in the detection of imitation money. They had taken their swag straight from the vault of the

Northwark National; hence had no reason to suspect that the funds were counterfeit.

TO The Shadow, false wealth told its tale. Mophrey's burning of the quarter million; the bills which The

A master criminal had duped Turk and the other bank robbers. The raid at the Northwark National had been

designed purely as a coverup for previous crime. A master crook, on the inside at the Northwark National,

had removed the real reserve fund and substituted counterfeit currency in its place. Knowing that the false

funds would not stand later inspection, he had planned the robbery to get rid of the counterfeit and throw

Turk and his crowd were holding money that was hotter than they thought. They could be forgotten for the

present. The Shadow's real trail would be at the spot where crime had originally been done.

At five o'clock this afternoon, The Shadow would meet the master crook in person, within the walls of the

There he would find the brainy criminal who held the real million; the man who used Mophrey to contact

Turk. That cunning schemer had murdered Mophrey to close the trail. He had shot The Shadow pointblank,

Knowing that he had failed to kill The Shadow, the master thief would try again. The Shadow was looking

A new thrust from the scheming pilferer might prove an important clue in the final establishment of the

PROMPTLY at five o'clock, The Shadow stepped from a taxi in front of the Northwark National Bank.

Inside, he was conducted to the president's office by a guard, and was greeted by Alexander Leddison. The

whitehaired bank president motioned him to a chair near the window and sat down beside him.

Joe Cardona was at the president's desk; the police inspector nodded a welcome, when he recognized The

There were three others present. One was Daniel Jennery, the cashier; the second Ralph Creeve, the head

teller. The last was the bank watchman, Brady, who had been on duly at the time of Turk Dorth's raid. The

Shadow immediately eliminated Brady as being of consequence. He concentrated upon the others whom

"Last night," he told the group, "a taxi driver named Mophrey was found dead in an empty house. There was

a fire in the fireplace. In the ashes, we found a few remnants that looked like banknote paper. Mophrey's cab

"From the evidence, we believe that the old house was a meeting place where Turk Dorth divided the stolen

million among his crew, including Skibo Hadlen. Mophrey must have come in on it, somehow. Probably he

knew something about the robbery, and demanded a cut. Our guess is that Turk paid him; then shot him.

Mophrey, afraid that the police would arrive, chucked his money into the fire before he died."

Cardona's summary was a good one, despite its inaccuracy. The facts supported it reasonably well. The

Shadow knew that the paper used in the counterfeit money was similar enough to government paper to pass

Sometimes, poor guesses led to good ones. The present case was an example. Cardona had learned, at least,

that Mophrey was in the game. Therefore, he had a chance to hit the real truth before he was through. In fact,

"Turk Dorth got information somewhere," declared Joe, in a convinced tone. "My hunch is, that Mophrey

knew who it came from and broke into the game that way. So we've checked on Mophrey, through a lot of

other cab drivers. We found out that he used to park his hack around this neighborhood. Here's Mophrey's

picture" Cardona planked a cab driver's license on the desk "and what I want to know is, have any of you

LEDDISON picked up the photograph and studied it carefully. He shook his whitish head.

"I use cabs occasionally," he declared, "when my chauffeur is not available with the limousine. I do not recall

Leddison handed the photograph to Jennery. The cashier held it close to his blinky eyes. He squirmed his lips

nervously; gave a good exhibition of his habitual jitters. Suddenly, he raised his head.

"I never use a taxi," he said, quickly. "I live at the Hotel Marigold, seven stops north by subway local. I

With a quick shift of his hand. Jennery shoved the picture to the head teller. Creve's stolid face showed no

change of expression. The squarejawed teller took the photograph between both hands, centered his eyes

"Never saw this chap," affirmed Creeve. "Jennery is wrong, though, when he says that I always take a cab. I

generally do, because I don't like the subway; and my apartment is on the other side of town. Sometimes,

"That's news to me," snapped Jennery, taking Creeve's statement as a personal matter. "I've always seen you

"If you didn't scramble for the subway in such a hurry," retorted Creeve, "You might see me let the cabs go

Jennery started to say something; then pursed his lips. Cardona was quick with the question:

"Only that I happened to see Creeve call a cab last night. We were here, both of us, going through records, to

see if we could find any reference to the serial numbers of the stolen reserve fund. When Creeve left, at half

past eleven, I went with him to the side door. I saw Creeve hail a cab that was parked across the street."

Jennery shot a quick glance toward Creeve, to see what the teller's reply would be. Creeve smiled

"Jennery is wrong twice," declared Creeve. "First, it was nearly midnight when I left. Second, the cab that I

Jennery started to dispute the matter of the time. He claimed that he had stayed at the bank at least half an

hour longer than Creeve; that it was just after midnight when he Jennery had departed. Jennery called

upon Brady for support; for the watchman had locked the door after the cashier left. Brady couldn't remember

ALL the while, Cardona watched both Jennery and Creeve, listening to the cashier's statements, looking for

the teller's reactions. The Shadow knew that Cardona was guessing close to the right facts. Joe believed that

the master crook might be an inside man at the bank. He was coming to the correct conclusion, that Mophrey

From that, Cardona reasoned that Mophrey might have taken the bigshot to the meeting place; that the two

could have gone in to collect the cut left by Turk Dorth. Mophrey could have demanded more money than the

Cardona had a hunch that the master crook not Turk had finished Mophrey. All that Cardona failed to

Both Jennery and Creeve were trying to establish the point that they had been at the bank at midnight, the

Either Jennery or Creeve might be the inside man. The two could not be in the game together; otherwise, they

would have avoided argument. If Creeve had actually left the bank as early as Jennery claimed namely, at

half past eleven the teller could certainly have gone to the meeting place either with Mophrey, or in time to

However, that did not implicate Creeve; for Jennery could himself have left the bank within five minutes

Cardona looked toward Leddison, to see the bank president's reaction. Until the present, Leddison had

disagreed with Cardona's suggestion, that an inside man could have tipped off the bank robbers to their

proper course. Jennery's angry outburst toward Creeve had produced a change in Leddison's attitude. It was

plain that the bank president regarded Jennery's utterances as an accusation toward Creeve.

Cardona saw a double possibility. Jennery might be opening a trail to the real crook. On the contrary, Jennery

might be doing just the opposite; shifting blame that really belonged to himself.

It was Creeve who ended Jennery's chatter. Whether Creeve felt himself suspected; or whether he figured

Jennery as a crook who was trying to clear himself, Creeve did not show. He simply changed the subject.

"You're upset, Jennery," asserted Creeve, bluntly. "You haven't gotten over it because I called you yellow.

I'm sorry for that. I thought you'd fallen for a phony story, when you said that there was a bomb in the

Jennery looked sour when he heard Creeve's apology. Lips twitching, the cashier sank back in his chair and

Leddison glanced toward Cardona, who was eying both Jennery and Creeve. The Shadow sat motionless,

resting his weight on his left elbow. He was favoring his injured right side. Sayre's bandage bulked above The

Shadow's ribs; but the coat The Shadow wore showed no sign of a bullet hole. The Shadow had put on a new

IT was Leddison who broke the silence. In a precise tone, the bank president spoke to Cardona.

"It is nearly half past five. inspector," reminded Leddison. "I must leave at six o'clock. Let us continue with

It was plainly established that the million dollars had been under frequent surveillance; that only the

authorized persons had been allowed access to the vault. Assistant cashiers and lesser tellers knew about the

money, but Leddison had given strict orders that none of them nor even the directors be told about the

protective measures. Only Jennery and Creeve were supposed to know that the head teller's cage was the

Cardona brought up the point that minor tellers had moved toward Creeve's booth, while the robbery was in

progress. After a short discussion, it was decided that they had guessed it would be the proper place to be,

All during the discussion, The Shadow was reflective. He had come here as Cranston, in order to pick out the

His present purpose was to let the criminal know that he, Lamont Cranston, was The Shadow, in order to

coax the supercrook into a move that might be a selfbetrayal. In order to accomplish his design, The

Shadow needed a break before six o'clock. It was a quarter before the hour, when the break came.

A uniformed chauffeur, who had just arrived with Leddison's limousine, entered the bank. Leddison nodded

"Very well, sir," returned the chauffeur. "Do you mind if I go for a sandwich and coffee? I can leave the

The chauffeur hurried away. The Shadow rose from his chair and looked through the highsilled window, to

see Leddison's limousine near the front of a space where signs said "No Parking."

As he stretched, The Shadow gave a sudden wince; he pressed his right hand against his chest. Turning about,

"I see that you have parking rights in front of the bank. Would I be allowed the same privilege?"

"Of course," returned Leddison. "That space is for persons who have business in this bank. That applies to

The Shadow pointed to the telephone on Leddison's desk. The bank president nodded. The Shadow dialed the

Cobalt Club; he asked to speak to the doorman. The connection made, The Shadow ordered his limousine to

"Tell Stanley to be here by six o'clock," he said. "He will recognize Mr. Leddison's limousine. He can park in

As he hung up, The Shadow gave new evidence of pain. He faked it well, sagging toward the chair where

Cardona sat. Cardona sprang to his feet; steadied The Shadow until he regained his balance. Joe put the quick

"Nothing serious," replied The Shadow. Gingerly, he stroked the bulging bandage that covered his injured

rib. "I had an accident, yesterday afternoon. I have to be careful how I move about. Last night was worse than

The Shadow hunched his shoulder downward as he spoke. He heard Leddison titter words of concern; saw

Jennery eye him with blinking eyes; noted also that Creeve was interested. It was Cardona who asked:

"A polo pony kicked me," he replied. "It was a strange horse, that went skittish when I dropped a mallet near

The Shadow had repeated Doctor Sayre's story of another accident. He expected it to be believed by all but

one person present. The disbeliever would be the master crook. He was one who could know that a bullet was

the actual missile that had encountered The Shadow's rib. From that, he would recognize the real identity of

How soon the murderer of Mophrey would take advantage of his new knowledge, was a matter of conjecture.

Coming events would probably decide the killer's course. Chances were that he would seize upon the earliest

JOE CARDONA'S quiz had ended before The Shadow made the telephone call. Hence Cardona had no need

of further questions after The Shadow made his subtle statement of identity, for the benefit of the master

crook. Completely oblivious of The Shadow's ruse, Cardona arose from Leddison's desk, to announce that

Daniel Jennery was prompt in departure. The nervous cashier hurried out of the office; stopped at his own

desk for his hat and coat. He continued out through the bank, evidently anxious to complete his daily routine

Ralph Creeve was slower in departure. The teller crossed the banking room; went beyond his window and

came out again with his hat and coat. Creeve was opening a wallet when he left the bank, thumbing a small

With Cardona and Leddison, The Shadow strolled to the center of the banking room, where the president

pointed up to the vacant space where the heavy chandelier had hung. Cardona was giving specifications

regarding the bomb that the police had found, when Leddison's chauffeur came in from the street.

"Very well, Rollin," interposed Leddison. "I want you to mail some letters for me. Then wait in the

limousine. I shall be there, shortly." The letters were in the office. Leddison brought them out, handed them

to Rollin. That done, the bank president shook hands with Cardona and The Shadow.

"You will have our continued cooperation, inspector," he told Cardona. "Phone me at my home, any time you

wish to hold a special conference. Also keep me posted regarding any new developments or theories

"There's no telling how long this case will drag out," returned Cardona, glumly. "We're up against a stone

wall, on account of those lost record books. That's where Turk Dorth was smart, grabbing those books that

THE SHADOW had no reason to linger, so he walked with Leddison toward the main door. Brady had

locked it just after Rollin went out. That seemed to be a habit with bank watchmen, locking doors and

Brady looked disappointed when he saw The Shadow and Cardona come along with Leddison. Three persons

coming out together cheated him of two additional chances to unlock and lock up again.

Rollin was back from the mail box, standing beside Leddison's limousine. While Leddison shook hands

again, another big car pulled up and parked behind the first one. Stanley had arrived with The Shadow's car.

Both Leddison and The Shadow offered Cardona a lift; but Joe declined, saying that the subway would take

him directly to headquarters. He watched Leddison and The Shadow enter their respective limousine.

Looking toward the second car, Joe saw The Shadow double slightly and pressed his injured side as he

Leddison's big car started away. Hearing the noise of its motor, Cardona happened to glance after it. Joe eyed

the curb; an object lying beyond it. A rounded bulb of blackness lay in the street, at the very spot where

Cardona started toward the curb; then suddenly changed direction. He flattened back against the bank wall,

Stanley had started the limousine forward, straight toward the rounded object in the street. The chauffeur was

looking squarely ahead. He could not see the black menace, for it was hidden by the limousine's high

The Shadow's view was even more limited than Stanley's; but from the rear window, The Shadow did see Joe

The chauffeur was trained to follow orders promptly. The big car was in low gear; Stanley shoved the clutch

pedal the instant that he heard the command. He pressed the gear lever forward; the shift meshed into reverse.

The limousine whined rearward, away from the blackened sphere that lay beside the curb.

During the two seconds in which the big car changed direction, Cardona did a long dive for the closed door of

the bank. Joe stretched full length upon the lowest marble step. Head sidewise, he saw the limousine

THE roar that boomed from the curb was terrific. Fire scorched outward. Chunks of paving skyrocketed

along with portions of the curb, to rattle against the granite wall of the bank and scatter out into the avenue.

Passing automobiles skidded for the sidewalks, as though they had been shuffled there by the explosion.

Cardona scrambled to his feet, lowered his arms from his head and looked for The Shadow's car. He saw it,

halted forty feet away. The door opened; the tall figure of Lamont Cranston stepped forth. Cardona joined

"Lucky you saw me, Mr. Cranston," declared Joe, breathlessly. "I spotted that bomb just after Mr. Leddison's

car pulled away. It was set for him! Somebody knew that he was going to be here until six o'clock."

Pulling out his watch, Cardona saw that it was only ten seconds past the hour. Joe mopped his forehead.

"Talk about lucky ones," he declared. "Leddison gets clear. You start right into it. Then you're away from it,

just in time. Here comes Leddison back. I don't know which of you is the luckier, Mr. Cranston."

LEDDISON had heard the explosion from a half block up the avenue. Rollin wheeled the limousine back to

His pompous manner forgotten, Leddison popped from his big car and hurried up to learn the details.

Cardona gave them. Joe was handling a length of wire that had been blown in from the curb.

"It was a regular pineapple, that bomb," explained Cardona. "Sat right under your car, Mr. Leddison. The

fellow that planted it must have known your habit of doing everything right on schedule. This piece of wire

"You mean that the bomb was set for six o'clock?" exclaimed Leddison. "But who could have wanted to do

"Turk Dorth, for one," replied Cardona. "Or the fellow that Turk's working for. There's somebody in back of

this whole game, Mr. Leddison. Somebody a lot closer to this bank than Turk Dorth."

"I don't doubt it," expressed Leddison. "Not after this. But who could have managed to put the bomb beneath

"Nearly fifteen minutes," testified Rollin. "I didn't stop at the car when I came back. It was so close to six

Cardona began to calculate the time element, counting on his fingers. Finishing his checkup, he declared:

"Jennery was gone about seven minutes, Creeve about five. That allows plenty of time."

The exclamation came from Leddison. The bank president showed a horrified expression.

"Time for somebody to plant the bomb," replied Cardona. "Right where it would get you Mr. Leddison."

"I can think of two places. From one of those locker boxes in the subway station." Cardona gestured toward a

Leddison's expression showed unbelief. Cardona saw it and furnished a further statement.

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Leddison," he declared. "It sounds like I'm accusing Jennery or Creeve of

attempted murder. I could, all right; because anyone that I suspect of the bank robbery could be suspected of

murder, too. On account of that fixed chandelier; and on account of Mophrey's death.

"But I'm making no accusations. I'm simply stating the facts that I've learned, and the things that could be

possible. Jennery could have brought that bomb from the subway station. He had time. Creeve could have

"Still, it could have come straight from Turk Dorth. Suppose Turk, or somebody else, had a car parked

hereabouts. Seeing your limousine here, with the chauffeur gone seeing Jennery come out then Creeve "

"That's it, Mr. Leddison," acknowledged Cardona, abruptly. "The main point is that the bomb was planted for

"I am safe at home," assured Leddison. "I have competent servants. I am sure that I shall be able to rely on

FROM the police who had arrived at the scene of the explosion, Cardona detailed a guard to follow the

Cardona walked over to The Shadow's car. Meeting The Shadow's calm gaze. Joe spoke in a confidential

"Maybe you thought it dumb of me, Mr. Cranston," remarked Cardona, "laying off of Jennery and Creeve the

way I did. I softened it, there at the finish. In fact, I kept mum about something that popped into my head

"Turk could have been waiting out here, watching for either Jennery or Creeve. The right one or maybe we

ought to call him the wrong one could have tipped Turk to plant that bomb. Still, the inside man could have

"I could sell Leddison on my opinion; but I'm not going to try to. I'd rather smooth things over; let Jennery

and Creeve stay on their jobs. I'm going to give them rope, for a while. That milliondollar snatch was a big

Cardona eyed the piece of wire that he held. He pocketed it on the chance that it might produce a slender clue

When The Shadow rode away, he saw Cardona still on the sidewalk, staring at the gray walls of the

Northwark National Bank, as if their grim granite masked the answer that the ace inspector wanted.

Paramount in Cardona's mind was the latest question: Who had placed the bomb to blow up Alexander

No one could have answered that question; not even the bombsetter. The bomb had not been placed for

Leddison. Its wire had been set beneath the wheel of Leddison's limousine, so that pressure would start a

Ten minutes after learning that The Shadow and Cranston were one, the master murderer had tried to take

The Shadow's life. So cunningly had the attempt been handled that even its failure had not revealed the

The Shadow knew that the thrust had been made for him. He had no doubt regarding the identity of the

master crook. Yet, like Joe Cardona, The Shadow intended to await some new developments.

When they came, The Shadow would move. Through his moves, he could enmesh the master crook in a web

At the end of the trail would be the actual million dollars that lay in the hands of one man.

THE next night, a man with a big suitcase registered at a small Manhattan hotel. The new guest was darkish

of complexion, gloomy of manner. His heavy mustache was droopy at the corners. He looked like a traveling

representative for some cheap wholesale house that no longer had a worthwhile clientele; hence his choice of

The mustached man registered under the name of J. E. Falkin and asked for a display room, which fitted the

clerk's guess that the guest was a salesman. He also gave the clerk two trunk checks; and told him to send up

A few hours later, J. E. Falkin was stationed in a fourthfloor room, with a display of cheap stationery spread

on a long table. His door was locked, however, which explained why the mustached man was seated at a desk

in the corner, going over long lists that had nothing to do with the sale of writing paper.

Those lists had come from his suitcase. They carried a number that represented a secret service operative.

Anyone closely connected with the United States Treasury Department would have recognized the mustached

man as Vic Marquette, one of the most competent investigators in the government service.

The Tman was expecting a visitor, for at intervals he paused in his study of the lists and glanced toward the

door of the room. On those occasions, Marquette listened intently, as though he anticipated a silent arrival

The slow, pulsated taps that throbbed from the door were scarcely audible. Counting them, noting their

The Tman went to the door; he pressed the light switch, darkening the room except for the corner by the

writing disk. There, a single shaded lamp showed the table and the lists upon it; also the corner of a trunk that

Vic unlocked the door and stepped aside. He discovered that the hallway light was out. As he stared into

darkness, Vic saw nothing. All that he could hear was a slight swish, that told him that his visitor had entered.

An invisible hand drew the door from the Tman's grasp; closed it and turned the key. A whispered voice

There, for the first time, he saw his visitor. A cloaked shape came into the light. Beneath the brim of a slouch

hat, Marquette saw the reflected gleam of burning eyes. Marquette's visitor was The Shadow.

"THERE are the lists," announced the Tman, in an undertone. "I brought everything, after I received your

message. If you can tell us where all these big notes are coming from, you'll be giving us the answer to

The Shadow pointed to the lists, using an ungloved finger. Vic saw a glittering gem upon The Shadow's hand;

he had seen that stone before. It was The Shadow's girasol, a priceless fire opal that he displayed as a token to

his agents and others whom he trusted. Marquette noted the listed numbers that The Shadow indicated.

"Hundreddollar bills," announced Vic. "Passed in Louisville, Kentucky. Every one of the fifteen notes was a

counterfeit. The fellow bought a new car; we got on his trail after he left town. He had a smashup when we

chased him. Hit by a locomotive and mangled to a pulp. No chance to identify him; but he didn't answer the

The Shadow went farther down the list. He stopped again. Marquette offered more details.

"That thousanddollar bill showed up in Miami," he declared. "Two men took it into a bank there. They

wanted it changed. The cashier detected it as a counterfeit; he called the police to arrest the pair. They put up

a gun fight, both were killed. One was a local racketeer; the other a smallfry crook who might have come

The Shadow checked two more cases. One concerned counterfeit money in Buffalo; the man who passed it

had fled to Canada. The other case had resulted in the capture of a man in St. Louis. He said that he had been

Marquette had seated himself in a chair beside the writing desk. In a perplexed tone, the Tman announced:

"There's no explaining this flood of bad currency. Queermoney shovers don't go around with guns, as a

regular habit. What's more, we can usually check back along their trail, picking up evidence here and there.

"Why did they try to pass the money so openly; shoving it through banks; using big bills, that excited

suspicion? Why did they try to battle it out? It's hard to convict a man just on the strength of a few bills in his

possession. We've got to trace back to the money factory; get hold of other bills, or plates.

"There's the oddest part of the whole thing. We can't begin to figure where the stuff was printed. We know

who the engraver is. He's old Tim Wadrup, a crazy fanatic who can't hide his fancy style when he fakes a

government note. But Tim has disappeared. He's buried somewhere. He may be clear out of the country, for

MARQUETTE had summed his troubles. Much though he relied upon The Shadow, Vic did not expect an

answer to the riddles. Dejectedly, the Tman watched The Shadow reach beneath his cloak. When he saw the

The Shadow had produced a huge fistful of money that corresponded with the very sort that Marquette had

just discussed. As Vic received the bills, he saw their high denominations; under the direct glow of the table

lamp, he spotted the little curlicues and other embellishments that denoted the workmanship of the wanted

Vic's discovery was overtopped by another feature that the counterfeit displayed. That was the hole punched

As Marquette put the question, The Shadow produced the bands that had once girded the false money. They,

too, had their bullet holes; but they bore a tiny, printed bank mark that Doctor Sayre had not noticed when he

"From the Northwark National Bank! Part of the swag that those burglars grabbed there!"

The Shadow's whispered laugh corroborated Marquette's utterance. The Tman had the key to the whole

story. In terse syllables, Marquette gave the thoughts that came to him, while The Shadow listened.

"A counterfeit reserved fund!" ejaculated Marquette. "The robbers took phony money. Each man received his

divvy. They scattered, thinking they could pass the cash. That's why they walked into banks and other places

openly. It tells why they thought they were safe. It gives us another answer, too; it tells why they all acted

tough. They thought that they had been recognized as bank robbers; that the numbers of the stolen bills had

Marquette stopped. He realized that these facts were plain to The Shadow. Instead of talking further,

"They were given to me by Turk Dorth," replied The Shadow. "He thought that he was handing them to

Skibo Hadlen. At that time, Turk mentioned that his other men had left New York. They carried

Marquette had calculated the bundles with the bullet hole. He knew they represented one hundred thousand

"That leaves half a million," remarked the Tman, "still held by Turk. He'll be wise enough to hang on to it.

"Turk has a quarter million," corrected The Shadow. "He gave an equal share to the man who told him how to

IT dawned upon Marquette that the bank robbery had been an inside job. Before he could piece the details,

The Shadow gave them. The statements fitted so perfectly that the Tman could find no flaw.

"The Northwark National was robbed long ago," declared The Shadow, "by one man a shrewd criminal

who is connected with the bank itself. He removed the reserve fund; he substituted the counterfeit. Through

Mophrey, a taxi driver whom he murdered, later he arranged for Turk to stage the robbery.

"To completely dupe Turk, this master crook demanded a quarter million. Turk left him that amount in

counterfeit bills. Since the only purpose of the demand was to make Turk think the money genuine, the

The Shadow's statement bespoke such close knowledge of the case that Marquette guessed the cause of the

bullet hole in the counterfeits that The Shadow had retained. The Tman could almost picture the encounter

"Our adversary has closed every trail," declared The Shadow, "except one that involves the past. At the very

beginning of his crimes, he took a dangerous step. He arranged for the engraving of certain plates, and the

printing of counterfeit money. It must have been a special order, so that the false bills would have the

denominations and the total value of the reserve fund in the Northwark National."

"That's right," exclaimed Marquette. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders: "But the job went to old Tim

Wadrup. The bigshot has stowed Tim away somewhere. How are we going to find Tim, to get the goods on

"Contact was not direct," replied The Shadow. "No bank official could have risked a meeting with a known

counterfeiter. Someone served as a contact to Wadrup, Just as Mophrey was the link to Turk Dorth.

"The contact man would necessarily be a shady character. One, however, who played safe enough to meet a

THE SHADOW'S answer hit home. Instantly, Marquette saw the link. Crooks who handled "green goods"

were certainly safe players. Their game was to approach some business man. They would give the victim

some real money, but tell him that it was counterfeit. They would suggest that he pass it at some bank, to see

that it stood the test. The victim would do so: the money, being real, would pass without question.

The greengoods man's next move would be a direct offer. Ten thousand dollars of this remarkable

counterfeit money, in return for a thousand dollars cash. The victim would pay his thousand; the greengoods

The dupe would go alone to the express office, so as not to excite suspicion. He would take the package

The greengoods racket left the victims helpless. If they cried that they had been swindled, they would have

to admit that they had tried to buy counterfeit money. The swindler could not be reached as a counterfeiter,

Nevertheless, there were times when the greengoods game slipped. Those came when a prospective dupe

went to a bank official and told how the greengoods man had approached him. Bankers, if quick on the job,

could make it troublesome for the greengoods handlers. Many large banks had information regarding such

That was how the bigshot at the Northwark National Bank had made his first steps to crime. He had looked

over the lists of greengoods men; picked one who was a smooth worker. Finding the fellow, he had given

him an unusual proposition: a greengoods game that was on a straight business basis. Twenty or thirty

BEFORE The Shadow could request it, Marquette had hurried to his unopened trunk. Unlocking the trunk,

Vic produced files of names and other information, all pertaining to greengoods men. The treasury

department had such data on reference. Marquette had brought it along, for greengoods records had been

"We don't run into many of these fellows," admitted Marquette. "but we file away all the information we have

concerning them. Where they were seen last; what kind of notes they tried to pass. Those facts are all

Steadily, The Shadow went through the records, continuing a search that Marquette would have given up as

The record bore a photograph of a man named Fred Hady, a longnosed, shortchinned man whose eyes

showed shrewdness even in the picture. Hady's profile was a graphic index to his character.

The Shadow's finger pointed to a record of Hady's latest activities. In North Carolina, Hady had tried a

greengoods swindle on a tobacco wholesaler; but the dupe had shied off, keeping the money that Hady had

"Trying the racket with some hundreddollar bills!" Exclaimed Marquette, as he noted the serial numbers

mentioned in the record. "That was going after it in a big way. Usually, those birds stick to fives and tens.

Say, Hady must have plenty of cash, handing a fellow a handful of hundreds and telling him to try them at the

"If Hady is the contact whom we seek", inserted The Shadow, "he was probably paid in money from the

actual reserve fund of the Northwark National. That would account for his possession of large bills."

"I get it," acknowledged Marquette. "We'll locate Hady. He's the keyman to the bigshot that the police are

after and the counterfeiter that the department wants. You'll hear from me when we locate him."

THE SHADOW had risen. He stepped from the range of light. Marquette followed him toward the door and

waited for The Shadow to depart. Three minutes passed; Vic spoke, and received no answer. He pressed the

The Shadow was gone. He had unlocked the door, stepped out and closed it so silently that the Tman had

not heard him. Marquette opened the door, saw that the corridor light was shining again. With a smile, Vic

Vic Marquette had forgotten one thing only: that this was a game of crosspurposes, in which crook had

swindled crook. Such a game was due to bring quick shifts of action that could nullify the best of plans.

AT the very time of The Shadow's departure from Vic Marquette's hotel room, a shuffling, thinfaced figure

was passing along a street three blocks away. Clad in overalls and carrying a rattly tool case, the fellow

The tool carrier who was shuffling across the avenue was Slink Ratzler, the "eyes" of the wanted bank

A block along, Slink stopped to rest his tool kit on the sidewalk. He was near a news stand; fumbling in his

pocket, he produced a few coppers and bought a newspaper. He opened it to the comic page, grinned wanly

as he read the funny strips. Folding the newspaper with the cartoon page outward, Slink picked up his tools

Slink arrived at a cheap rooming house. He lugged his tools up to the third floor. He went into a room at the

back, took off his overalls and hung them in a closet. There were other clothes there, but Slink did not don

Instead, he used a skeleton key to open a connecting door into a room farther front. It was a better room than

the first one. Slink locked the door behind him; went to a closet and brought out better clothes.

Slink played the part of two roomers at this house. After he had washed the pastiness from his face, brushed

his hair back and straightened his shoulders, he looked quite different from the shambling apprentice who

All that Slink carried with him as reminder of his former character was the newspaper that he had bought. He

carried it beneath his arm, when he left the rooming house attired in a wellfitted suit. But he had turned the

pages of the newspaper so that it now showed the sporting page instead of the comics.

Slink headed for the nearest subway station. He rode one stop in a local; then changed to an express. One stop

more, he emerged from underground and walked a brisk half block to a presentable apartment house. Slink

took the elevator to the fifth floor; unlocked the door of a small apartment, where he tossed his hat and coat

This, too, was one of Slink's many residences. As at the rooming house, he had a key that unlocked a

WHEN Slink stepped through to the adjoining apartment, he found two men awaiting him. They were Turk

Turk saw the newspaper; took quick, limpy strides to snatch it from Slink's hands. Angrily, he turned over the

pages to get from the sporting news to the front page. Glowering, Turk scanned the headlines. Skibo shoved a

The pair were after news reports from other cities; items which concerned the activities of supposed

counterfeiters. They happened upon some of the reports that Vic Marquette had mentioned to The Shadow.

"That settles it," growled Turk. "Dunk Gunley was the guy they got in Louisville; and Hop Wannick took it

in Miami. He knowed that guy Carraby down there the fellow this bladder calls a local racketeer."

Crumpling the newspaper, Turk slammed it upon a table; he gave vent to his rage by snarling at Skibo.

"You thought you had a holler," declared Turk, "because The Shadow did you out of a hundred grand. Well,

the dough wouldn't have done you no good. It's phony! From now on, I'll do the squawking. I was clipped for

"You'll get over it," put in Skibo, in a hard tone. "I did. Anyway, you're better off than I am. You can shove

"What do I know about getting rid of phony cash?" demanded Turk. "It ain't my racket. Never was and never

"What would I get for it? About two bits for a grand. I'd rather have hot paper than this queer stuff. Nobody

will handle it. First off, it's been spotted. Besides that, it's all in big bills. I haven't got anything as small as a

During the argument, Slink had picked up the newspaper. He found a headline that neither Turk nor Skibo

"Lamp this!" he croaked. "Somebody tried to bump old Leddison. Stuck a pineapple under the guy's car!"

TURK grabbed the newspaper for the details, read them avidly. When he was through, he started to throw the

"Keep your shirt on, Turk," suggested the front man. "This may mean something to us."

"The bulls seem to have the idea that you planted that pineapple, to begin with."

Skibo sat down, waved his companions to chairs. He came to his point in a hurry.

"You knew there was an inside guy," Skibo told Turk. "But he might have been anybody in that bank. Even

some clerk that was wise enough to look around. Well, whoever he is, he's getting shaky. The bulls are

getting too close to him; and Leddison is the guy that's encouraging them. It says so, here. One statement

"It says here that the explosion came right after Cardona had finished a quiz at the bank. Two guys had just

left there. One was that cashier, Jennery. The other was Creeve, the head teller. Suppose one of them is a

phony. That would make him the mug that doublecrossed us; and he'd be the bozo who tried to croak old

Skibo's theory brought a grunt from Turk. The squatty crook saw the connection and came to a prompt

"That makes Creeve the guy," declared Turk. "He outsmarted us. Told us to put the heat on Jennery; and

make him pull out the guy who controlled the alarms. It worked out just like Creeve wanted it. He made

"We'll get Creeve, and put some real heat on him! He'll do some fast talking, the doublecrosser! He'll cough

over the dough that's coming to us the real mazuma that he grabbed for himself."

"I don't pick Creeve as the guy we want," asserted Skibo. "My bet is that Jennery is the phony."

"That jittery guy?" snorted Turk. "He's got no nerve. You ought to know that, Skibo, the way Jennery folded

"I remember. That's just why I'm picking Jennery, Suppose he's the phony and wants to slip a fast one past us.

What does he do? He tells us that when we crack the bank, we're to work on him. So we do; and he does

everything I tell him. That makes him look like a sap; and he covers himself swell. What's more, nothing

could slip up. Jennery did everything we told him to. Sure he did. Because he wanted to see us haul out that

Turk listened intently to Skibo's analysis, but remained unconvinced. He shook his head, and replied:

"I still take Creeve. The whole job would have gone sour, if he hadn't walked out from in back of that

window of his. You figure that Jennery faked the jitters. I don't. I dope it that Creeve knew Jennery was

NEITHER Skibo nor Turk was willing to change his choice. They argued back and forth for a while, and

finally came to agreement on another point: namely, that the suspected doublecrossers should be watched.

"I'll take it," declared Slink. "I know where Creeve's apartment is. And Jennery lives at the Hotel Marigold.

But I can't case both of them joints. An' if I keep hopin' from one to the other, where am I goin' to wind up?"

Slink prevented further argument by producing a coin from his pocket. Looking from Skibo to Turk, he

Skibo flipped the coin. It fell tails upward. Skibo gave a sour grunt. Turk grinned; nudged his thumb toward

HALF an hour later. Slink arrived across the street from the East Side apartment house where Ralph Creeve

lived. Sliding into a doorway, Slink looked upward to a window that he knew was Creeve's. The window was

Slink watched the front of the apartment house. After twenty minutes, he saw a man stroll up and enter the

Creeve paused to light a cigarette. Slink could see the teller's stolid face; noted Creeve glance toward a

taxicab that came slowly along the block. There was a suspicion in Creeve's manner that made Slink take a

quick look toward the cab. He saw a man hunched in the back seat; glimpsed a nervous face that twitched.

Apparently, the cashier was using a taxicab for a change; spending his money to keep tabs on Creeve.

Evidently, the teller suspected it; Slink thought it likely that Creeve had spied Jennery in the cab. Slink

Creeve had gone inside. A minute or two later, the lights came on in his apartment. Slink heard plodding

footsteps coming along the sidewalk; he noted a patrolman who was inspecting doorways. Sliding from his

hiding place, Slink sneaked to the corner. He was gone when the cop arrived there.

Soon afterward, a figure stirred from a deeper doorway farther up the street. The patrolman had flashed a

light into that recess, but had seen no one there. The shape that unblended itself from darkness was the

Like Slink, The Shadow had spotted Creeve's return to the apartment house. He had also seen Jennery

peering from the passing cab. The patrolman's chance arrival had prevented The Shadow from observing

Slink's hasty departure. Like the law, The Shadow had missed the trail that could have led to the hideout

Slink was lucky to escape The Shadow's detection. His luck, however, would not hold perpetually, if he

continued to roam Manhattan as a spy for Turk and Skibo. The Shadow had not forgotten those two. He knew

that Slink would serve as their "eyes." Crossed trails would be likely in the future.

Crossed trails, however, could destroy the best of plans and force quick shifts of action. Tonight, a meeting

Whether or not the crossing of Slink's path would prove an advantage in the future was something that The

THREE nights later found The Shadow at the Cobalt Club, seated in the library. In the leisurely fashion of

Cranston, The Shadow was scanning a typewritten message that had recently been delivered to him. The note

was from Vic Marquette. It referred to matters that The Shadow had discussed with the Tman.

Secret service operatives had located Fred Hady in Savannah; but the greengoods man had left the Georgia

city by boat for New York. Hady's departure had been a chance one. He did not know that a Tman had been

looking for him. No operatives had gone aboard the boat. Hady was coming into New York tonight,

The Shadow had sent a reply to Marquette. It was to the effect that The Shadow preferred to handle Hady on

arrival. Marquette's present note was a reply, in which Vic agreed to refrain from action until he heard from

The Shadow. Therefore, The Shadow had called Burbank and ordered the contact man to post agents at the

This was the first night that The Shadow had resumed the guise of Cranston since the explosion outside the

Northwark National Bank. The next day, Lamont Cranston had supposedly gone on a trip from New York

and had not been expected to return for ten days. Since that period had not passed, The Shadow's appearance

at the club looked like an early return. News of it would not reach the master crook until later. Then, Cranston

It was time for Burbank's call. The Shadow strolled to the lobby. He was near the telephones when a call was

announced for Mr. Cranston. Stepping promptly into a booth. The Shadow received Burbank's report.

Hady was in New York. The greengoods man had brought no trunk; hence The Shadow's agents had not

been able to learn his destination by inquiry at the pier. Instead, they had trailed him by taxicab. Hady had

Immediately, The Shadow left the club, entered his limousine and told Stanley where to drive. The Shadow

was going to the Hotel Marigold in a hurry. Hady's choice of that hotel was both unexpected and significant.

The Marigold was an apartment hotel; most of its guests were there on a monthly basis. It was odd that Hady,

who stayed but a short time in any city, should pick a hotel like the Marigold. That was the unexpected part

of the situation. The significant portion was that Daniel Jennery lived at the Hotel Marigold.

WHILE The Shadow was still riding to the Marigold, a squinteyed man was watching the hotel from the

window of a Chinese laundry across the street. The man looked like a Chinaman, for his face was yellow

against the pane. Better light would have shown that the color was the result of a smeared paste. The watcher

A man came walking along the street, with short, brisk strides. His head was bobbing nervously; his blinky

eyes were scanning everywhere. The arrival was Daniel Jennery. Slink saw him go into the hotel.

It was odd that Slink was spying Jennery; for his job had been to watch Ralph Creeve. The answer came,

however, when a parked cab pulled suddenly from the curb and rolled away. In the back seat was a man

whose face showed plainly to Slink, just before the cab passenger took a quick look into the hotel lobby.

The man in the cab was Ralph Creeve. Tonight, Creeve had reversed the game. He was keeping tabs on

Slink came out through the front door of the laundry. It bore a sign that stated: "Closed." Slink locked the

door with a skeleton key. Walking along in stolid Chinese fashion, he kept clear of lights until he reached a

tiny drug store in the next block. There he sidled through the door, entered a darkened telephone booth in a

deep corner. The pharmacist, busy making a prescription, did not observe the entry of the fake Chinaman.

"Creeve's been casin' the Marigold... Yeah, ever since five o'clock... Paid a taxi driver to let him squat in a

"Yeah. I kept out of sight. Faked that I was a chink and got into an empty laundry... The lock was easy. If

Creeve saw me, he thought I was a Chinese... Yeah, Creeve beat it after he saw Jennery come in. He may still

"Listen, Turk. There's something else." Eager to spill the news, Slink forgot himself and mentioned Turk's

name. "There was a mug came in a while ago, an' I knowed him. He's a phony. A guy that handles green

goods. His name's Fred Hady... Yeah. He's at the Marigold. Sure. I'll get his room number... What's that?

SLINK broke off, as he heard the click of Turk's receiver. He began to realize that Turk had come to some

quick conclusion, after hearing about Fred Hady. The connection dawned on Slink.

Green goods and counterfeit money were different; but they were close enough to allow a link. Turk had seen

it; probably Skibo, too, for Slink had heard the two buzzing together while he talked over the wire.

Crouched in the phone booth, Slink produced a tube of cold cream; he smeared it lavishly to remove the

yellow paste from his face. He mopped his features with a handkerchief and pocketed the greasy cloth. When

Slink's delay, however, had lost him a chance to witness a new arrival at the Hotel Marigold.

The Shadow's limousine had stopped on the avenue near the hotel. On foot, The Shadow was nearing the

doorway that Slink had so recently watched. The Shadow was still guised as Cranston; with him, he was

The Shadow entered the hotel. He laid his briefcase against the front of a cigar counter that adjoined the desk.

While he was picking out some cigars, The Shadow noted the hotel register. New guests were infrequent at

the Marigold. Hady's name was the last on the list. The Shadow noted the room number as 315.

On his way to the elevator, The Shadow spied something else: a narrow passage that formed an exit to the

rear street. A doorway halfway along the passage indicated a courtyard that might form the outlet to a fire

tower. The Shadow rode up to the fourth floor; there he looked for the fire tower and found it at the end of a

The next to the last door on the corridor was numbered 415. The last door was a blank, the entrance to a

kitchenette. That meant that 415 was a suite; 315, on the floor below, would be the same.

It was possible that Hady had asked purposely for one of these suites. Perhaps he wanted to be where he

could make a hasty exit by the fire tower. It was also possible that he wanted to place himself where he could

conveniently receive a visitor from outside; one who could come secretly, up through the fire tower.

The Shadow used the tower to reach the third floor. There, he passed the blank door on the corridor; listened

outside the door of 315. There were no sounds from within; no light glimmered beneath the door, for it was

USING a thin pick. The Shadow probed the lock. He placed an automatic in his hand and pressed the door

Peering above the gun barrel, The Shadow saw a lighted living room, with panels that indicated a raised

wallbed on the other side. The suite consisted of a convertible bedroom, with bath and kitchenette.

No one was visible in the room; but there was a corner toward the bathroom door that blocked off The

Shadow's view. Entering, The Shadow first noted the darkened arch that led into the kitchenette. Keeping that

spot in view, he edged to the projecting corner. His next view was a sidelong glance, toward the space in

There, The Shadow saw something that would have rooted an ordinary observer and made him forget all else.

There was a crumpled figure on the floor; that of a man who wore a dressing gown. The man was dead; but to

The Shadow, the sight commanded vigilance. The lighted bathroom was empty; a glance told that. The

Shadow turned quickly toward the archway to the kitchenette, gave it his full attention.

Stepping sidewise, he straddled across the sprawled body, all the while covering the kitchenette, where a

lurking enemy still could be. The laugh that came from The Shadow's lips was mirthless; lowtoned, sinister,

it carried a challenge that any lurker could hear. It told that The Shadow would be ready for any thrust from

The Shadow's challenge sounded when he was beyond the body. From his vantage point, The Shadow could

examine the dead victim, and at the same time be prepared for instant action in the direction of the

Satisfied that any enemy would remain in cover, The Shadow looked toward the face of the dead man, that

There was no mistaking that longnosed, weakchinned profile. The Shadow had seen its photograph in Vic

Marquette's records. The dead man was Fred Hady, the greengoods worker whom The Shadow had picked

as the contact through whom a master crook had used to obtain a million dollars in counterfeit currency.

Like Mophrey, Hady had outlived his usefulness. The man from Savannah had been put away by the

THE manner of Hady's death was plain. The greengoods man had been shot through the heart. The killer

had used a gun wrapped in a hotel towel; the bulletscorched muffler lay at the dead man's side.

The Shadow, himself, could testify that the shot had been well silenced. He knew that it must have occurred

within the past few minutes. Hady had not been long at the hotel; the fact that he had unpacked his suitcase,

to put on dressing gown and slippers, proved that his death had been delayed. Calculating the time element,

The Shadow was sure that the murderer could not have had time to leave. It followed, therefore, that the

Instantly, The Shadow listened for any sounds that would indicate the killer's creep toward the far exit into

the corridor. None came. Evidently, the crook had decided to remain a while, confident that his presence was

Glancing downward at Hady's body, The Shadow saw that the dead man's left hand was doubled beneath his

shoulder. Its fingers were spread in starfish fashion. From beneath them projected the corner of a thin, sealed

envelope. The Shadow pulled the envelope from under Hady's hand. The ease with which it came impressed

Hady's hand lacked pressure. It had never held the envelope. It was bait, that envelope, placed there by the

The master crook expected The Shadow here. That was logical enough, since The Shadow had covered

Mophrey. Their hotel room, however, could not make an effective trap; and the master crook had no desire to

meet The Shadow in open combat. The Shadow's bulletproof ability had unquestionably impressed the

murderer. The master thief had known nothing of The Shadow's impersonation of Skibo; therefore could not

have guessed that The Shadow's protection had been a wad of counterfeit currency.

The supercrook's real hope was to lure The Shadow to some lair; to render him helpless before attempting a

deaththrust. This envelope could be the decoy. The murderer hoped that The Shadow would find it. That

was why he lurked; because, if The Shadow did not come, the killer would have to remove the envelope

EDGING toward the outer door of the room, The Shadow stopped by a corner table and turned on a light that

was there. He knew that the lurker could hear the click of the light switch. Picking up a sheet of paper that lay

The ripping of that writing paper formed a perfect illusion of sound. Hearing it in the kitchenette, the lurking

murderer gained the distinct impression that The Shadow had torn open the envelope.

By peering from the edge of his doorway, the killer could see Hady's body, with the envelope missing from

beneath its spread hand. Taking it for granted that The Shadow had opened the envelope, the killer did not

Listening. The Shadow heard the creep that he expected. The killer was sure that the bait was taken. He was

making for the outer door of the kitchenette. The moment that he detected the lurker's stir, The Shadow acted

quickly. He held the unopened envelope against the glare of the table lamp's strong bulb.

The Shadow had counted on the thinness of the manila envelope. The light penetrated it. Against the bulb,

The Shadow could see a slip of paper within the envelope; the glow plainly revealed a message, typed in

The Shadow drew the envelope away from the light; he slid it beneath his cloak. The signature, "W," could

mean. Tim Wadrup, the counterfeiter. Number 911 was probably the address of a building that gave access to

Wadrup's hidden money factory. Listening, The Shadow heard no farther motion in the kitchenette. He

decided that the killer had paused at the outer door, expecting something else. The Shadow acted in the

Turning out the table lamp, The Shadow went back to Hady's body, making just enough noise to indicate his

move. Stooping, he saw a wallet that projected from the dead man's inside pocket. From it showed the edge

The Shadow's lowtoned laugh was one that signified the pleasure of a real discovery. As it faded, he heard

the slight click of the door that led from kitchenette to corridor. The murderer knew that The Shadow had

FOR a few seconds, The Shadow remained motionless. During that period, he made a quick analysis. The

message and the card were bait, intended for The Shadow only. The murderer's lingering tactics proved that

he had not wanted them to reach other hands. Therefore, if the law discovered these clues along with Hady's

Anything that might tangle the schemer's plans could prove valuable. Reasoning thus, The Shadow produced

the sealed envelope and tucked it beneath Hady's hand, leaving it more exposed than before. To clinch the

matter, he added the shoes repair card, putting it upon the envelope so that its white surface was conspicuous

As he completed the process, The Shadow heard a muffled click. For the moment, he thought that it came

from the distant door between the kitchenette and the corridor, for the sound was an elusive one. It was

possible that the murderer had decided to return; therefore, The Shadow shifted to cover Hady's hand, while

An instant later, The Shadow learned that he had been mistaken regarding the source of the sound. It had

come from a closer spot. The Shadow turned toward the door of the room in which he stood. That door had

On the threshold was a scrawny, peakfaced man whose mouth grinned like an ape's, as he yanked a revolver

The sneaky spy had acquired a passkey and had come to Hady's room. Slink's entry had been stealthy; it had

momentarily deceived The Shadow. Spotting the blackcloaked investigator, Slink was responding to the

But Slink could not have finished The Shadow. He had betrayed his entry a half second too soon.

As Slink fumbled badly for the trigger of his gun, The Shadow performed a fadeout. He had the cover he

wanted: the darkness of the kitchenette, less than a dozen feet away. Shifting downward as he made his

crisscrossed sidesteps, The Shadow actually dwindled into nothingness as Slink aimed.

Had Slink managed a wild gunstab, The Shadow would have answered it with a tongue of flame from

blackness. As it was, Slink stood flatfooted, hopelessly unable to guess where to aim. The Shadow saw no

need to fire. Slink, however, realized a necessity of his own. He knew that from somewhere in darkness, a

With a hoarse cry, Slink dived out into the corridor. He gulped to someone beyond the door:

A SQUATTY, widefaced man shouldered in from the hall. His darkish glowers; his ugly, stainedtooth grin

showed that he doubted Slink's tale. The arrival was Turk Dorth. The bank robber snorted, as he followed

Turk shifted the door in and out. Its partial blocking of the room light caused wavy streaks of blackness along

the floor, and even added a patch of gloom upon the wall near the writing table.

"Jittery, ain't you?" queried Turk. "Anything black looks like The Shadow to you. Here, come on through; but

Slink entered timidly, shifted the door almost shut behind him. Worried, he watched the glide of blackness

from the wall. Wondering whether he was right or wrong, Slink crept along in back of Turk, still keeping an

Then came a growl from Turk, that made Slink jump about and stare in the direction where Turk gazed.

Turk Dorth had reached a spot where he could view Fred Hady's body. Sight of the dead man made Turk

Slink shook his head as Turk paused. Slink could not guess the answer. Turk motioned toward the telephone

Slink complied, using a forced voice that did not resemble his own, even though it might not have sounded

like Hady's. While Slink was calling, Turk stopped beside Hady's body, found the envelope and opened it. He

"Jennery ain't in his room." Slink gave the news as he hung up. "That means he could have bumped this guy

"Sure," agreed Turk. "Don't worry no more about Jennery, though. I got another idea, Slink."

Turk was pocketing the message and the card. He was positive that he was the first man to acquire this

information. The position of Hady's hand made Turk think that the man from Savannah had pulled the articles

from his pocket while in the midst of death throes. Turk was about to impart that information to Slink, when

TURK DORTH had seen past Slink to the outer door of the room. Turk's fingers tightened on the gun handle

that showed from his pocket; then refused to pull the weapon forth. His leer, despite its ugliness, was sickly.

Slink Ratzler bobbed about as he saw Turk stare. Slink, too, stopped rigid, his gun unraised.

The door of the room had opened silently inward; its surface, with the number 315, was plainly in view. It

was the doorway, though, that made the two crooks stare. Blackness had arrived there, to blot out the glow of

Against the background stood a cloaked shape that of a sinister being whose eyes were firelike, as they

The Shadow had moved through the kitchenette and out into the corridor. Silently, he had reached the main

door of the suite. His circuit completed, he had trapped Slink Ratzler, the spy who had first sighted him, and

Turk Dorth, the wanted bank robber. Trails had crossed. The result, at this moment, stood completely in The

THE entry of The Shadow provided a mixture of prospects for Turk Dorth. The bank robber was trapped, and

The law wanted Turk; therefore, The Shadow was after him. The law, though, classed Turk as the murderer

of Mophrey; hence wanted him for more than bank robbery. The law did not know the full facts; but it was

The Shadow's first action indicated that he knew more than the law. Moving slowly into the room, keeping

his automatic on a steady sway between Turk and Slink, The Shadow reached the table where the telephone

rested. As he placed his free hand upon the instrument, he gestured with his gun. In whispered tone, he

ordered Turk and Slink to drop the revolvers that they still clutched with numb fists.

Crooks let their guns clank the floor. Turk scowled, for he saw The Shadow's purpose. The Shadow intended

to summon the law. That offered the best way to dispose of this pair who had the ability to interfere with his

There was a purpose in The Shadow's move that Turk did not guess. The Shadow knew that Turk had found

the envelope; had read its message and had pocketed the telltale card from Hady's pocket. The Shadow

wanted those items to reach the police. Turk's capture would produce that result.

To Turk, the fact that he had found the envelope unopened was proof that The Shadow had not learned the

Therefore, Turk had more than mere freedom to fight for. He had a clue of his own, to lead him to the

Turk's venom toward The Shadow was matched by his desire to settle scores with a supercrook. That was

why Turk began a hurried protest, when he saw The Shadow reach for the telephone.

"Don't call the bulls," argued Turk, his tone raspy despite his helpless position. "I got something that you can

The Shadow's burning eyes gave Turk little comfort. Their piercing gaze told that it was not The Shadow's

"I cracked the Northwark National," he admitted. "I'm willing to take the rap for it. Only there wasn't nothing

in the job, except a load of queer dough. You're wise to that; you got a mittful of the bum paper yourself.

"I didn't shove it on you, though. That dough was supposed to be the real McCoy, right outta the vault. There

Turk stopped, beads of perspiration forming on his wide forehead. His yellowish face had lost its confidence.

He saw that he was making no impression on The Shadow. Turk made a last effort to square himself, asking

"I can tell you who the lug is," he blurted. "He's Creeve, the head teller at the Northwark National. Or if he

TURK ended his blurt unfinished. He realized that he had made plain his own uncertainty. The Shadow had

probably picked both Creeve and Jennery for investigation. If Turk had positively placed the goods on one or

the other, his testimony would have been of value. As it stood, it simply showed Turk to be a bluffer.

Turk saw one chance to correct his mistake. That was to come clean with the story of the envelope that he

had plucked from beneath Hady's dead hand. His face soured. Reluctantly, his ugly lips started to phrase that

Again, Turk halted; his expression was almost the same as before. The Shadow's eyes detected a slight

difference; a flicker of eagerness on Turk's ugly face. In a flash, The Shadow recognized that Turk had

Looking straight toward The Shadow, Turk could see the door from the hallway with the corner of his eye.

He had spotted someone in the corridor. Danger lay from that direction danger for The Shadow.

Instantly, The Shadow whipped away from the telephone table. He did not swing toward the corridor door.

Turk and Slink would have liked that move; it would have given them a chance to snatch up their discarded

guns. Instead, The Shadow came directly toward the men he covered. His gun hand thrust suddenly toward

Slink did a dive, as if the automatic had touched off a spring. Headlong, he hit the floor of the kitchenette,

The Shadow reversed his spin, to bear down on Turk. Far tougher than Slink, Turk was a hard man to bluff;

but he fell for The Shadow's ruse. Turk thought that The Shadow had threatened Slink, merely to get rid of

one prisoner for the moment. He took The Shadow's second swing as one that meant business.

Turk copied Slink's move, but in the opposite direction. With a wild leap, he cleared Hady's body and

lengthened himself for the tiled floor of the bath room, beyond the projecting corner of the alcove. It was not

The Shadow never stopped his speedy whirl. He finished his swing while Turk was clearing Hady's body.

All that Turk had spotted was a peeking face that he had recognized as Skibo Hadlen's. The Shadow saw the

full figure of this new enemy. Skibo was on the threshold, with drawn revolver, trying to aim for The

His shot was wide and high. The bullet zoomed above The Shadow's shoulder, crackled the glass of a

windowpane beyond the corner that hid Hady. The Shadow had not only twisted out of line, he had dived

The crook tried to aim again. Diving straight toward the door, The Shadow swung his arm upward in a

prodigious sweep. His automatic struck the barrel of Skibo's revolver just as the crook pulled the trigger.

With the clash of metal, Skibo's gun spoke. Its bullet found the ceiling just inside the door.

Skibo did a long, backward sprawl into the corridor, losing his revolver as he landed. Planking one foot on

the weapon, The Shadow pivoted back toward the room. He covered it, ready if either Turk or Slink made a

move to crawl forth and try to reclaim a revolver. At the same time, The Shadow was ready for quick action

In one quick sweep, The Shadow had rendered the crooked trio powerless. He had not fired a shot; and he

had turned Skibo's wasted gun blasts to advantage. They were an alarm that would be heard throughout the

hotel. They made a telephone call unnecessary. Those shots would bring the police. The Shadow could depart

Tense seconds passed. The plight of crooks seemed complete. Any conqueror other than The Shadow would

have considered victory a surety; and would have been so intent upon holding the three crooks helpless that

To The Shadow, however, this situation called for increased vigilance; not because of the helpless trio, but on

There was one spot that needed observation. That was the doorway to the fire tower. The Shadow watched it

with edged glances. One welltimed glimpse told him that his precaution was wise.

That door was in motion. It had opened a scant two inches. Through the crack came the same ominous gun

The master crook was in the game again. Evidently, he had delayed his departure. Hidden, as always, the

THE corridor offered no bulwark for The Shadow. It would be futile to use Skibo as a shield. The murderer

would drill him as he had done with Mophrey. The .38 had crept into sight with uncanny precision; its

muzzle was training for a shot as certain as the one that had found The Shadow a target on a previous

The Shadow made a shift as if to dive along the corridor, away from the tower door. He reversed it; with a

quick stride forward, he sprang into Hady's room. His free hand was on the side toward the tower door. With

it, The Shadow whipped out a second gun; as he shouldered into the cover of Hady's room, he shoved his

fresh automatic out past the edge of the door frame, training for the fire tower.

The murder's .38 boomed a belated shot. A bullet whistled through the corridor where The Shadow had been.

Hard upon that shot came the response of The Shadow's .45; a slug flattened against the tower door, less than

a half inch from the murderer's fist. Again came the speaking .38. Its pellet splintered wood from the door

Another shot was due. It was The Shadow's turn. His next bullet was scheduled to clip the murderer. Fortune

Fortune in the shape of Turk Dorth. Sounds of the fray brought Turk into action. Guessing that The Shadow

was engaged, Turk sprang out to view. One bound across Hady's body and Turk had reclaimed his revolver

The Shadow heard the clatter; he wheeled in from the doorway to put Turk out of action. The move gave

opportunities to Skibo Hadlen and Slink Ratzler. Both piled into the room on hands and knees, Skibo

grabbing his gun from the corridor as he came; Slink looking for a chance to snatch up his own lost weapon.

They were quick, those two; but The Shadow was swifter. Instead of firing at Turk, he made an unexpected

bound across the room toward Slink. Turk, firing wild, saw The Shadow jar Slink with an elbow shove. The

Shadow was making for the kitchenette, where he could handle all comers from ambush. With a bellow, Turk

The Shadow sledged a backhand blow. Turk took a gunweighted fist behind the ear; went staggering across

the room toward Skibo. The Shadow reached the kitchenette while Skibo's aim was half blocked. Losing

nerve, Skibo bolted out into the corridor. He stopped short, just beyond the doorway.

Face to face, gun to gun, Skibo was up against the murderer who had fired from the tower door. In that

instant, Skibo recognized his adversary. Sight of the foeman settled all question regarding the identity of the

Turk, half groggy, saw the gleam upon Skibo's face. So did Slink, as he crouched upon hands and knees.

They saw Skibo's lips move, as his trigger finger started its squeeze. A gun roared; but no flame spat from the

Skibo jolted; his finger stopped his pressure. With a sickly, incredulous look upon his face, Skibo Hadlen

SCURRYING footsteps told that the murderer was dashing toward the fire tower. He reached the darkness

that he wanted. From it, he turned to see a figure suddenly gain the corridor. The Shadow was through the

Hidden in darkness, the killer dived for a stairway. The Shadow followed. Shots roared from the fire tower

The Shadow shooting downward, the master crook blasting up from below. Bullets were useless on those

When he reached the second floor, The Shadow heard a clatter from the courtyard. Sounds of the murderer's

Returning upward, The Shadow reached the third floor. From the tower door, he saw Skibo's body stretched

in front of Hady's room. From a distance came a dull clang; the slam of an elevator door. The Shadow knew

Turk and Slink had started a getaway. They had chosen the elevators; had intimidated an operator, to make

him carry them to the ground floor. A dash through the lobby would bring them freedom. Again, the law

would be deceived. The police would believe Fred Hady to be the victim of a raid staged by Turk Dorth, in

Departing by the fire tower, The Shadow reached darkness below; made quick departure through an opening

between two rear buildings. He reached his limousine, amid the whining of approaching sirens. He was riding

His black garb packed away, The Shadow summarized results. Death had covered death. The murderer of

Mophrey and Hady had killed Skibo in order to cover his identity. So far as crooks were concerned, the killer

was still unknown. Turk Dorth would still be undecided in choosing between Daniel Jennery and Ralph

That pleased The Shadow. He knew the identity of the superkiller, and wanted to keep his knowledge to

himself. Moreover, circumstances had produced an odd result that promised definite consequences. The

The master plotter thought that The Shadow had taken that message; that Turk Dorth knew nothing of its

existence. Turk, in turn, was confident that he alone had read it; that The Shadow, surprised too soon by

The Shadow could foresee results from the double deception. The ignorance of his foemen promised a sequel

IT was late the next afternoon. Cloudy skies were bringing early darkness to Manhattan when Joe Cardona

alighted from an elevated train near the shabby old hotel where Vic Marquette was registered under the name

of J. E. Falkin. Approaching the hotel, Joe looked to see that the lobby was clear. Satisfied, he went up to

Marquette opened the door. The Tman looked somewhat annoyed when he observed his visitor.

Nevertheless, he admitted Cardona, closed the door and motioned the police inspector to a chair. Cardona

grinned, when he looked over Vic's display of stationery. Then Joe came down to business.

"Hope you don't mind my barging in like this," began Cardona. "We've worked together in the past. That's

"It was just luck that I learned you were in town," continued Cardona. "Bad luck, maybe, from your

viewpoint; but good luck from mine. When we found that fellow Hady dead last night, we came across his

steamship ticket from Savannah, so we got in touch with the police there, by long distance."

Marquette smiled sourly. Cardona knew why. Vic figured that Joe already knew everything that the police

could tell; and a great deal more besides. Joe rubbed his chin, thought a while. He decided to play his trump

"I know The Shadow is in on this case," commented Cardona. "That's one reason why I came here. I've

worked with The Shadow, just like you have. That sort of puts us in the same class, Marquette."

Cardona's remark scored. Marquette's manner changed. Vic went to the door, listened to make sure no one

was outside. Returning, he drew up a chair beside Cardona and became confidential.

"You're after a bank robber," declared Vic. "I'm after a counterfeiter. You'll get Turk Dorth, just like I'll get

Tim Wadrup when The Shadow finds them. The only difference is, he didn't need any information from

you regarding Dorth. That's why he didn't bother you. He needed some facts from me, though, regarding

Marquette's statement sounded logical to Cardona. Joe listened, while the Tman continued:

"The Shadow is after someone else. A bigger shot than either Dorth or Wadrup. A man who is more than a

Cardona's eyes opened and Marquette noted it. The Tman pulled out his watch, sighed and remarked:

"Sure," agreed Cardona, taking a chance on a quick hunch. "I've got nowhere else to go."

"You will have," returned Vic, "after I hear from The Shadow. Since you're sticking here, I'll let you in on

something. The key to this whole game was the cash that was taken from the Northwark National. It was bad

IF Joe Cardona ever expressed surprise, he did it when he heard Marquette's statement. His poker face faded.

Through Cardona's mind flashed a multitude of thoughts; as he classified them, he began to stammer.

"Then somebody somebody was a doublecrosser! It wasn't a straight job or maybe Wait, it could have

been a frameup, to put Turk Dorth in a jam. Wait, Marquette! I'm getting it. A coverup! Somebody

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm only going on what The Shadow thought it right to tell me. I had word from

him today; I guess he figured he owed it to me. You see, Hady was a link to the bigshot, just like Mophrey

"Hady was bumped before The Shadow got there. That's why The Shadow felt I had a right to the details.

There was a note on Hady's body. It told him to come to 911 Gannett Street at half past eight, tonight. The

Cardona understood. Whether the note was a genuine summons or a hoax, The Shadow could handle it better

than either the police or the Tmen. Cardona knew The Shadow's ability at stealth; and it was plain that

Marquette also recognized it. The Shadow had shown keen judgment in postponing all other action until after

Joe asked no further questions. He figured that Marquette had told him enough. Cardona simply expressed his

thanks; repeated his willingness to remain with Marquette until after the Tman had heard more from The

Marquette began to pack up the boxes of stationery, while Cardona paced the room, speculating on the

possibilities that this new information could produce. Joe was analyzing everything that concerned Creeve

and Jennery, trying to picture which of the two could have handled the job of switching the money in the

Either was in a position to do it, Joe reasoned. The job would have had to be done on a night when the vault

was open. A ticklish proposition, perhaps; but not impossible, considering the simple nature of Brady, the

WHILE Marquette packed and Cardona mulled, the minutes passed in lazy silence, until the ringing of the

Cardona popped to his feet, then sat down again, knowing that it was Vic's job to answer. Marquette spoke

"Sergeant Markham knew I was up here," he told Marquette. "That's why he called. He had word from

Leddison, the bank president. A conference at the Northwark National, tonight at nine."

Marquette looked disturbed, wondering how that would effect Joe's promise to remain until word arrived

"I won't have to get there on time," he told Vic. "What's more, you're welcome to come along with me. I

didn't think we'd have the conference tonight, because Leddison had to find out if both Jennery and Creeve

"We were going over the books," replied Cardona. "To check them up with some special statements from the

board of directors. It didn't mean much; only a chance to keep tabs on Jennery and Creeve without them

"Maybe, though, I won't be, after tonight." Joe's swarthy face showed a grin of anticipation. "If The Shadow

comes through for us, we may have enough new dope to pick the right bird. I'd like to have you in on it,

Marquette. Wadrup for you; Dorth for me; maybe The Shadow will give us the bigshot, fiftyfifty."

The thought pleased the Tman. Marquette shoved his trunk shut and locked it. He was about to make

comment when the telephone rang again. Marquette picked up the receiver, spoke a hello, then listened. His

"Yes. Only he handled it neatly. He'd hung up before I answered. The clerk gave me his message."

"Simply to be there at quarter past eight instead of half past; and to bring my friend along. The message didn't

CARDONA nodded agreement. It was like The Shadow, sending through a call that would have no

significance except to the person who received it. Since Marquette knew that The Shadow expected to be at

911 Gannett Street at half past eight, it was obvious that he wanted Vic there ahead of time.

As for the friend, Marquette was operating alone. Therefore, the answer was that The Shadow had learned

that Cardona was with the Tman. Joe smiled at the thought that The Shadow had probably been outside this

"It's fifteen minutes, at least, by cab. We'll have to travel fast, Marquette, if we want to get there by quarter

The two left the hotel room separately. They rejoined outside. Cardona had gone first; he was in a cab when

Marquette arrived. Joe gave the driver an address on Gannett Street that he figured would be half a block

Men of the law were responding to the call. They were confident that a surprise lay in store; one that would

bode ill for crooks, particularly a master criminal who played a hidden hand. They were right in their belief

What neither Marquette nor Cardona guessed was that the surprise was to be their own, and The Shadow's.

GANNETT STREET lay south and east, below the numbered streets of Manhattan. It was in a neighborhood

where old houses were crowded between antiquated loft buildings. Wholesale houses had their quarters here,

but most of them were obsolete businesses. Gannett Street was dead during the day. It was buried after night

No. 911 was a house that looked like a relic. Once it had been a member of a row; the houses on each side of

it had been torn down. In their place were loft buildings, looming on each side. Their bulky walls seemed to

support the solitary house between them. No. 911 was ready for collapse, but it had nowhere to fall.

Across the street another loft building made a grimy mass in the night. Its huge front was blackened with

accumulations of smoke and dust. Until tonight, no one had ever liked the appearance of that loft building;

but at last a visitor was pleased with it. The Shadow had found that darkened wall exactly suited to

Beneath the loft building's shelter, The Shadow was invisible as he kept steady watch toward the house

A weatherbeaten sign announced the Nobby Shoe Repairers as the occupants of the tiny ground floor of No.

911. It was obvious that the repair shop had been closed for months. The fringe of a street lamp's glow

showed a rickety door pulled half from its hinges. Strips of wood had been nailed across the opening; but

most of them were cracked and loose. The empty house probably contained nothing worthwhile; and

The luminous dial of The Shadow's watch showed seventeen minutes past eight when a taxicab stopped near

a corner and two men alighted. The pair edged along under the cover of the first loft building; they guarded

When they reached the front of 911, they were cagy about moving into the light. Huddled together, they tried

the boarded opening and found that the strips of wood were merely hung to the nails that held them.

Faces away from view, the two opened the rickety door and entered. Their final passage enabled The Shadow

Until that moment, The Shadow had accepted these men as the two whom he had originally expected: Turk

Dorth and Slink Ratzler. The actual arrivals did not match the crooked pair. Turk and Slink contrasted

greatly, when side by side; for the former was squatty, the latter frail and thin. The two men who had gone

The Shadow did not speculate long regarding their identity. He was confident that they could not be crooks

set to trap anyone who entered. Any such criminals would have been on the ground long ago. The only men

who might have come here at this time outside of Turk and Slink would be representatives of the law.

Vic Marquette knew of the trap at 911. Vic, operating strictly alone, could have met but one other man who

THE SHADOW'S next action was proof that he had not sent the message summoning Marquette and Cardona

to this spot. Coming from the shelter of the loft building, The Shadow glided swiftly across the street. He

avoided the street lamp; came to the doorway from an angle and blackened himself against the farthest side.

Boarded fastenings were blotted from sight; but The Shadow's shape did not take on an outlined form as he

made his entry. Affixing the slats in their former place, The Shadow made quick progress through the

Unfortunately, Marquette and Cardona had made speed also. The Shadow hoped to overtake them before they

reached a danger zone; but he soon learned that they had penetrated too far for warning.

At the back of the shoe shop, The Shadow's flashlight glimmered upon an opened trapdoor that showed a

rickety stairway leading below. It was the only route that Vic and Joe could have taken, but any glare of their

The Shadow descended. He came to the rear of the cellar. He found a narrow opening, where bricks had been

removed. Beyond was a passage that took an immediate turn. Stepping through the space, The Shadow

followed a course that involved a steady progression of corners. The underground passage had been squeezed

between the foundation lines of old buildings. Short flights of steps brought the route farther below the

No longer able to overtake Marquette and Cardona, The Shadow slowed his pace to study the path as he went

along. Somewhere, there would be a trap; probably one that would open for a new victim, after others had

gone through. If Vic and Joe blundered into such a snare, it would be The Shadow's task to find it and avoid

A short, downward pitch of steps; below them, a smooth cement floor. Flashlight inspection told The Shadow

that he had reached the lowest level. The flooring here indicated special preparation. Somewhere ahead lay an

underground den; either a subcellar beneath some old house, or an abandoned bit of subway construction,

The place was too elaborate to consider it a mere snare. It was certainly a lair; therefore, any trap would lie

Throwing a beam ahead, The Shadow saw that the passage ran straight for a dozen feet, then turned at a right

angle. The floor was too smooth to be fitted with a trapdoor. The walls and ceiling were supported by posts

and beams of steel. The thin girders looked like huge staples, forming the letter "U" upside down. They made

Those wall projections were the sort that could conceal mechanical devices, capable of trapping the passer.

The Shadow reasoned that the trap must be beyond the corner. Marquette and Cardona had passed this

portion of the oneway path. There was nothing to show that they had encountered trouble before this point.

SLOWLY, The Shadow moved forward. His ears were strained for any sound. They caught one that an

ordinary approacher would not have noticed: a faint rumble that was scarcely audible. The Shadow detected

the sound only because his ear was close to the wall on the right. It was almost that he sensed the vibration

Halting, The Shadow stretched prone along the cement; just managed to look to the right, past the corner.

There he saw the corridor, open. It ended in a flight of three steps, a dozen feet away. Beyond was the corner

His recollection of the rumbling sound gave The Shadow the answer to the riddle of the open way. More

posts lay ahead. The last girders formed a double arch at the very top of the steps. Those housed a sliding

door that could automatically close the passage as soon as someone stepped into the vault below.

The door was closed, ordinarily. Somewhere in the first portion of the beamed passage, a visitor passed a

device that made the barrier slide open. Probably a photoelectric cell, with a dark beam, invisible to the eye.

Thus the trap was equipped to lure the approacher. He would not know of its existence until he had passed

On his feet again, The Shadow passed the turn. He was in a safety angle from which he could retreat; as long

as he remained here, the barrier would be open. Retreat would cause it to close; that was why The Shadow

stayed. Marquette and Cardona were below. The Shadow was keeping the way open for them.

Neither of the two appeared. A whole minute ticked by, yet The Shadow heard no stir. He doubted that death

could have struck this soon; for he must have been only a half minute behind the men ahead. The likely

answer was that Vic and Joe were being held by some restraint that they could not shake.

The Shadow had wanted to avoid this trap entirely; that was why he had awaited the arrival of Turk and

Slink, intending to let them make the danger test. He could no longer dodge the snare, for Marquette and

Cardona were in it. Moreover, The Shadow had an explanation that fitted the circumstances; one that

The master criminal had set this trap only for one person: The Shadow. The luring of Marquette and Cardona

had been an afterthought. They had been summoned early, so that they could be held as helpless witnesses to

The Shadow's arrival. The supercrook would take no chances after The Shadow came. The Shadow was

A SWIFT glance at his watch gave The Shadow the time as eightthirty. It had taken Marquette and Cardona

a full four minutes to come from their cab to the shoe shop and make their actual start. Six minutes more for

the journey. The Shadow calculated three more for his own arrival and approach, with the short delay that

He knew that his lingering tactics would excite suspicion below. If he delayed too long, trouble would begin.

The Shadow's retreat would show that he had scented the trap. It might mean prompt death of the men whom

he had come to rescue. The Shadow's advance would place him in the same predicament that Vic and Joe had

found. It could, however, forestall the death of the prisoners for a while at least.

Considering the immediate future, The Shadow saw a possible gain if he took the seemingly fatal step. It was

Drawing an automatic from his cloak, The Shadow put away his flashlight and advanced. Ahead was a dull

glow from the vaulted room. Guiding by it, The Shadow passed the last pair of steel posts. The moment that

Behind him came a repetition of the rumble that he had heard before; this time, close enough to be plainly

audible. The Shadow felt that swish of air that came when a steel door slithered across the passage in back of

Looking to his left as he entered the underground lair, The Shadow saw Marquette and Cardona facing the far

wall. Beside them was a flatbed printing press; stacks of paper and counterfeit currency lay bundled near a

table that was piled with engraved plates. This was the hidden plant in which Tim Wadrup had turned out a

BEYOND Vic and Joe was a contraption that explained why the pair had not attempted a return to the

It was a screen of thickmeshed wire, strong enough to prove a barrier against bullets. The wire guarded a

platform, beyond which lay an open doorway. Braced by steel posts, the wire mesh could not be removed. In

The screened platform was a pillbox, equipped with a machine gun. Seated on a stool behind the weapon

was a rakish, grayhaired man, whose face displayed a madman's grin as it leered through the wire mesh. His

long, bony fingers clutching the machine gun, the fellow was ready to begin a slaughter at the first moment

The Shadow knew the man's identity. He was Tim Wadrup; his counterfeiting work forgotten, the old

engraver had become a guardian of this lair. His machine gun ready for its sweeping swing, Wadrup had

covered Marquette and Cardona the moment the steel barrier slid shut behind them.

Tim Wadrup had expected a third arrival. The gleam in his insane eyes told that his elation was complete.

With gleeful cackle, the old counterfeiter swung the machinegun muzzle to cover the cloaked avenger.

TO Vic Marquette and Joe Cardona, the swing of the machinegun's muzzle signified that slaughter would

begin. Helplessly, they turned about from the center of the room, to see The Shadow marked by the aim of

Faced by death, The Shadow made a calm, deliberate move. He placed his automatic beneath his cloak,

folded his arms and awaited the barrage of bullets. From his hidden lips came a sinister laugh that vibrated

uncannily through the vaulted room. The mirth seemed to mock the grayhaired man at the machine gun.

Chilling silence followed The Shadow's taunt. Puzzled, Marquette and Cardona turned to see Wadrup's

reaction. Through the screen they observed the counterfeiter crane forward. Leaning his elbow on the

machine gun, Wadrup lifted his trigger hand and stroked his chin. He cackled crazily, in answer to The

"My master was right," chortled Wadrup. "He said that The Shadow would laugh at death."

Tapping the machine gun with his bony finger, the old counterfeiter trailed a gleeful chuckle, and added:

"You do not fear this weapon. You have guessed that I do not intend to use it, unless necessity commands."

The Shadow was stepping forward. Wadrup sprawled his elbows on the machine gun, to watch the

blackclad visitor approach the printing press. The counterfeiter cocked his head as The Shadow stopped by

the table and picked up one of the engraved plates. A smile wreathed Wadrup's lips when The Shadow

It dawned upon Marquette and Cardona that The Shadow had chosen the one way to handle Wadrup. The

crazy counterfeiter could be humored. Wadrup's great pride was his workmanship. He was willing to grant a

Momentarily, Wadrup's expression showed a scowl. His finger moved in an itchy manner toward the machine

gun. He thought that The Shadow was finding fault with the false bills. Wadrup's smile returned, when The

Vic heard a whisper from The Shadow. The Tman caught the cue. It was his turn to take the burden.

Looking at the bills, Vic shook his head, as though unimpressed by the criticism. Tapping the fake currency,

he began an argument in its favor. Wadrup craned forward to catch Vic's comment.

"Cleaner than our own engravers could make it," voiced Marquette. "The only trouble with this stuff is that

With The Shadow, Marquette stepped to the table, lifted one of the engravings and compared it with the

counterfeit bills. Wadrup saw The Shadow beckon to Cardona. Joe came over to the table and joined the

Slowly, Wadrup's smile lessened; his lips took on a hardness. The crazed counterfeiter's reaction had ended.

Cunningly, Wadrup watched the trio by the printing press. His eyes were catlike; he was letting minutes pass

Fortunately, Wadrup could not hear the whispered words that The Shadow uttered. In guarded tone, The

Shadow was instructing his companions to keep up their pretense; to be ready for a coming break. Neither

Marquette nor Cardona could guess from where the break would arrive; but their nods told that they would be

Wadrup's harsh cackle was the interruption that brought a finish to The Shadow's instructions. The savagery

of the counterfeiter's tone told that he had tired of the game. The Shadow looked toward the metal screen.

"Fools!" scoffed Wadrup. "You think that I am weak enough to let you live. Bah! I could kill you where you

stand! I would have slaughtered you long ago, had I chosen. But there is another my master whose orders

"There is a better way than by this." Wadrup tapped the machine gun as though the weapon were a puny toy.

"A way that will bury all evidence. My press my engravings those extra bills; all will go along with you.

"There lies the way to safety," he taunted, "When my master arrives, I shall join him. The door will close

behind us. Five minutes will remain; then will come an explosion that will crumble this room to dust.

"Gather your evidence." Wadrup's voice was up to an elated pitch. "Plates and bills are yours. There is more

besides: real money the samples from which I worked. The lists that were copied from the numbers of the

actual currency in the bank's reserve funds. Find them; keep them. They are safe in your hands."

CALMLY, The Shadow removed a sheet of paper that he had seen projecting from beneath a pile of blanks.

It was the list to which Wadrup referred. The Shadow passed it to Joe, who clutched it as mechanically as

Wadrup watched The Shadow reach among the stacks, to find the small pack of real cash that the

counterfeiter had mentioned. Again, Cardona's numbed fingers took this batch of evidence when The Shadow

All that Cardona could think about was the doorway beyond Wadrup. Marquette's eyes were turned in the

same direction. Wadrup chortled his pleasure; then snarled. He wanted The Shadow to weaken also; to stare

"You would like to see my master?" Wadrup's query was for The Shadow's benefit. "Watch the doorway

then, for he will be here soon. When he beckons, I shall go. The door will close. Beyond it is a switch that

"Perhaps my master will let me press that switch." The madman writhed his fingers in a gesture of evil

anticipation. "Perhaps he will choose the task as his own. You three will never know. After that door has

Wadrup's voice trailed to a sudden break. Lost though he was in his own mad thoughts, the counterfeiter

Their sudden exclamations made The Shadow cease his indifference toward Wadrup. Even the blackclad

Suspecting something, Tim Wadrup bobbed about. A barrier was sliding smoothly across the opening. Before

the counterfeiter could do more than shriek a frenzied protest, the gliding door thumped shut.

WADRUP, like the three intended victims, was trapped. The master crook had arrived in a passage beyond,

to hear the old man's frenzied statements. Without stepping into view, the ruthless murderer had learned that

The hidden killer had pressed the switch. He was gone, with five minutes leeway before the blast would

strike. He would be out through his own passageway; away from this vicinity when the explosion came. With

his move, the murderer had added another prospective victim. He had doomed Tim Wadrup along with the

The deed was in keeping with the superkiller's style. He had murdered Mophrey and Hady, two men who

knew his identity. From the day that he had made himself known to Wadrup, the master criminal had planned

to rid himself of the counterfeiter. He had needed Wadrup's aid in the preparation of this underground trap.

The truth dawned on the counterfeiter. Madly, Wadrup sprang for the closed door; he beat against it, clawed

the shiny steel. Hatred, not terror, was his inspiration. In his madness, Wadrup forgot the machine gun and

The Shadow's watch showed eightforty; but the time was no longer important. All that mattered was the five

minutes that Wadrup had mentioned as being the final period before this lair would be shattered. The break

that The Shadow expected was already overdue. Unless it came almost immediately, death would be sure.

One factor alone had swung to The Shadow's favor. Until this moment, he had faced the problem of offsetting

Wadrup's machine gun when the moment came. The Shadow had planned a pointblank fire at the looming

muzzle, with the printing press as his entrenchment. That would not be necessary while Wadrup was

Turning, The Shadow pointed to the door through which he had entered. Hearing his command, Marquette

and Cardona started for the closed sheet of steel. Each clutched his trophies in his left hand, a revolver in his

right. But neither guessed what was coming next. They knew that the door could not be opened from this

MARQUETTE and Cardona halted, as they reached the barrier. Looking over their shoulders, they saw The

Shadow right behind them. His automatic was out from beneath his cloak. It was leveled toward the door; his

whisper ordered his companions to be ready. Hopeless though it seemed, Marquette and Cardona copied The

A dozen seconds lingered; the only sounds that disputed the room of doom were the screeches of old Tim

Wadrup. Then, at the end of those interminable moments, came the result on which The Shadow counted. As

For a full second Marquette and Cardona stared, unbelieving; then came the answer to the mystery. From the

blind angle came two figures. Revolvers glimmered; lips snarled, as two pairs of eyes saw Vic and Joe upon

New visitors had ventured to the underground lair a pair whom The Shadow had expected at half past eight,

but whom neither the master crook nor Tim Wadrup had expected at all. The automatic door had slid back to

Turk and his toady had crossed The Shadow's trail before. They had repeated their mistake, to produce the

very break on which The Shadow had depended in his rescue of Marquette and Cardona.

REVOLVERS barked wildly, as crooks faced men of the law. Turk Dorth was the first to fire; he had dodged

back toward the angle of the passage. His shot was bad, for Cardona and Marquette were diving low upon the

steps. Joe fired a return bullet as he flattened; but his effort was as wide as Turk's.

Slink and Marquette were aiming, gun for gun. Before their fingers could press triggers, an automatic

boomed from the bottom of the steps. Shooting low, The Shadow blasted a shot between the shoulders of

Joe and Vic sprang forward as The Shadow fired again, this time for Turk Dorth. The Shadow's limited field

of range brought luck to the squatty bank robber. Turk dived back past the corner, unscathed, with Marquette

Both made a quick dash. The Shadow had ordered it. The reason was plain, when they passed the opened

door. The barrier responded when they crossed the inner beam of light. It was sliding shut before The

The Shadow had foreseen this. The opening was wide enough for only two. He had instructed Vic and Joe to

keep going, once they started. When they passed the beam beyond the angle, the door would open again.

Unfortunately, the rescued men had an obstacle. Turk Dorth was alive to block their exit.

The Shadow's bit of bad luck that restricted shot toward Turk might leave him doomed below.

The Shadow had rescued Marquette and Cardona. It was their turn to reverse the favor.

A brief half minute was all that had passed; but in that time, another factor had returned. The Shadow had not

forgotten old Tim Wadrup. Turning about, he saw the counterfeiter staring from the closed door beyond the

screen. Wadrup had heard the gunfire that preceded the exit of Cardona and Marquette.

Seeing The Shadow, Wadrup realized what had happened. Frustrated in his vengeance toward the master

crook; placed in a spot where he was sure to die, Wadrup saw one last opportunity to release his venom. He

sprang for the machine gun, intending to riddle The Shadow with a hail of bullets.

WITH a minute nearly spent, The Shadow had no time for strategy. He took to the steps, pressed hard against

the closed door, ready for the moment that it opened. Aiming across the room, he pumped rapid shots that

A small loophole would have enabled The Shadow to clip the man beyond the screen. But Wadrup's screened

pillbox needed no loopholes and therefore had none. The Shadow's one chance was to put the machine gun

The range proved too great. The bullets that clanked the looming gun mouth merely nicked it, as they

Wadrup was swinging the machine gun as his bony fingers sought the trigger. Two seconds more were all

that the crazed counterfeiter needed. This time, the luck became The Shadow's. The blocking door slid

suddenly past his shoulder. Pressed against the opening edge, The Shadow launched into the passage. He was

Wadrup howled his disappointment. Viciously, he fingered the gun trigger, on the hope that The Shadow

Something had happened in the passage, just beyond Wadrup's range of vision. Wheeling through, The

Shadow locked squarely with a driving figure. He had his chance to aim; but his gun was empty. The

Shadow's only course was a grapple. The light from the steps gave him a view of his opponent. The man who

The closing of the door had brought darkness to the passage. Turk had gripped with Cardona and Marquette.

Joe, remembering The Shadow's admonition, had managed to break free and continue onward. He had passed

the outer beam; invisible mechanism had operated to open the door and give The Shadow outlet.

Vic was still at the angle. The Tman was witness to the struggle between The Shadow and Turk Dorth, for

they were against the light from the lower lair. Vic waited, although he could do nothing. It was impossible to

Brief seconds brought a sudden finish. Vic saw a cloaked arm go backward against the wall, as Turk pressed

The Shadow. A gloved arm, shoved high, broke free. Its fist sledged downward, carrying the weight of an

automatic. Whether the blow struck or missed, Vic could not see. Both grapplers took a dangerous lurch

It was old Tim Wadrup who first saw the finish. He was covering those steps with his machine gun. He saw a

blackgarbed form lunge into view; then twist about. To Wadrup, it looked as though The Shadow's cloak

peeled away, as a figure rolled headlong down the steps. Before huddled arms could halt the fall, Wadrup

The rain of bullets jounced the body like a puppet figure, twisted it, writhing, back upward on the floor. The

steel barrier had slithered shut above the corpse, when Wadrup stopped his fire.

A yellowed face lay sidewise on the floor, turned toward Wadrup's pillbox. Wadrup cackled happily; his

chattered laugh was to continue during the three minutes of life that still remained to him. The squattiness of

Wadrup was to die without the knowledge that The Shadow had eluded him. The man who had plunged from

PAST the closed barrier, The Shadow was gleaming his flashlight. He was at the angle where Slink Ratzler

lay dead at the feet of Vic Marquette. Up ahead, Joe Cardona heard The Shadow's tone. Joe stepped aside to

Joe or Vic might have blundered along the path to safety. The Shadow, apparently, had remembered the turns

in reverse fashion from his downward trip. He paced the way with uncanny speed. The men who followed

him thrust through the darkness, taking the flashlight's glow as their unfailing beacon.

They had reached the level of the old house cellar when the explosion came from below.

It was a dull, strange rumble, that blast. The whole ground quivered; long echoes poured upward from the

depths; crashes came from collapsing passages. The reverberations ended as a ceiling tumbled from above the

last steps that the escaping trio had passed. That fall blocked all sound from the tomb that had swallowed Tim

Small stones shook loose along the passage where The Shadow led the way. They glanced off his shoulders

and those of the two who followed him. The opening among the bricks was changed when they reached the

The Shadow warned his companions to wait, while he crept up the steps. Cardona and Marquette followed, in

Gaps had broken in the floor of the abandoned shoerepair shop. The sweep of The Shadow's torch showed

dangerous cracks along the walls, stretches that were slowly lengthening. Those tokens showed need for

speed along the finish of the route. The Shadow flicked his light ahead, ordered his companions through.

There was a rumble from the old house, as the rescued men sprang across the sidewalk. Turning as they

reached the street, they saw The Shadow's light coming through the tilted doorway. The brick front wall

leaned toward the street. Its mass plunged with a quiver as Vic and Joe flattened against the building across

They saw the downcoming structure engulfing The Shadow like a descending tidal wave. It was the speed of

his long strides that carried him clear of the crashing pile. The Shadow was across the curb, within a dozen

Bounding bricks were all that reached The Shadow; their force was spent. The Shadow's light snapped off as

he turned to view the gap that had reached the ground level between the two loft buildings opposite. All that

remained of No. 911 was a pile of debris that stretched beyond the center of the street.

IT was half a minute before Joe Cardona could shake off the numbness that gripped him. Speaking to Vic

Marquette, he found that the Tman had experienced the same reaction. Cardona, though, was thinking

"The brain behind it the one who trapped us he's gone to the bank nine o'clock "

Marquette caught the significance. Whoever he might be, the inside man who handled crime would have to

be at Leddison's coming conference to cover up his recent action. The killer had made a final decree of death;

had seen it to its apparent completion. To disavow all connection with it, he would have to reach the

The murderer had gained ample time to make the trip. The question was how soon Cardona and Marquette

could reach the same destination. Joe's watch showed that it was ten minutes before the hour. A speedy taxi

Cardona started to draw Marquette toward the corner; then remembered something. Joe brought out his own

flashlight, ran its glow along the wall beside him. He expected to see The Shadow; but the cloaked rescuer

As he turned off the flashlight, Cardona heard an answer to his action, just as if his use of the light had been a

spoken question. A parting laugh toned from somewhere in the darkness; its quiver carried the note of a

command. The Shadow had heard Cardona's words to Marquette. He had gained news of the coming

The law had gained the final trail that it desired. Like ghosts from a tomb, Joe Cardona and Vic Marquette

were on their way to find the master murderer whose decree of death had been amended by The Shadow.

THE clock outside the Northwark National Bank showed quarter past nine, when Cardona and Marquette

arrived there. The big front door was closed; but lights showed through barred windows. Those of the

president's office were most conspicuous. Their glow indicated that the conference had begun.

Indications changed, however, when Cardona and Marquette turned the corner that brought them to the night

door on the side street. They ran squarely into a man who was standing there. He was Ralph Creeve, the head

Though usually emotionless, Creeve showed a change of expression when he saw Cardona. He looked

suspiciously toward Marquette, as if wondering who the Tman was. Then, with a slight laugh, Creeve

"Guess you'll miss out on the conference, too, inspector. I've been waiting here since quarter of nine, trying to

Cardona eyed Creeve steadily; without changing his gaze, Joe nudged his thumb toward the night bell and

"I said that I've been trying to get in," returned Creeve, testily. "Nobody answers. The bell isn't working."

Joe was about to ask another question, when a cab wheeled up to the curb. From it stepped Daniel Jennery.

"I I didn't know you intended to be here, inspector," expressed Jennery, "I understood from Mr. Leddison,

of course that this was to be purely a bank matter. I'm sorry that I was late. I must say" Jennery winced a

Once again, Cardona was confronted with equal possibilities. Both Creeve and Jennery had indicated

surprise; but both had covered it, each in his own fashion. Which of them had amazement at sight of Cardona,

alive, was something that Joe intended to determine. It struck Cardona that the best way was to get the

STEPPING up, Jennery jabbed the bellbutton in brisk, nervous fashion. He waited, with a confident smile,

his eyes blinking as they stayed on Creeve. At the end of half a minute, Brady opened the door. The

"What's wrong with the night bell," demanded Creeve. "Or have you been sleeping somewhere, Brady?"

"Been right here, Mr. Creeve," grumbled the watchman, "like Mr. Leddison told me to be. Been waiting here

Cardona nudged Marquette. The Tman kept close to Creeve, an arrangement upon which Joe and Vic had

decided. Jennery had stopped to try the night bell. Cardona remained with him. When the cashier jabbed the

"It's jammed, maybe," commented Creeve. "Jennery poked it hard. That's why it loosened." Leddison was at

the door of his office when the group arrived. He was annoyed at Creeve and Jennery for their tardiness; then

"I thought you were always punctual, inspector," remarked Leddison. "I cannot chide you as I do my

Leddison had observed Marquette. Cardona introduced the Tman. Mention of Marquette's name brought all

instant response from Leddison. The bank president shook hands with Vic; then plucked a memo pad from

"This will interest you, inspector," said Leddison to Cardona. "It was here on my desk when I arrived at eight

The pad contained a message for Cardona from headquarters. It stated that he would find Marquette at the

Amboy Hotel, registered under the name of J. E. Falkin. The pad was stamped with the time: 4 p.m.

"That was half an hour before I called headquarters!" exclaimed Cardona to Marquette. "They said they'd

been trying to get me, to tell me what the Savannah police had reported. Only they didn't say they'd given the

"I left the office at three," explained the bank president. "I returned, this evening, at eight."

Cardona remembered that Brady had mentioned the time of Leddison's arrival. Joe was doing some quick

calculation. There had been a lapse of four hours while the message had lain on Leddison's desk. That could

"A secretary answered the telephone," the reply was made by Jennery. "She told me that there was a message

"To stamp it and leave it on Mr. Leddison's desk, in case you called. Afterward, I forgot it."

Cardona swung to the head teller. Creeve's eyes glittered their anger toward Jennery.

"I'll explain that," snapped Creeve. "I left some statements on Jennery's desk. They came from Mr. Leddison's

office. Yes, I was in there; but it was before four o'clock. I took the statements to my window, checked them

THE rivalry between Creeve and Jennery had broken out anew. Leddison rapped for silence; when it came,

"Kindly tell us," requested Leddison, "just what bearing these circumstances have on the case."

"A good suggestion," returned Cardona, facing Jennery and Creeve. "Somebody learned about Marquette

being in town and guessed that I was up there seeing him. The two of us were decoyed down to Gannett

Street. We just escaped a big explosion there. There was a fellow, though, who didn't get out of it. That was

"The criminal you sought!" exclaimed Leddison. "Then he set the explosive there "

"Not a chance," broke in Cardona. "The place we raided was a counterfeiting plant. We brought along some

evidence that will interest you, Mr. Leddison." Cardona turned to Vic. "Yours first, Marquette."

The Tman fished in his weighted pocket, brought out a flat metal plate that he had carried from Wadrup's

table. He laid the plate on Leddison's desk. To it, he added some of the crisp counterfeit bills from Wadrup's

Leddison showed puzzlement. He asked what connection these could have with the bank robbery. Marquette

"These bills match the stuff that was taken from your vault, Mr. Leddison. Your whole reserve fund was

"Impossible!" exclaimed Leddison. "We could not be deceived by fraudulent currency. No one could have

It was Cardona's turn. Joe produced the list that went with the samples of real money.

"A couple of loose bills that were sneaked to Wadrup," explained Joe, tapping the cash. "Here's the list of the

bank fund. Wadrup printed duplicates, just so things would be covered if the fund was checked, bill for bill."

BEFORE Leddison could make comment, Jennery was on his feet. Excitedly, the cashier pointed to Creeve

"There's the culprit! I knew that it must have been an inside job. This proves it ! I can say what I think. Since

the money was exchanged while it was in our vault, no one can dispute my argument. Creeve was too willing

Jennery curbed his excitement; his eyes stopped their blink and his gaze narrowed as he added:

"Even tonight, Creeve had an alibi. He claimed that the night bell would not ring. He wanted us to think that

Jennery's accusation swung attention to Creeve. The teller received the cashier's thrust with a contemptuous

"Jennery speaks of my opportunities," he declared. "He forgets to mention that he had the same. He had

access to the vault. He could have swapped the currency. He was the first man whom the raiders approached.

"As for tonight, when Jennery pressed the night bell, it rang. He could have jammed it beforehand, to prevent

my early entry, because he wanted to accuse me of crime. He says that I have no alibi. Where is his? It's odd

that Jennery, the subway rider, should show up here in a cab. Why did you, Jennery?"

The cashier sputtered an excuse. He had delayed at the hotel; being late, he had thought it necessary to take a

cab from there. Mention of the hotel brought another smooth question from Creeve.

"You live at the Marigold, don't you, Jennery?" quizzed the teller. "That's the place where Hady was

Jennery slapped his stroke home before Creeve realized the fault of his own statement. The teller chewed his

"I was watching you, Jennery, because you had been snooping around where I lived. I had to cover you, in

selfdefense. You're the crook and you know it! Your game was to plant suspicion on me!"

"Quite the opposite," sneered Jennery. "You brought Hady to the Hotel Marigold because I lived there. You

LEDDISON was pounding the desk sternly. Cardona and Marquette were on their feet, revolvers drawn.

Jennery cringed back in his chair at sight of the guns. Creeve sat rigid, his face sullen.

"The law will decide between you," pronounced Leddison. "With the evidence at hand, the true culprit can be

revealed. Let me add the only testimony that I can offer. This evening, I decided to hold a conference here. I

called Inspector Cardona and left word for him. After that, I called you, Jennery; and you also, Creeve.

"It seems obvious that since I set the conference at nine o'clock, one of you the culprit decided to act

before that hour. That explains one important point. It tells why Cardona and Marquette were hoaxed, and

Leddison finished with an outward sweep of both arms, to indicate that the case had entirely left his hands.

Marquette nudged Creeve with a gun muzzle, forced the stolid teller to his feet. Cardona did not have to urge

Gravely, Leddison looked from Creeve to Jennery. His headshake expressed both sorrow and doubt. He

seemed to regret the treachery that had come within these walls; at the same time, he was displaying the same

puzzlement that others had shown before, over the choice between Jennery and Creeve.

Marquette and Cardona, too, were perplexed. Vic kept a steady eye on Creeve, who might prove dangerous.

Joe, fearing nothing from Jennery, had opportunity to gather the exhibits from Leddison's desk.

As he did, Cardona looked again toward the bank president, in hope that Leddison might have thought of

The change that Cardona saw on Leddison's face was a startling one. The pompous man was staring straight

toward the door of the office; his bantam figure was rigid. The sound that came from Leddison's lips was a

Cardona swung in the direction of Leddison's gaze. A burst of sardonic mirth accompanied Joe's pivot.

Jennery heard it and sank to a chair, aghast at the sinister tone. The laugh brought a reaction from Creeve,

whose clenched fists trembled. Both saw the figure of The Shadow on the threshold; that cloaked shape, with

The arrival of The Shadow had quailed the innocent with the guilty. To Cardona and Marquette, it meant an

answer to the question that vexed them. All doubt regarding a man of supercrime would be cleared before

The Shadow had come to reveal the identity of the master brain who had covered a milliondollar theft with

THE SHADOW'S entry startled men accused of crime. It astounded Vic Marquette and Joe Cardona. The last

they had seen of The Shadow was at the house on Gannett Street. Somehow, he had arrived here with them.

It was Joe Cardona who guessed the answer. He remembered the incident at the night door; how Marquette

had gone ahead with Creeve, while Joe remained with Jennery. After that, Joe and the cashier had walked in

together. It was not until they joined the group ahead that Brady, the watchman, had returned to close the

It struck Cardona that The Shadow had been a witness to the outside scene; that his keen brain might have

detected a flaw in Creeve's story, or Jennery's. It was plain, too, that The Shadow had listened outside this

office door; that he knew all the details of the accusations hurled by Jennery and Creeve.

Could The Shadow change the balance of evidence, to weigh the scales against one or the other? Could he

provide new clues, obtained in his own investigations, to bring the murderer to light?

To Joe, The Shadow's arrival must mean that he could crack the case; and Vic Marquette shared the opinion.

The glances exchanged by police inspector and Tman were proof of their mutual belief.

The words that The Shadow spoke were a pronouncement that foretold a judgment. They crept through the

stilled room and brought back strange echoes, as though the walls themselves were in The Shadow's service.

"A murderer is with us," spoke The Shadow. "He has gained his spoils. He has disposed of all who aided his

purpose. He has closed every trail. No questioning can make him betray his moves of crime."

Moving slowly, The Shadow's automatic changed its line. It moved across from Creeve to Jennery; back over

"That murderer belongs to the law," added The Shadow. "Therefore, the law shall have him. Once facts are

told, the truth will be apparent. We begin with one assumption. The killer had access to the bank vault. That

"He removed a million dollars. He placed false funds in the vault. He arranged a robbery, to cover up his

crime and make his wealth secure. In doing so, he left all details to the robbers themselves.

"Recall the circumstances of that robbery. Consider one detail that has been overlooked. To secure his

unearned funds, this man of crime needed his own life. It was something that he would not hazard."

The words drilled home, yet their significance did not quite dawn upon Joe Cardona, the man most closely

"I speak to one man," he announced. "I tell a murderer that the thrust he made to conceal his own identity was

the proof that I required. It placed the indelible print of crime upon him. I allowed him liberty; he used it for

further murder. But his crimes were directed only against the accomplices who served him: men who

AGAIN, The Shadow's statement was only partially clear to Cardona. The ace saw why The Shadow had let

the case continue. The discovery of Wadrup's counterfeiting lair had been worth the delay in bringing a

criminal to justice. What Joe could not figure was how the murderer had revealed himself to The Shadow.

However, The Shadow expected the killer to understand; that was sufficient. It meant that the master of crime

could bluff no longer. If he ignored the law, he would have to face The Shadow. The murderer could expect

Silently, The Shadow stepped back to the doorway. He shifted out into the dimness of the banking room. He

was leaving the lighted office to the law; but The Shadow's presence still remained. He was an invisible

Unless a criminal spoke up, The Shadow would return. That was sufficient threat; but Cardona decided to

Moving to Leddison's desk, Cardona took his stand beside the bank president. He motioned Marquette to a

spot where the Tman would have a flank coverage on both Jennery and Creeve. The door needed no guard.

Vic saw logic in Cardona's suggestion and moved to the position that Joe indicated.

"We'll go back to the start," declared Cardona, grimly, to Jennery and Creeve. "Which one of you fixed things

"Threatened by men you hired," broke in Creeve. "Their guns were spiked, so far as you were concerned.

"You were the bluffer, Creeve. You pretended that you wanted to make a fight for it."

Jennery stopped short. His twitching face showed that he was reliving the scene of the robbery. His blinky

eyes were bulging in their sockets. Jennery forgot Creeve; forgot everything but his own dilemma.

Concentrating upon Cardona, the cashier gasped a plea that was inspired by his recollection of The Shadow's

"That's it!" cried Jennery. "That's what he meant! The bomb in the chandelier! It proves my innocence!

That bomb was set to go off with men outside to handle it witnesses said that Turk Dorth gave the signal

GULPING for breath, Jennery reached the desk, planted both hands upon it and held his crablike pose. He

tilted his dryish face toward Cardona. He curbed his nervousness as he added, in more coherent fashion:

"Can't you see that the bomb proves my innocence? How could I have been secure, with Turk Dorth handling

it? It was too dangerous for a bluff, that bomb. It would have helped if the bank had been blown. Turk Dorth

"You know a lot about Turk Dorth, don't you?" put in Cardona, gruffly. "Where did you dig up that from?"

"From your own findings," returned Jennery. "Those crooks Turk and Skibo wouldn't have given

themselves away, if they'd expected to leave witnesses. You said that yourself, inspector."

Cardona remembered that he had said it. If anything was certain, it was the fact that Turk had wanted to blow

the bank. It accounted for Skibo's open entry; his bold chat with Jennery. It explained why Turk had not

In fact, Cardona had seen the merit of Jennery's entire argument. Joe's sharp questions were merely a matter

The teller was leaning forward from his chair, his face elated. He spoke up for himself.

"You can forget me, too," declared Creeve. "I was in the same boat with Jennery. If that chandelier had been

With that, Creeve turned in his chair, thrust out his hand to Jennery, as token that their fetid was quits.

Puffing from excitement, Jennery received Creeve's clasp. Cardona eyed the pair suspiciously.

"Wait a minute," snapped Joe. "This doesn't fit. Somebody got into that vault beforehand, to haul out the real

An incredible answer halted Cardona. Before he could phrase the astonishing thought that struck him, Joe

saw Marquette make a quick shift. Vic was facing the desk; he was swinging his revolver past Cardona. The

CARDONA swung about. He saw the man whom Vic's gun covered. Alexander Leddison had been spotted in

a cunning move. Though standing, the bank president had his hand on a line just below the desk. His fingers

Leddison's hands came reluctantly upward. Cardona covered him; met the glare of fierce eyes that peered

Marquette reached the desk with a bound, snatched out the revolver. The Tman frisked the bank president,

Jennery and Creeve sat as silent witnesses. To them, the unbelievable had been revealed. Yet there was no

other answer. Outside of Creeve and Jennery, only one man had lone access to the bank vault. That man was

The bank president had been absent at the time of the robbery. Absent as he always was, on Friday evenings;

Leddison, the brain of crime, had expected Turk Dorth to do his worst. An explosion after the robbery would

have covered any chance trails to the master of crime. That was why Leddison through Mophrey had

urged the installation of the bombbearing chandelier as Turk's preliminary move.

The explosion had missed; but Leddison had been prepared. He had shifted suspicion to Jennery and Creeve;

Jennery and Creeve had furthered Leddison's purpose by their suspicion of each other. By pushing the

investigation himself, Leddison had covered up the one weak point. Only The Shadow had spotted the fact

that the man who managed crime would not have dared be in the bank the night the robbers came.

The Shadow had noted more something that only Leddison knew. The Shadow's statement to the murderer

had made Leddison's bluff a hollow one. Leddison had understood The Shadow's declaration, that the

Leddison remembered how The Shadow had come here as Cranston. He recalled his own pleasure when he

Leddison had seen The Shadow at the club the night before, guised as Cranston. At that time, The Shadow

had displayed no sign of a recent injury. Therefore, Leddison had guessed the true cause of the hurt: the bullet

That was why Leddison had planted the bomb beneath his limousine, to blast The Shadow's car when it

followed. Leddison had overlooked the result if his move failed. His thrust had given him away. Neither

Jennery nor Creeve had seen The Shadow as Cranston, the night before. Neither had reason to doubt The

Leddison's crime was known. With one statement, The Shadow had given the law its trail to the master crook.

With a second statement, he had shown Leddison the folly of denial. The rest had been a certainty.

Five minutes after The Shadow had stepped from the limelight, Alexander Leddison stood exposed as the

WHEN his fuming faded, Leddison became calm. Flanked by Cardona and Marquette, the crooked bank

president could make no further move. His lips formed a sour downturn, as he seated himself in his chair.

It was the last time that Leddison would occupy this desk as president of the Northwark National Bank. His

choppy profile showed a change of expression. Leddison's proud air had returned. He seemed resolved to

"Denial would be useless," boomed Leddison, chopping each sentence short. "My game is exposed. I failed to

cover up the past. I was sure that I could; therefore, I took no precautions to care for this emergency."

Perhaps Leddison's loud tone was normal. Possibly it was intended to carry from the room, to where The

Shadow listened. Whichever the case, Leddison was admitting complete defeat, that all could hear. Jennery

and Creeve, the men upon whom he had shifted the burden of suspicion, were witnesses to Leddison's

"I wanted that million," resumed the master crook. "I knew of Fred Hady. I summoned him here. He came,

thinking that he would have to explain some swindle that he had attempted. I saw that he was unrecognized

by anyone in the bank. I gave him samples of currency from the reserve fund, which had a slight surplus over

Leddison paused; he hesitated a moment, then shrugged his shoulders as if nothing mattered.

"Rollin, my chauffeur was in it," he declared. "I had him look for a suitable man to contact bank robbers. He

found Mophrey. He told Mophrey to cruise around here. I rode in the cab; told Mophrey what I wanted. He

"After the robbery, I let Mophrey know that the funds were false. I offered him a share of the real money, if

he would burn the counterfeit money that was left for me. I followed Mophrey and killed him. I had planned

LEDDISON did not mention The Shadow. Perhaps he had some notion that he could curry favor with the

master sleuth who had defeated him. Whatever the reason, Leddison kept to the same policy with his next

"I had a small bomb in my limousine," he declared "one which I had planned to put in Mophrey's cab. After

a conference in this office, I saw a chance to befuddle the trail. Jennery and Creeve had gone. I passed a note

"The passage of the car wheel started the shorttimed fuse. The bomb exploded. That blast could have been

set either by Jennery or Creeve; but you, inspector" Leddison looked shrewdly toward Cardona "were

inclined to blame it on Turk Dorth. By that time, Turk knew that he was doublecrossed. So the bomb

presumably placed for me deceived him also. It made him confine his plans of vengeance to Jennery and

Leddison refrained from mention of the bomb's more important purpose that of finishing The Shadow. Yet,

without that, the facts were sufficient to establish Leddison as a master schemer.

Cardona saw why the trail had become more complex, as it went along. Eventually, it would have left Turk

Dorth so tangled in the affairs of Jennery and Creeve that one or the other of those innocent men would have

"Tonight," concluded Leddison, "I found this message from headquarters. I had already arranged a trap for

The Shadow. I saw a chance to take two others with him. That was why I called Marquette's hotel from here."

Leddison's face showed a malicious gleam. He was thinking of how he had murdered Fred Hady; how he had

planned the end of Tim Wadrup, along with The Shadow. He was pleased at recollection of his own scheme

to enmesh Cardona and Marquette. Then, with a snarl, Leddison added an afterthought :

"How you escaped the trap, I do not know. Except that it must have been The Shadow's work "

"We'll come to that later," interrupted Cardona. "What we want to know right now is where you've got the

million dollars. Say!" Cardona looked past Leddison to the president's private safe, which stood against the

wall. "Maybe you stowed it here! That safe of yours wouldn't have been hurt by an explosion in the main

CARDONA'S hunch was right. It explained why Leddison's whole game had collapsed with his exposure, as

The Shadow had foreseen. Once suspected, Leddison would have to open his safe for the law's inspection.

"Open the safe," ordered Cardona, "and while you're doing it, give us the answer to something else. How did

you get down to Gannett Street and back again, between eight and nine? You had time to make it; you had

your own route into Wadrup's. But who let you in and out of the bank? Is Brady a crook, like Rollin?"

Leddison made no reply. He was thumbing the combination of the safe. The big door came open. The bank

Cardona ordered Jennery and Creeve to tear the wrappings. They complied. Real currency showed its green

Eagerly, the cashier and the teller began to count the money on the desk. As they thumbed the sheaves of bills

and checked them with the list from Wadrup's, Cardona came back to his former question:

"I could not afford to have an accomplice here in the bank," he declared. "I wanted a complete alibi. While

the bank was undergoing alterations, I arranged a few details other than the chandelier. Out of fairness to

Leddison swung the door of the safe half shut. He pressed the dial inward. It clicked. Leddison twisted it to

"That disposed of the night bell," he added. "Naturally, there were times like tonight when I could not

risk having Brady answer a call and bring someone in here, to find me absent. This connection was in

operation while Creeve was pressing the button outside. I had turned off the switch before Jennery arrived,

"Another wired hookup," he stated. "This controls the lock on the night door. It has opened automatically.

"Wait a minute," snapped Cardona. "Even with the night door open, you couldn't have walked past Creeve."

"An excellent point, inspector," approved Leddison, dryly. "It is one that I foresaw. So I installed another

STEPPING to the corner past the safe, Leddison reached into his pocket. Cardona and Marquette were ready

with their revolvers, even though Vic had frisked Leddison, to find no weapons on him. All Leddison brought

He opened a blade and probed a crevice in the corner of the wall, beside a closet door. Swinging the door

The knife blade had contacted a switch. The rear of the shallow closet showed the edge of a sliding door. In a

cramped space beyond the opening was a spiral staircase, leading to the floor above.

"This was installed during the bank alterations," remarked Leddison. "I have other servants, as competent as

Rollin. One is an electrician and mechanic; another a cabinetmaker. They came in as workmen. Since I hold

a lease on the second floor office above this one, the task of arranging a private outlet was simple."

The remaining details were obvious. One point, however, impressed Cardona with Leddison's cunning. The

bank president had not let his own men install the bombladen chandelier. That job had been left to Turk, so

that the bank robber would not guess that other devices had been placed inside the bank.

Jennery and Creeve had finished their quick count of the money. Cardona ordered them to wrap the bills. He

turned to Leddison, with the brisk announcement that they were going to headquarters.

The pompous crook winced; looked at a clock on his desk. The time was four minutes of ten; but Cardona

saw no significance in the fact. He forgot that Leddison's conferences were invariably timed to exactly one

"I have more to tell," expressed Leddison. "I would prefer, if you are willing, to complete my confession here

"Go ahead," interposed Cardona. "You might as well finish it, while we're on the ground."

"It's about the money," began Leddison. He stepped toward the bundles on the desk. "Jennery and Creeve

have found it a few thousand dollars short of a full million. Let me have the small bundle; the one with the

The package was not yet wrapped. Jennery passed it over; then continued to wrap the other bundles, aided by

Creeve. Leddison began to sort the hundreddollar bills, muttering to himself. Cardona gave a glance toward

Leddison looked up from the money. His eyes saw the clock, its hands indicating the exact hour of ten. He

remained motionless, as though his ears had detected a distant sound. Straightening, Leddison uttered a

THERE was a clatter from the big banking room; the dash of approaching men; guns spoke; bullets raked the

Alexander Leddison had tricked the law. His opening of the night door had admitted Rollin and other

followers promptly at the stroke of ten. Warned by Leddison's cry, the attackers had bombarded the spot

Like Leddison, Cardona and Marquette were positive that The Shadow had been clipped. Joe and Vic

bounded to the door of the office, to open quick fire on the invaders. They came face to face with five men

Cardona and Marquette dropped back, firing as they regained the cover of the office. Bullets splintered the

doorway that they had left. The surge came onward. A moment more, the defenders would have been

Shots from the flank interrupted. The Shadow had chosen Creeve's own booth, strongest of the tellers'

windows. He had gone there, minutes ago, to cover any trouble that might be due.

Rollin wheeled, as he heard The Shadow's fire; saw a man sprawl behind him. The chauffeur shouted for the

Crooks fired in unison. Their bulletbearing cartridges were as useless as blanks. The Shadow was low above

the ledge; his eyes and gun muzzle alone were visible, and they were protected by the bars through which he

Coolly and deliberately, The Shadow could have picked off the entire band; but there were others who

relieved him of that privilege. Since crooks had turned toward The Shadow's window, Cardona and

The Shadow dropped Rollin. Joe and Vic took the rest with a fierce barrage of pointblank shots that emptied

Vic pointed to the outer door, where Brady was coming groggily toward the office. Rollin had slugged the

Cardona remembered someone other than Brady. He thought of Leddison. Turning toward the office desk,

Joe saw the bank president struggling with Jennery and Creeve. Marquette swung also, just in time to see

Creeve was husky enough to halt Leddison; but the sinewy teller was battling a desperate man. He punched

for Leddison and missed. Leddison's hand clawed the desk, found a rounded metal paperweight and hooked

LEDDISON stood alone, as Cardona aimed and tugged at his revolver trigger, forgetting that the gun was

Marquette threw away his own revolver as he bounded forward. He sped his hand to his pocket, tugged out

Leddison's gun. It caught as he pulled it; slipped as Vic gave a jerk. The loaded revolver skimmed past

Leddison performed two actions. With his left arm he circled the stacked bundles of currency that represented

the greater part of a million dollars. Bounding away with his spoils, he stooped at the closet door, to grab up

Surplus packages tumbled from his grasp. Leddison kicked them beyond the secret door and leaped after

Leddison was dangerous. Bundles of money lay at his feet. Another pile of flabby packages ran in a stack

from his left hip to his shoulder, supported by his left arm. Above glimmered the barrel of Leddison's

Leddison wanted more murder. He saw men scrambling for the cover of the desk and the door of the safe. He

might have clipped any of them; but he preferred another target. From the office door, Leddison heard the

Rather than pull the switch that would close the path behind him, Leddison aimed for the office door. The

Shadow whirled through before Leddison expected him. The crook fired quick, inaccurate shots that sizzled

The Shadow's gun muzzle swung to aim, as Leddison made his second miss. Cramped by the base of the

spiral stairway, Leddison managed to bob his head and right arm past the edge of the sliding door.

He was after the switch with his gun hand. A turn of his body kept only his left side exposed. The loosely

packed bundles of bills protected him, just as a wad of money had once served The Shadow. Leddison's

stacks were larger. It seemed certain that no bullet could penetrate a layer that thick.

Nevertheless, The Shadow fired. Leddison jolted. He swayed back into view, the bundles tumbling from his

arms as he staggered forward. His left hand clamped to a spot near his heart. The Shadow's shot had done

CARDONA and Marquette were springing forward. The Shadow came with them, for they blocked his path

Leddison rallied; tried to aim for the driving men. Vic and Joe spread; The Shadow swept between them, to

thrust back Leddison's gun hand. The revolver hit the floor; Leddison's clawing hands went to The Shadow's

With a strength that seemed incredible for his small body, Leddison actually hurled The Shadow around

toward the closet door. Jammed to the wall, The Shadow's gun hand was cramped. He managed to get hold of

Twisting, The Shadow pulled his gun hand free, for a stroke that would have ended the crook's dying

Joe Cardona had picked up Leddison's gun. Jabbing it to the masterthief's side, Cardona had fired in The

Shadow's aid. The added shot ebbed the last of the crook's strength. Leddison crumpled from The Shadow's

Cardona stooped over Leddison's body, saw the murderer's eyes glare glazily as his winced lips coughed their

last evil gasp. Marquette, picking up a bundle from the floor, saw the hole that The Shadow's bullet had made

Remembering how a pad of bills had once saved The Shadow's life, Marquette ripped open the package.

Immediately, he saw the mistake that Leddison had made. The crook had picked up the bundles exactly as

Loosely bundled, the bills were one upon the other. The Shadow had fired at the edge of the stack; where

Leddison had failed to drive a bullet through a thick sheaf of papers, The Shadow's slug had knifed its way

A HOLLOW laugh ended the silence. It came from the spiral stairway. Looking beyond the spot where

bundles of wealth lay ready for reclaim, Marquette and Cardona saw a cloaked shape moving upward.

When Jennery and Creeve joined the gazing men, The Shadow was gone. He had chosen Leddison's private

outlet, to leave the domain where the bank president had plotted crime and paid the penalty.

Only the echoes of The Shadow's laugh remained. Quivering, they seemed to linger, bringing a chill clangor

from the steel steps of the spiral stairs. There was triumph in that solemn mirth. It told that justice had been

The Shadow would taste the fruits of victory again but it would be acid in his mouth until he came face to

To Lower California would go The Shadow, as an undercover agent of the United States government to

combat "Quetzal," superspy! Then would the fruits of victory taste sweetest to the Master Crimefighter!