RIVER OF DEATH ............................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. MINSTRELS OF DEATH................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE MAN ON THE FERRY..........................................................................................6

CHAPTER III. VISITORS FOR MR. HOLLISTER............................................................................11

CHAPTER IV. THE VANISHING BOOK ...........................................................................................16

CHAPTER V. A BEAUTIFUL MERMAID .........................................................................................23

CHAPTER VI. THE CHINESE LAMP................................................................................................28

CHAPTER VII. CREATURE OF THE DEEP ......................................................................................34

CHAPTER VIII. THE FLOATING FOLLIES ......................................................................................39

CHAPTER IX. A DANGEROUS WOMAN .........................................................................................43

CHAPTER X. THE ISLAND OF MUD ................................................................................................48

CHAPTER XI. THE COVERED PIER .................................................................................................52

CHAPTER XII. THE SHADOW'S GEOMETRY................................................................................56

CHAPTER XIII. THE INNER LOCK ...................................................................................................63

CHAPTER XIV. THE SUPREME FOE...............................................................................................68

CHAPTER XV. BEHIND THE MASK................................................................................................74

THE Hudson River was a broad expanse of darkness. The hour was long past midnight. A haze of fog drifted

low on the surface of the river. Nothing was visible except the hazy pier lights of Manhattan and the fainter

The boat was painted jetblack. The men in the boat were black, too. There were four men. Burned cork had

darkened their faces so that they looked like colored minstrels. But there was nothing comic about the gleam

Their goal was a pier on the New York side of the river, about a mile from the pointed tip of Manhattan. Pier

A was down at that tip the headquarters of the harbor police. But the thugs aboard the black speedboat were

ready for water cops. Nor were they worried about rival crooks. A whispered name, passed furtively from lip

to lip, would scare smallfry river pirates from the misty blackness of the Hudson.

The speedboat veered suddenly. It began to glide unseen toward the Manhattan pier line. Voices whispered to

Pike was the leader of these mobsmen of Davy Jones. He sat crouched in the bow, directing the progress of

the speedboat. From the clipped talk that passed between Pike and his men, it was evident that a raid was

about to be made on a steamship named the Equator. The plans that had been cunningly made to cover up the

They were repeating tonight what they had cleverly done on other occasions. The police had no knowledge of

gigantic crime going on under their very noses. They had no suspicion of the existence of a supercriminal

The clifflike shape of the Equator loomed suddenly ahead. It was in a wide water berth between two piers.

Everything favored the blackfaced pirates. The shore line was piled high with crates and boxes, preventing

any view of the river from West Street. The pier next to the one where the Equator lay was dark and deserted.

A strike had interrupted repairs to that pier. A derrick barge lay alongside, with a jumble of timbers and

The pirates expected help from a crooked steward aboard the Equator. Nor were they disappointed. A rope

ladder dangled snakelike above the water. But there was no sign of the peering head of the steward.

Suddenly, Pike cursed. He had drifted close enough to see the shape of a second boat! It was a bluntnosed

Pike recognized the boat instantly. It belonged to a river thug named Sailor Marco, who earned a precarious

living by stealing whatever his gang could lay hands on. They sold it to cheap fences on the Jersey side of the

PIKE'S action was swift. He boarded Sailor Marco's clumsy craft and scuttled it. The bluntnosed boat sank

with a greasy gurgle. The speedboat took its place at the foot of the rope ladder. Not a sound had been made

Leaving one of his henchmen below, Pike and the other two climbed the rope ladder noiselessly. They found

There was no sign of the river thieves. But the littered surface of the shadowy deck showed what was going

on. Cases of merchandise had been brought up from the hold. One of them had been broken open. The rest

Pike and his two pals moved cautiously toward a companionway door which had been pried open. They knew

there were six men in Sailor Marco's gang. They wanted to trap them without the risk of gunfire.

But fate intervened in the shape of a flashlight that suddenly emerged from the companionway door. The

beam focused on Pike's snarling face. There was a yell of dismay, followed by the roar of a shot. More men

Pike didn't reply to that shot. He was a shrewd killer. His two henchmen were invisible in the deck shadows.

The thug with the flashlight had seen only one man. He anticipated an easy victory. With a yell, he raced

They ran into a deadly ambuscade. A hail of lead ripped from a Tommy gun. Men reeled and fell. Blood

Of Sailor Marco's mob, three were killed instantly. Another was painfully wounded by a slug that pierced his

The other two fled. Pike took after the man who raced toward the bow of the liner. He had no fear of the

Equator's crew interfering with his vengeance. There was only a skeleton crew aboard in port, and the

treacherous steward had locked them in the fo'c's'le. Pike's pursuing feet made a rapid echo on the deck.

But the fugitive was racing with the fear of death in his heart. Squirming and dodging, he reached the liner's

bow before Pike's fuming gun could cut him down. He vaulted the rail and leaped desperately.

The bow of the Equator projected above the street. The crook landed among the piled cases of merchandise

stacked there. He was up in an instant. But a bullet from Pike ripped through his shoulder and dropped his

arm useless at his side. The blow staggered the wounded thug, but didn't stop him. He vanished beyond the

Whirling from his botched attempt at murder, Pike raced back to his own men. The thunder of gunfire had

scared them. Already the alarm had penetrated to the shore. The distant bleat of a police whistle was audible.

They got, instead, savage orders to stay. Sailor Marco was still unaccounted for. Pike ordered an instant

search for him. Marco had recognized Pike. Davy Jones' lieutenant knew it from the shrill yell Marco had

uttered at the beginning of the fight. Unless Marco was killed, the secret of a master criminal was in danger

But Sailor Marco knew his peril. He was hidden within a few steps of his murderous foes, waiting for a

chance to reach the rail of the liner. His opportunity came when Pike's men separated swiftly for a hasty

MARCO ran like a deer. He vaulted overboard as a hail of bullets whistled toward the blur of his body, struck

the black water with a plume of spray and vanished. Grim faces at the rail watched for him to reappear.

But Sailor Marco didn't. Born and raised on the water front, he was an expert swimmer. He had gulped in a

quick breath of air during his dizzy plunge to the river. He swam underwater, hidden from sight of the killers

high above. He passed the squat hull of the derrick barge opposite the Equator and swam to the pier beyond it

Pike, venting an oath of fury, knew that he had doubly failed in what had been planned as a perfect crime.

Two of Marco's gang had eluded the hail of bullets, including the cunning Marco. Pike's identity was no

longer a secret. And through Pike, the unknown master criminal who called himself Davy Jones might be

But Pike didn't lose his nerve for an instant or forget the real purpose that had brought him to the Equator.

Disregarding the growing clamor ashore and on the river, he raced down into the hold of the liner. He was

gone only a couple of minutes. When he emerged he was panting, but there was triumph in his slitted eyes. A

But Pike was still not finished. Some of the boxes of merchandise on the deck were broken open and the

contents scattered about. To the eyes of the police, it would indicate a cheap waterpirate job. It would

camouflage the real purpose for which Pike had come: the packet that dangled from his neck.

He leaned over the dead mobsters on the deck and pressed against their foreheads something which he had

whipped from a pocket. It left a queer threepronged insignia on the pale skin of each corpse. It was a design

in indelible ink a mark that would not fade, even from the salt washing of river water.

The mark was that of a trident. Every waterfront crook in New York would know what that meant. It was

The bodies were flung overboard. The thug who had been shot through the kneecap was carried a prisoner

down the swaying rope ladder. He was tossed into the black speedboat. Its engine awoke with a roar of

As it did so, a blinding white searchlight pierced the blackness of the Hudson. The alarm had reached the

harbor police at Pier A. The police boat was closing in on the murderous fugitives.

THE searchlight bathed the black craft with daylight brilliance. The criminals dived for cover. Three of them

took up firing positions. Pike remained coolly at the engine controls, keeping a stretch of white, bubbling

Police rifles began to crack. Bullets struck the black hull with a spiteful thwack! But the slugs merely

flattened and dropped into the river. The boat was protected by armor. Two thugs at a shielded machine gun

in the stern worked with grim speed to raise their deadly bullet mill. Its aircooled snout jutted through the

That first burst of spraying lead gave the gunmen their range. The flaming snout lifted. Lead whistled

The light went out. The policeman who had been operating it plunged on his face, his body riddled in a dozen

But the uniformed helmsman of the police launch had guts! Crouched low to avoid the hail of lead, he began

This was exactly what Pike wanted. He shrilled an order to his third henchman who had ducked toward the

The crook raised the pipelike snout of a cumbersome weapon. He loaded it with what looked like a metal can.

Compressed air sent it hurtling toward the bulletsmashed windows of the police pilothouse. It exploded

Out of that fog staggered the bluecoat helmsman, clawing at his agonized eyes. The police boat swung wildly

in an erratic half circle. Other cops sprang to take over the controls, but the dense fog of tear gas drove them

Pike turned over the controls to one of his pals and sprang back to where the wounded prisoner from the

Equator lay groaning in the cockpit. He forced the prisoner to talk with means that would have sickened an

ordinary criminal. He discovered with a grin of delight that Sailor Marco had an appointment in Manhattan

on the following morning. Marco was coming across the river from Hoboken on the nineo'clock ferry!

That was all Pike wanted to know. The prisoner's doom was sealed. But he wasn't shot or stabbed to death.

The prisoner was towed behind the speeding black craft at the end of a strong rope. When the boat slowed a

Pike ordered the black speedboat toward the jutting shape of the recreation pier at 125th Street. He whispered

grimly to one of his henchmen. The thug leaped ashore. The sodden body of the drowned man was shoved

A closed car was parked nearby. The car drove stealthily away with the drowned victim hidden under a lap

AGAIN the speedboat curved outward into the river. Pike had gambled grimly against time. His daring nerve

was proved when he ran almost instantly into a withering burst of rifle fire in midstream. The crippled police

boat was still doggedly pursuing the efficient killers in the employ of Davy Jones!

The fog of tear gas had cleared from the pilothouse. Another bluecoat had taken the helm. But the searchlight

was still damaged. The clink of tools was audible in the pauses between the crash of rifle fire.

Pike chuckled. Without a searchlight, the cops had no chance. He crammed on every ounce of power his

engines could deliver. Long before the sweating police mechanics could make a temporary repair job on the

shattered searchlight mechanism, the roar of the criminal speedboat had dwindled to a purr. The purr died in

Suddenly, there was a shout of elation from the cops toiling at the wrecked searchlight. A temporary rigging

brought renewed electric current. A new bulb was screwed into position in front of the powerful reflector.

The eye of the searchlight sent a dazzling white cone along the black waters of the Hudson.

Cries of astonishment went up, from the staring cops in the bow. The speedboat had been less than a half mile

ahead when its pulsating roar had died. Yet the boat was gone! It had vanished as abruptly as if the cunning

thieves had upended the stern and driven the boat straight downward into the muddy bed of the river.

Suddenly, the beam of the police searchlight focused on an object in the river. The thing proved to be a log,

A stick of wood thrust into the log held a fluttering rag. A uniformed arm reached out and clutched the white

rag as the police craft drifted slowly past. It was a man's handkerchief. On it was a grim stencil mark in

It was the only clue to the mystery of a drowned speedboat. It made no sense to the police. They didn't know

the real meaning of the crime that had taken place aboard the Equator. They thought that a gang of unusually

Pike, however, knew better. A perfect crime had been committed except for the escape of Sailor Marco.

Tomorrow would take care of that, Pike decided, with a grim tightening of his lips.

He chuckled as he unfastened a packet from about his neck. There was river water above him, but he was not

beneath the Hudson, as the police might suppose from the manner in which he had disappeared.

The police were destined to be helpless. But Pike failed to take another grim personality into consideration.

The personality of a man whose life was devoted to the wiping out of master criminals of the type whom Pike

Would The Shadow be drawn into this amazing mystery? Fate was already moving swiftly to answer that

TWO men were discussing the events on the Hudson River the night before, which had filled every morning

paper with sensational headlines. They were close friends. One man was Joe Cardona, acting inspector of

"Phony?" Cardona growled. "Two harbor cops dead! A gang of river pirates wiped out by another gang

who promptly disappear into the depths of the Hudson like a bunch of deepsea divers! Men found floating

in the river with a queer mark on their foreheads! Another discovered drowned in the Central Park Lake, in

"And this business about Davy Jones! Who is he? What is he? My stoolies tell me that for weeks the

underworld has been buzzing with quiet rumors that a supercriminal has taken over the entire water front of

New York. The stoolies were afraid to talk before this morning. It sounded too silly. Then this thing busts in

our faces, and every paper in New York except the Classic is yelling at me to make an immediate arrest. You

The loot involved in the crime aboard the Equator didn't make sense. A few smashed boxes of cheap

merchandise might have attracted the twobit mobsters of Sailor Marco, but never those efficiently

murderous henchmen of the unknown Davy Jones. Something more important was behind the Equator

"I figure it this way," Clyde said. "Sailor Marco and his punks were after the cheap merchandise. Were the

other guys after it, too? I doubt it. Not with the highpowered boat and the complete arsenal they seemed to

"That's why they were branded on the forehead and drowned. That's why one of them was boldly lugged

across Manhattan and dumped into the Central Park Lake. The whole stunt was a challenge to the underworld

as well as to the police. Don't you see the warning? Keep clear of Davy Jones leave the river front to him

It was Cardona's turn to grin. He bent forward and chopped a quick command into the square black box of his

"We found him hiding in the back room of a West Street flophouse, with a bullet through his shoulder.

Nobody but you knows that he's under arrest. He admits he was aboard the Equator last night and got shot

when he jumped ashore. Claims that he didn't recognize any of the other gang. But I got a hunch that Paretti

has softened up considerably. If he doesn't know anything, he can give us a line on Sailor Marco who does

A moment later, Paretti was led in by two stalwart detectives. He slumped heavily into a chair and the dicks

went out. Smoke's arm and shoulders were bandaged. His face was deathly pale, but his wound was not

Cardona spoke gently to him, asked him a question. Paretti's lips clamped. He refused to talk.

Instantly, Cardona's pleasant face changed. His jaw hardened, his dark eyes became flinty.

"Listen, Smoke! You're on the spot! Squeal, and I give you my word you'll go free as a State's witness after

we nail those cop killers. Or you can keep your trap shut; and I'll see that you go to the chair for murder!"

"I didn't kill no cops! You can't prove I was in that black speedboat. I can prove I wasn't!"

"Sure you can, Smoke. But can you prove you didn't bump off Rat Murphy a little over three weeks ago?

Paretti's face turned green. He knew that Sailor Marco had killed Rat Murphy. But he knew also that he was

"I'll talk! The hell with Marco! Why should I front for him? He scrammed and left me to take a slug, damn

him! I don't even know where he's hiding. But I can tell you how you can pick him up in half an hour!"

CARDONA nodded to Clyde. The reporter grabbed a sheet of paper and a pencil. His nimble fingers

When Paretti was finally led away, cringing with fear, Clyde pointed to his stenographic notes; but Cardona

shook his head. The facts were already neatly arranged in his methodical police mind.

Cardona knew now that there had been four gunmen in the black speedboat. All four had been disguised with

burnt cork. But Sailor Marco had recognized the leader before he escaped from the hail of gunfire. Marco

was hiding in Hoboken; Paretti didn't know where. But he disclosed something far more important.

Marco had boasted that he knew who the lieutenant of Davy Jones was. He was coming to Manhattan to

arrange plans for blackmail. He expected to pry big dough out of an unknown supercriminal by threatening to

"This is all off the record," Joe snapped warningly. "If you come with me, you've got to promise that you

Plainclothes men spilled into the room. They were given quick instructions. Two cars left police

headquarters without any fuss. Cardona rode in one. Clyde sat well back in the other, to avoid being

LAMONT CRANSTON stood, hat in hand, enjoying the salty breeze that blew across the choppy waters of

A punctual man, it pleased him that he had made the nineo'clock ferry in time. He was driving into town

from his palatial home in New Jersey, to attend to some routine investment matters. His sleek limousine was

parked in the ferry's vehicle alley. Cranston had sauntered up front to enjoy the cool breeze.

Few people noticed Cranston. A millionaire, a worldfamous traveler, a biggame hunter, he chose to live

quietly and without publicity. His name appeared occasionally in the social and financial pages of the

But today, as he stood idly near the churning bow of the ferry, Cranston's mind was concerned with crime.

Like most of the other ferry passengers, he had been shocked by the newspaper headlines that announced the

A burning glint appeared in the depths of his deepset eyes. For an instant, another, inner, man was revealed

behind the placid exterior of Lamont Cranston. Then that grim, briefly exposed personality vanished.

Cranston preferred it to be that way. It would hardly do for ferry passengers to realize that The Shadow was

It was a secret that no one suspected not even Police Commissioner Weston, nor Acting Inspector Joe

Lamont Cranston continued to think about the unknown criminal who chose to call himself Davy Jones.

Suddenly, however, his attention was diverted swiftly to something closer at hand.

Out of the corner of his eye he had seen a ferry passenger whose face interested him. The man was Sailor

Marco. Cranston didn't know that, but he divined that the fellow was a crook. His whole appearance indicated

that to the trained observation of The Shadow. Furtive terror seemed to flick in his beady, unpleasant eyes.

The Shadow's gaze turned toward eyes that were a lot easier to look at. They belonged to an amazingly pretty

girl. She was wearing a light frock that revealed the perfection of her figure, as the breeze outlined the soft

She was watching the crook that Cranston had noticed a moment earlier. Cranston was unable to tell whether

a secret signal passed between them. Presently, the man melted among the crowd of passengers. The girl

Cranston wondered if the pair were planning to meet unobserved at the deserted stern of the boat. He waited

He had barely taken three steps when a shrill cry roused him to action. It was the terrified scream of a

She was standing alone when Cranston saw her. He hung back, allowed other passengers to run to her aid.

Her body was quivering with fright. There was a livid bruise on her bare forearm where someone had

The girl offered a hysterical explanation for her scream. A man had insulted her. When she had resented it, he

had struck her. He had fled through the women's cabin. She described her assailant. He was not the man

A search of the women's cabin failed to find the alleged masher. The cabin itself was deserted. The

passengers who had remained indoors nearly all of them men had stayed on the smokers' side.

Cranston, continuing quietly about the churning ferryboat, made a most interesting discovery. The masher

was not the only person missing on the boat. The beadyeyed crook whom Cranston had momentarily lost

However, Cranston had no time to pursue the investigation further. The ferry had already slackened speed to

enter its Manhattan slip. It struck with a bump and was made fast. Passengers began to leave.

BUT they were halted by a strange sight. A squad of plainclothes detectives were leaping aboard the

moored ferry. Cranston recognized in the very forefront of the detectives the darkly grim visage of Acting

Joe knew Cranston, but he merely nodded. Under his orders, the startled ferry passengers were herded

together. Shrewd police eyes scanned every male face. The man they were searching for was not among

Cardona muttered a lowtoned oath of disappointment. He permitted the passengers to leave the boat.

Cranston, however, did not depart. He had drifted toward the darkness of the vehicle runway, where his car

was parked farther back. He smiled and advanced, as he saw Cardona beckoning to him.

"Hello, Mr. Cranston! Sorry to annoy you with that quick passenger search, but we're here to pick up a guy

who was supposed to be on this trip of the ferry. Did you happen to see a passenger who looked like this?"

He showed Cranston a photo. It was a picture of the thug with the beady eyes. Cranston's reply didn't reveal

"Of course! I remember him! Sailor Marco, eh? And you say he's a criminal. He was on the ferry, up front

with the rest of us. He disappeared when we began to nose into Manhattan. A rather queer incident happened,

He described the pretty girl who had brushed close for an instant to Sailor Marco. He told of the girl's trip to

the stern of the boat, her scream of fright when a mysterious masher had insulted her. The masher, too, had

"I knew it," Cardona growled. "That whole masher business was a plant. The girl screamed to create a

"I wish I had spoken to you sooner! We could have nabbed the girl. She must have walked calmly ashore

"Come to think of it," Joe cried grimly, "I didn't notice any dame such as you described leave the boat!" He

There was a general shaking of heads. None had seen the pretty blueeyed girl walk from the ferry. Cranston

knew why. The girl was still aboard. She was hidden in Cranston's own car, by chance!

The Shadow had witnessed with his own eyes the girl's clever fadeout. He had watched her sneak nimbly

inside the trunk at the rear of his car, while he loitered near the dark entry of the vehicle alley. That was why

he had paid no attention to the police when they had first leaped aboard the ferry.

He had no intention of allowing the police to find her. There was really no crime with which to charge her.

She'd pretend she had become hysterical with fright and had hid instinctively when she saw the police.

His sharp voice compelled attention. So did the direction of his rigidly pointing finger. He was standing in the

doorway of the women's cabin. It was the same deserted cabin through which the masher had fled when the

girl with the blue eyes had screamed. Cranston's finger was pointing at the paneled wall where the drinking

Water was running down the outside face of the wooden panel, to puddle on the floor.

Cardona stood on a bench and pried the panel loose. It came away suddenly, and with it a deluge of water that

The overflow of water was caused by something that had been crammed into the open top of the concealed

tank. Cardona's face went grim as he peered at a pair of shoes and two bent legs.

A man had been forced headfirst into the huge icewater receptacle behind the removable panel. His ankles

were cuffed together with steel links. So were his wrists. His face was a ghastly blue when his corpse was

THE motive for the drowning was grimly clear to Joe Cardona. The blueness of the dead man's forehead

couldn't hide the trident insignia that made a gruesome pattern on his wet skin.

Davy Jones had removed the last living threat to his hidden identity! Sailor Marco had carried his dangerous

But the way to The Shadow was not closed. Hidden in the rear of Cranston's expensive car was a living clue.

Cardona made no effort to detain Lamont Cranston. The sight of the drowned Marco had driven the thought

The limousine rumbled over the loose planks of the ferry exit. The noise covered a sibilant sound that issued

His uneasiness, however, was not noticeable to his pretty stenographer. She was used to receiving rapid,

As he dictated. Hollister stared out the window. His swanky office was on one of the upper floors of the

Maritime Building. From where he stood he could see the bright glitter of the Hudson River.

Hollister was a marine broker. He never seemed to work very hard. Yet in the few years he had been in New

York, he had amassed plenty of money. He was welcome in the best social circles of Manhattan.

Glancing swiftly at a clock, a frown twisted his brow. Hurriedly, he wound up his letter with a few deft

He got rid of his stenographer the moment he finished dictating. He suggested that since he was not very busy

this morning, it would be an excellent time for the girl to attend to some shopping she wanted to do. Elated,

Hollister gave a short laugh of relief. Striding to the window of his office, he craned his neck to stare

northward along the river front. His eyes seemed to peer toward the squat structure of a ferryhouse. The

The moment Hollister heard the jangle of his telephone bell, he scooped up the phone with hard eagerness.

The voice on the wire was harsh and wheezing, but the message was all that interested Hollister. The man

was calling from the ferryhouse which had drawn Hollister's gaze from the window a few moments earlier.

"Sailor Marco is dead," the man reported. "The cops tried to nab him when the ferry docked; but they got

there too late. They found Marco's body jammed in the water cooler in the women's cabin. Drowned! With a

Hollister's hand tightened on his receiver. He drew a deep breath. It was impossible to tell from his face

"Yes. I think you had better. There are a few things I don't want to discuss over the phone. Better make it

He hung up with a tense gesture. Smiling again, he began to think about Edith Turner.

Edith Turner was Hollister's fiancee. She was not yet wearing his engagement ring, but the marriage was

expected to take place soon. Her father, Ned Turner, was one of New York's most important theatrical men.

This morning, Hollister intended to get rid of Edith Turner as easily as he had gotten rid of his stenographer.

He made sure of it by examining and testing a telephone that stood on a smaller desk near his own. The

phone was a dummy. Its clipped wire ended in a closet. It had no connection with a central switchboard. The

bell box on the wall near the small desk was controlled by a device easily reached by Hollister's foot.

Sitting at his own desk, his hidden shoe pressed a button concealed under the rug. Instantly, the bell of the

But his smile faded as Edith failed to appear. Something had unaccountably detained her. The hands of the

clock were creeping perilously close to eleven, the time when Hollister had told the squeakyvoiced man to

HOLLISTER sprang up and took her in his arms. He kissed her with an ardor that made her gasp and relax.

But only for an instant. Her body stiffened and slid from his embrace. There was worry in Edith's lovely blue

In a tremulous voice, Edith said, "You let me in for a rather frightening adventure, when you advised me it

was better to park my car in Hoboken and come across on the ferry. I... I had to flee to avoid some rather

She told him shakily about the queer events that had occurred aboard the nineo'clock ferry.

"Very!" Hollister said. His voice was carefully casual. "First, you see a man watching you, who you think

looks like a criminal. Then another man insults you and disappears. Then the cops arrive, looking for the first

man who turns out to be crook named Sailor Marco. And you have to hide in the trunk of a gentleman's

His voice hardened. "Did you have any trouble getting away from his car without him seeing you'"

"It was easy. They drove to a parking lot. The man and his chauffeur walked away without examining the

trunk. No one saw me crawl out. But who is this Sailor Marco? And where could he have escaped when the

"Crooks like that are cunning fellows. He probably jumped ashore to one of the pilings. Let's forget about

A man had opened the office door, and had instantly recoiled at sight of the lovely blonde with whom

Hollister was talking. Although the door was still partly open, he had no time to retreat. Nor did Hollister

The stranger was a darkeyed, bonyfaced man, dressed in clothes a little too extreme in cut to be in good

taste. He glanced past Edith's alarmed face toward the clock on the office wall. The hands pointed to eleven.

Hollister knew what the man's shrug meant. Hollister himself had set the time for appointment. It wasn't his

"It's him!" Edith cried grimly: "The masher! The man who insulted me on the ferry!"

"What?" Hollister let himself become quickly angry. "Is that true, Bickel?" His head nodded an imperceptible

Bickel took the cue instantly. In a whining voice, he admitted the charge and began to apologize. Hollister cut

"That's enough! I've a good mind to smash that smirking face of yours! If it weren't for the unpleasant

"You're fired!" he told Bickel harshly. "I can't have men of your caliber working for me. Get out!

Over the girl's shoulder, unseen by her, his lips silently formed. "Eleven thirty" setting a new time for

"I'm sorry that an employee of mine insulted you," Hollister told Edith, gravely. "Unfortunately, I'm in a

waterfront business that requires me to hire men of the type of that rat I just fired. Being a marine broker has

"And now for something more important. We're going to take a taxi to the best jeweler in the city! I haven't

forgotten my promise to buy the finest engagement ring in Manhattan for the loveliest girl on earth! Excuse

Smilingly, he sat down at his desk. His pen moved busily over some printed forms, while his foot moved

When the phone on the other desk rang, he picked it up with an absentminded gesture. But his voice changed

"Sorry! It can't be done! I'm busy with some personal business right now... What?... I don't care a hoot! I'd

rather lose that entire cargo order, than disappoint my fiancee. I've promised her that we're going to buy an

Edith Turner's slim hand was on Hollister's. There was disappointment in her blue eyes, but her smile was

"Don't be silly, Roy! We can buy the ring later. I don't want you to lose one of your best customers. Really, I

He allowed her to persuade him. There was perspiration on his handsome face as he hung up the receiver. He

She left the office completely deceived. As she hurried down the corridor toward the elevator, she didn't

notice the old cleaning man who was busy with mop and pail a few feet away from Hollister's office door.

Lamont Cranston had not been fooled by Edith Turner's quick sneak from the parking lot. He had deliberately

made it easy for her. He divined exactly what she'd do. Instead of passing the shack at the entrance of the

parking lot, and risking running into Cranston, she had sneaked out the rear exit.

She wasn't worried by the seedylooking man who had stood across the street from the rear gate of the

parking lot. He had no resemblance to the polished and dapper Cranston. The only link between the two

personalities had been a brief hiss of sibilant laughter that issued from his lips as he stepped into a nearby

The rest had been child's play for The Shadow. He forced the lock of a cleaning closet and armed himself

with pail and mop. He witnessed the arrival and departure of Bickel. Substantially, all the conversation that

had taken place behind the partly open door of Roy Hollister's office had been heard by the keen ear of The

Shadow. And through the crack he had seen Hollister's lips phrase "Eleven thirty."

A less clever investigator would have followed Bickel. The Shadow, however, knew it was far more

While the girl waited for the elevator, he shambled slowly to the cleaning closet with his mop and pail. The

moment he was out of Edith's sight, a quick transformation took place. The soiled and wrinkled suit was

The moment she descended in the elevator, The Shadow darted noiselessly toward the push button at the

opposite shaft. Luck was with him. The car appeared after a brief delay. The Shadow was carried swiftly

EDITH TURNER was just leaving the building. She stepped out into the sunlight without a backward look.

She was more interested in locating a taxi, than in making sure she wasn't followed.

The Shadow's figure slowed as he passed through the lobby. He veered toward the newsstand, purchased a

paper, paying no attention to a keeneyed young man who was loitering nearby as though waiting for a

A telephone call had brought Vincent hurrying to the Maritime Building. The order he received was

impossible to disobey. It came from the unseen lips of Burbank, contact man in the secret organization

Having purchased his paper. The Shadow was slow to return his change to his pocket. He turned awkwardly

from the newsstand. So awkwardly, in fact, that he bumped into Vincent and stumbled. His handful of coins

Harry bent and helped to pick them up. The pressure of a firm hand closed on his as he returned the coins he

had recovered. So deftly was it done that the man behind the news counter was unaware that a folded slip of

The Shadow continued to the street. He was just in time to see Edith Turner step into the first of a row of

He waited until the cab curved out into traffic, then he hurried forward and took the second taxi. The flash of

Meanwhile. Harry Vincent wasted no time. Lighting a cigarette, he strolled slowly away from the newsstand,

letting his eyes drop toward his cupped palm as he walked toward the elevators. One glance at the note in his

palm was enough. He darted forward in time to enter the closing doorway of an elevator.

The floor he really intended to visit was twentyone. The note whose contents he had memorized in one

Roy Hollister. Suite 2109. Expects visitor named Bickel at 11:30. Want complete report. Use own judgment.

Vincent alighted at the nineteenth floor. The moment the elevator whisked out of sight, Harry turned on his

heel and darted rapidly to the fire stairs beyond the shaft. He climbed two stories higher, after making sure no

Few offices seemed to be rented on the twentyfirst floor. Most of the groundglass panes were blank. Suite

Gluing his ear to the door and hearing no sound within, Harry decided the office was empty. A quick twist of

Vincent decided to pick the lock. Hidden inside, he'd be able to spy more effectively on Roy Hollister and the

He was reaching in his pocket for a slim, sharppointed little implement, when he suddenly froze. His right

hand jerked empty from his pocket. He used his left to produce a pack of cigarettes, one of which he

The man who confronted him had come without sound or warning from Suite 2107, the adjoining office.

"I'm trying to find the Ajax Pump Co.," Vincent said. "They told me downstairs it was 2109. Or maybe I got

"You got it wrong," the man with the big ears said. "We're all marine brokers on this floor. Hollister ain't in

right now. Better ask the elevator operator about this Ajax Pump outfit. I ain't never heard of 'em."

With a nod. Harry started back toward the elevator shaft. As he did so, the man took a quick step behind him.

Something black and solid whizzed in a vicious arc toward the back of Vincent's skull.

Harry had no chance to dodge the blow. It landed with a sickening impact behind his ear. He dropped

His unconscious body had barely slumped to the floor when his assailant picked him up in a powerful grip.

Dragging the limp Vincent like a sack of grain, the man unlocked the dark door of 2107.

He pitched Harry headlong inside and followed him with a catlike bound. The door closed softly and was

LAMONT CRANSTON stood quietly outside the door of the apartment occupied by Ned Turner. The trail of

There was a smile on Cranston's lips as he gazed at an object he had taken from his pocket. It was a jeweled

cigarette case, engraved with Edith's name. In her eager haste to escape from her hiding place inside the trunk

of Cranston's car, Edith had dropped the cigarette case without noticing her loss.

The Shadow was going to use it as a passport to have a look at Edith and her famous theatrical father. He

wanted to study both at close range. He had a rather naive story ready to explain his possession of the

Cranston's interest in Ned Turner was not as yet based on any suspicion that the theatrical man was linked

with criminals. But there were two coincidences that puzzled him. One was the presence of Turner's daughter

on the ferry where Sailor Marco had been murdered. The second was a daringly nude dance act aboard

Ned Turner owned many theatrical enterprises. But the pride of his heart was the showboat he owned,

anchored a few miles up the Hudson. It was called the "Floating Follies." It attracted a swanky crowd every

night, to drink excellent liquor and watch a gorgeous girlandmusic show staged under the starlit sky.

The famous dance in that river show was performed by Flip Wiley, the most beautiful dancer on the stage.

Her costume was daring. It was little more than a fishnet brassiere and a green silk mermaids tail, flashing

with the green fire of imitation emeralds. "Davy Jones' locker!" That was the name of the dance.

It was Edith herself who opened the door. At sight of Cranston, she paled and recoiled. But she recovered

herself instantly. Cranston affected not to notice her repressed fright. He gave no indication that he had ever

In a courteous voice, he explained that he had come to do her a small favor. He didn't say what. But the

mention of his socially prominent name gave the girl no chance to refuse him entry. He was conducted to the

Turner was a big man, with white, wellkept hands. He was handsome except for his eyes. They were

Cranston calmly produced the cigarette case Edith Turner had dropped inside the trunk of his car. He had

found it, he said, lying on the parking lot, close to his running board. Evidently Edith had parked her car near

to his and had dropped the expensive bauble when she had backed her car out to drive away.

"Thank you," she said hurriedly. "It was silly of me to be so careless. I parked downtown to do a bit of

Evidently Edith was sure that Cranston hadn't recognized her on the ferryboat. She became more gracious.

She offered him a glass of wine. Cranston accepted. He did so, not because of the girl, but because of her

father. He saw dismay cloud the cold gray eyes of the theatrical man. Edith noticed her father's uneasiness

"As a matter of fact, I expect a visitor. An employee, rather. I didn't think Mr. Cranston would care to meet

"Pike? With a book? How amusing!" She explained gaily to Cranston. "Pike is an exmiddleweight prize

fighter. Dad uses him as a bouncer on the showboat. You know, sometimes college boys drink too much and

create a rumpus; then Pike goes into action. And now, it seems he's taken to reading books!"

NED TURNER joined in the amusement, but there was repressed rage in the man. He was doubly anxious to

But Cranston had no intention of being hurried out. He wanted to get a good look at the showboat bouncer

The apartment bell rang presently. Edith answered the summons. Cranston set down his glass slowly. Turner

His words broke off suddenly. His hard eyes veered toward the apartment entry. Evidently the caller was not

"Appointment, hell! I don't need any, baby! You tell your old man that Blue Chip Deegan is here to see him.

Turner took a quick step forward. But he was too late to intercept the caller. A man was advancing into the

Cranston knew who he was before he saw him. Blue Chip Deegan was a bigshot gambler. He operated

The gambler was so angry he didn't notice the quiet figure of Cranston over near the wall. He glared at

"I'm come for a straight answer from you, Ned. I'm tired of the old runaround! What are you going to do

Cranston had no chance to listen further. At a swift signal from Turner, his daughter ushered Cranston deftly

from the apartment. She was all smiles, as she thanked him again for returning the cigarette case.

As the door closed behind him, Cranston walked swiftly toward the elevator, but he didn't push the button.

Instead, he darted for the stairs that led to the roof. There was a brief case tucked away on one of the dark

He had made a careful preliminary survey of the building before he had rung Turner's bell. Now, he took

He intended to find out more about Blue Chip Deegan, and a bookloving exprizefighter named Pike.

Lamont Cranston did not emerge on the roof of the swanky apartment building. The figure that darted

noiselessly toward a rear cornice was shrouded in a black outfit that had come from the brief case. A robe

blurred the outline of his body. A slouch hat hid the piercing gleam of deepset eyes. Black gloves covered

The Shadow was going to pay a quick return visit to the Turner apartment in person!

A rope lowered the lithe figure of The Shadow to a jutting stone ornament outside one of Turner's windows.

The window was a narrow one that gave access to a pantry. It was unlocked. The Shadow had no difficulty

Unseen, The Shadow glided from the pantry to a dining room. He passed through a dim corridor that led to

Sounds from the living room indicated that a lively argument was in progress. Deegan's bull voice echoed.

Turner was trying to placate the gambler. The frightened voice of Edith shrilled occasionally.

Circling carefully. The Shadow entered a bedroom decorated in a pale blue. It was evidently Edith's. A

wideopen door led to a smaller chamber, that The Shadow saw instantly was the girl's dressing room. At one

end was the entrance to a tiled bath, decorated in pale blue like the bedroom. At the other was a closed door,

The Shadow was tiptoeing to listen behind this closed door, when abruptly he wheeled. He beat a hasty

retreat to a wardrobe closet. His movements were as swift as lightning; but so were the footsteps from the

The fact that Turner's gaze was twisted backward over his shoulder was all that saved The Shadow from

discovery. In another instant, his cloaked figure was invisible in the dark closet.

Turner was talking in a wheedling voice to his daughter. He was trying to persuade her to quit the living

Edith refused. The Shadow could see fright and stubbornness on her pretty face. Deegan was lounging almost

Turner strode back to confront the gambler. Their figures moved beyond the range of the crack in the closet

door. But The Shadow was able to see their reflections in the tilted surface of a huge goldframed mirror on

"You promised me the gambling concession aboard the Floating Follies," Deegan growled. "Now you're

Blue Chip laughed. "That's a bum excuse! Are you sure it isn't Pike who's back of all this sudden virtue?"

Deegan whirled suddenly. His sharp ears had heard someone attempting to sneak into the room behind him.

Deegan's pocket became rigid with the jut of a hidden gun, as he confronted the discomfited intruder.

"Hello, Pike! Howsa boy? I see you got a private key to this dump. By the way, who taught you to read

Pike's right hand let go of the blackjack he had started to slide from his bulky hip. In his left hand was a

It was Ned Turner, however, who took the book from Pike. He did so with a quick, suave gesture. He carried

it across to a bookcase and dropped it negligently on a shelf, shoving it back out of Deegan's sight.

"Not at all," Turner said. "There's no mystery about it. Pike likes the illustrations. That's why I loaned it to

Warily, Deegan sidled to the bookcase and withdrew the volume. He flipped it open with his free hand. A

baffled look came into his eyes. The book was a translation of a decadent French romance. It was illustrated

with rather daring scenes from the story. Deegan was completely fooled. But not The Shadow!

Watching from his hiding place in the wardrobe of Edith's dressing room, The Shadow had seen in the mirror

something which Deegan failed to notice. The book which the gambler picked up was not the one which

The thump with which Turner had dropped Pike's book had released a clever mechanism on the left side of a

narrow shelf. The left side depressed for an instant, allowing Pike's volume to slide into a secret groove in the

Turner made sure that Deegan didn't replace the fake volume. He took it with exaggerated courtesy from the

"I'm not trying to doublecross you. The only thing that worries me about giving you the gambling

"Controlling the cops is part of my business as a gambler. Do I come in or not?"

"I'll give you my answer tonight," Turner said. "Why not come out to the showboat as my guest and see the

THE SHADOW would have liked to have a look at the book which Turner had so cleverly hidden; but that

was out of the question. The Shadow's most important task was to quit the apartment without disclosing his

It was Edith Turner who unexpectedly blocked his retreat. She entered her dressing room before The Shadow

could glide from his precarious hiding place. To The Shadow's dismay, she began almost instantly to disrobe.

With a yawn, Edith shrugged gracefully out of her gown and removed her slip. Almost unclad, she reached a

bare arm into the partly opened closet and lifted her bathrobe from a hook, donned it.

The Shadow, by this time, was invisible behind the bulky shape of a garment bag. Edith donned her robe and

disappeared into the bathroom. The Shadow could hear water pouring into the tub. He slid quietly from his

Edith Turner emerged from the bathroom at almost the same instant. She screamed as she saw the

blackrobed intruder. Terror drove the hysterical girl to a pitch of reckless courage. With clawed fingers she

The Shadow had a choice of hurting, perhaps maiming the maddened girl or taking his chances with the

three then in the living room. Edith's shrill scream had warned them of peril. All three were racing toward the

There was intelligence behind this apparently foolish choice. Turner and his two companions would expect

the trapped intruder to be battling with Edith in a defensive effort to escape by the back way. The Shadow

His fist caught Pike squarely on the jaw, driving him against the other two. But Pike was like a rubber man.

He rebounded from the tangle on the floor. His blackjack whirled as he attempted to brain The Shadow.

The murderous blow whizzed above The Shadow's ducking skull. Stooping, he caught Pike in a double grip.

Pike's own weight added leverage to The Shadow's scientific heave. The man flew headlong over The

Shadow's crouching body. He struck the wall with a terrific impact, that dropped him in a quivering huddle to

Blue Chip Deegan fired from his pocket. The necessity of firing a blind shot at an onrushing target ruined his

Turner was excitedly jiggling the hook of a telephone in the living room. His shrill, terrified yell went over

There was no way The Shadow could halt the alarm. He had his hands full with the snarling gambler. Blue

Chip Deegan was not a big man, but he was as strong as a bull. He lost the fierce battle for possession of his

The Shadow fought desperately to rip Deegan's fingers from his agonized throat. His face was purplish when

he succeeded. A sudden writhe, the quick pressure of jujitsu, sent Deegan toppling with a yelp of agony.

The Shadow didn't have time to rise from the floor. He pivoted swiftly on his spine. His legs were doubled at

The Shadow's feet caught Turner in the pit of the stomach. Turner flew head over heels from the impact. He

THE SHADOW knew that police radio cars were already speeding to the apartment. Yet he used a few

seconds in a grim effort to find Pike's book that had been slid into a concealed recess in Turner's bookcase.

It was a vain effort. The shelf mechanism was locked. It would take too long to open it.

The Shadow contented himself with examining the duplicate book which Turner had allowed the duped

Turning, The Shadow fled. But not to the roof this time. He darted boldly out the front door of the apartment

and rang the elevator bell. He paused only long enough to retrieve the brief case he had left in a dark angle on

The elevator man gasped as he slid open his door and saw the ominous blackrobed figure that confronted

him. He was seized in a grip of steel and hauled from his car. The door of the elevator clanged shut.

By the time the swiftly dropping car reached the ground floor, the personality of The Shadow had vanished. It

was Lamont Cranston who opened the door and slipped out a side entrance of the apartment lobby.

A squad car had just whizzed around the corner from the avenue and was shrieking toward the entrance of the

The switchboard man had leaped from his desk and was staring out into the street alongside the puzzled

doorman. Neither saw the correctly garbed gentleman who retreated noiselessly down a side corridor.

The corridor led to the service stairs. The Shadow descended to the basement and left through the rear

A moment or two later, amidst the wail of onrushing police sirens, the sibilant laughter of The Shadow

Lamont Cranston had uncovered several personalities that interested him. He wanted to know more about a

young marine broker named Roy Hollister. He was puzzled by the tieup between Ned Turner and a mobster

named Pike, who couldn't read, but who liked books. The focal point between Pike and Turner was the

The Shadow decided that very soon he would take a trip up the Hudson and visit a performance of the

Meantime, he had a more urgent task. He had left Harry Vincent with an important job to perform! The

Shadow was anxious to learn about Hollister's eleventhirty appointment with a mysterious masher who had

WHEN he left the elevator at the twentieth floor of the Maritime Building, The Shadow loitered in the hall

until the passengers who got off with him vanished into various offices. He was still in the guise of Cranston.

Gliding quietly to the inclosed fire stairs beyond the elevator shafts, Cranston climbed noiselessly to the

twentyfirst floor. He had gotten off at the twentieth as a matter of precaution. He could hear no sound from

He knew that few people got off at this level. Most of the offices were untenanted. Harry Vincent, he divined,

had already made a deft entrance into Suite 2109. He was probably still spying on the suave young Mr.

Habitual caution made The Shadow peer quietly from the head of the stairs. He was genuinely startled to

Even from the distance where Cranston crouched, he was aware instantly of the girl's glamorous beauty; her

golden hair, her perfect figure. Her face was turned away from him. She was rattling the knob of Hollister's

The girl uttered an impatient oath that came oddly from her lovely red lips. Her head turned irresolutely and

Cranston saw her face. Again he had a cold shock of amazement. He recognized her.

It was Flip Wiley, the glamorous dancing star from Ned Turner's showboat. She was the mermaid who

danced with an actor impersonating a drowned sailor in the expensive underwater stage setting called "Davy

The Shadow had never heard Flip's name linked with that of Roy Hollister. But another name leaped instantly

into his brain: Blue Chip Deegan! Whispers about town coupled the dancer and the gambler in more than

The whir of the ascending elevator warned the girl. She straightened and began lazily to powder her nose.

Blur Chip Deegan stepped from the elevator. He walked down the corridor away from her. But the moment

"We've got a better racket than Hollister," Deegan growled. His eyes blazed with excitement. "I've just come

from Ned Turner's apartment. I rushed over here, hoping to sidetrack you before you wasted your time with

"I've got my fingers on Ned Turner's throat, baby! When I squeeze, you'll see a flood of dough pour out of

He leaned closer and whispered to Flip. His hand caressed her pliant figure. She paid no attention to the

The Shadow made no attempt to follow them. Ordinarily, he would have. He'd have given his right arm to

have heard what Blue Chip had whispered to his shapely girl friend. But anxiety was tugging at The Shadow.

He sensed disaster in the locked door of Suite 2109. Why had Hollister broken an important appointment

Vincent had failed. The sinister odor of death seemed to ooze faintly through the solid barrier of Hollister's

The Shadow sacrificed his opportunity to trail Deegan and Flip, in order to go to the immediate assistance of

an agent in peril. Harry Vincent and the rest of The Shadow's organization served him with courageous

HOLLISTER'S door opened easily under The Shadow's skilled fingers. Not a sound was made as the barrier

swung open and closed behind him. But there was no sign of Vincent or anyone else. The office was empty.

Every piece of furniture was in place. Not a single paper was disturbed on the desk. No struggle for life had

taken place in this richly furnished office. An inner door, however, suggested a different answer. Its

groundglass panel bore an ugly crack. Something padded had struck that glass on the inner side. The blow

had been strong enough to crack the heavy glass, but not strong enough to shatter it. Could Harry Vincent's

The Shadow picked the lock with swift skill. He advanced cautiously into Suite 2107, the one that adjoined

This room, too, was empty of people. But The Shadow's eyes narrowed as he noted the disordered appearance

of the chamber. A desperate fight had taken place here. Furniture was upset. A calendar had been ripped from

the wall by the clutch of clawing fingers. An overturned inkwell had left an ugly trail of black that dripped

The stain that made the jaws of The Shadow clench, however, was a different color. It was crimson!

It was almost hidden by the red pattern of the rug. But The Shadow's finger smeared when he touched it.

Fresh blood! Harry Vincent had been struck down after a gallant battle. He had lost that battle. His body,

The wall of Suite 2107 provided The Shadow with an immediate answer to the latter question. There were

two steel filing cabinets standing upright against a side wall. There should have been three! The Shadow

realized it at once. The wall beside the second cabinet was different from the rest of the smooth surface. It

was lighter in appearance, much cleaner. The outline of the missing steel cabinet was clearly evident.

Additional proof was provided by the four steel drawers hidden under a large desk: The drawers had been

removed to make room for Harry's limp body. Jammed inside the empty steel case, the open front

camouflaged shrewdly by his abductors, it would be a simple matter to carry Harry to the street by the freight

The Shadow, knowing the caliber of the agents who served him, looked to Harry himself for a clue. There

must have been grim discussion between the criminals, before the method of Vincent's disposal was decided

But did Vincent have time to leave a clue for the shrewd eyes of the man he knew would come to rescue him?

The Shadow found the hint he sought near the smear of fresh blood on the rug. It was hidden by the torn

calendar that had been ripped from the wall. The Shadow picked up a trampled package of Lucky Strike

The word "Strike" had been circled with a pencil mark. Above it was scrawled a hasty "10."

To Inspector Joe Cardona and his men, probably nothing. But to The Shadow it meant everything. The

solution was like a blinding ray of light. It was a link to Roy Hollister's marine brokerage business. It tied up

with the river pirates. But most sinister of all, it seemed to point to the murderous methods of Davy Jones.

Lamont Cranston left the Maritime Building with grim haste. He leaped into a taxicab and gave a lowtoned

The Shadow knew he was racing to save Harry Vincent from drowning. Harry was at the muddy threshold of

Two hardfaced men were entering the gloomy gateway of a Hudson River pier toward the tip of Manhattan.

They carried between them a steel filing cabinet, which they were transferring to the watchman's shack inside

One of Vincent's carriers was the watchman of the pier. The other was the gumchewing man who had

There was a strike in progress at the pier. This was the grim information Vincent had left for the eyes of The

The pier was next to the one where the river pirates had staged their raid on the Equator. The gate clanged

shut and was locked by the watchman. The body of Vincent was carried to the watchman's shack and dumped

Steps were disclosed, leading to the black water beneath the gloomy structure. Harry was carried down like a

A rowboat floated on the surface of the water, moored to a platform by a light rope. Neither the boat nor the

men were visible to observers beyond the pier, because of the squat shape of a derrick barge that lay in the

slip alongside like a monstrous shield. A barge on the other side offered similar protection.

Harry was dumped in the rowboat. The craft was leaky, half full of water. Weights were attached to Harry's

"You finish him!" the watchman growled to his gumchewing pal. "I'll sneak back and keep an eye out aloft.

The thug's hand dipped into the dirty water sloshing inside the rowboat, removed a plug. The boat began to

settle with a greasy gurgle. Its gunwales dipped closer to the black surface of the water.

The crooked watchman raced up the steps to the trapdoor. As he climbed through to the inclosed shack, he

saw a blackrobed figure dart silently toward him. The Shadow had used one of the derrick barges to gain

entrance to the pier. An almost suicidal leap had enabled him to reach his goal.

He sprang noiselessly at the crooked watchman. He was able to choke the man's cry of terror by the muscular

pressure of his lean fingers. But he couldn't prevent the swift withdrawal of the man's knife. It had a thin,

slender blade as sharp as a razor. It slid over The Shadow's straining shoulder and plunged toward his spine.

The Shadow twisted with a superhuman effort. His left hand released the killer's throat and clutched the hairy

wrist that held the knife. The plunging blade turned aside almost too late. The Shadow felt the burning prick

of the steel at his flesh. His cloak ripped in a jagged gash and the struggling watchman uttered a strangled

Below, the thug under the trapdoor heard that cry. It pierced the bubbling murmur of river water pouring over

the gunwales of the sinking rowboat. He sprang up the wooden steps to the aid of his pal.

Through the square opening of the trap, The Shadow caught a glimpse of the sinking boat. He saw the pale,

unconscious form of Harry Vincent. The boat slanted drunkenly beneath the surface of the black water,

As it faded from sight, the second thug came racing up the steps, a gun sliding from his hip pocket.

All this The Shadow witnessed in a brief, agonized instant. He had twisted the knife from the watchman's

grasp, but hairy fingers were twisting viciously on The Shadow's throat. The gun of the second thug was

The Shadow faced death from two ruthless killers. And Harry Vincent was drowning!

THE latter was all The Shadow thought of: Harry Vincent sliding through black water to the greasy embrace

Quickly, The Shadow's captured knife struck. The criminal watchman uttered a gurgling scream and

collapsed. His legs bent like rubber as the second thug sprang upward into the shack. He circled viciously, to

He had taken only a single catlike step when the limp body of the watchman came flying at him like an

unwieldy thunderbolt. The Shadow had hurled his victim bodily through the air. It struck the thug before he

could dodge. He went backward, falling partly through the open trapdoor. The wooden edge struck his gun

His weapon clattered down the wooden steps. It fell to the platform below, where the thug's propped

But the thug, though disarmed, was as dangerous as a tiger. His fingers closed viciously on The Shadow's

The Shadow's muscular heave of the hurt watchman had thrown himself off balance. He was unable to catch

himself. He struck the edge of the trapdoor opening and went through. Both men tumbled with a clatter down

But neither hesitated an instant. The Shadow kicked the gun from the slippery platform with a quick thrust of

his foot. It sank like a stone in the river. The thug clutched for the knife The Shadow had dropped in the

He might have lost that fight, had it not been for the sight of spreading black ripples of water under the light

from the electric torch. It was the fading mark of Harry Vincent's grave. Harry had been gone from sight for

Blood dripped from The Shadow's arm after the killer made a slash. The killer's slash had exposed his turning

body to assault. The Shadow, through sweatrimmed eyes, saw his opportunity and wrenched with all his

strength, obtained the knife. The knife jerked sideways, turned buried itself in the body of the thug.

The stabbing of the killer and The Shadow's dive overboard made almost one motion. His panting lungs were

almost empty of air from the exertions of two swift death struggles. But he used the very emptiness of his

His legs upended. His flailing arms pulled him deep into the black water, at an angle the sinking rowboat

His eyes were of no use. But his hands were. He could feel soft ooze sliding like grease between his clutching

fingers. They were the fingers of his empty left hand. In his right he still held the knife that had conquered his

Almost retching with the effort to keep his lips tightly compressed, he felt the rough outline of the sunken

rowboat. It was already deeply embedded in mud. The Shadow hung on grimly with his left hand. His right

drew the blade of the knife across the ropes that held the weights to Harry Vincent's legs.

IT was hard to rise with his limp burden. The Shadow's empty lungs were not buoyant enough to help much.

His dripping head broke the black surface beneath the pier. He drew a harsh, sobbing breath, caught an end of

the platform. In a moment, he was able to shove Harry Vincent upward to safety on the slippery planks. Then,

The Shadow worked desperately over Vincent. Harry's limp chest rose and fell under the pressure of artificial

When The Shadow was satisfied that Vincent was out of danger, he turned his attention to the two thugs he

Both thugs were dead. The Shadow weighted the corpses and allowed them to slide into the muddy river

To have done otherwise would have been fatal to The Shadow's campaign against a supercriminal. Discovery

of the dead mobsters by the police would fill the newspapers with more screaming headlines about the plague

of death that had struck the Hudson River. Davy Jones would suspect a powerful and secret foe.

That would not have suited The Shadow. His presence must remain unguessed until the time came for him to

There was grim flame in the depths of The Shadow's eyes as he led the weak figure of Harry Vincent toward

ANTHONY SAXON was holding a rehearsal for a new musical show on the bare stage of a Broadway

theater. He was literally surrounded by girls, everyone of them stunningly beautiful.

He grinned as one of them brushed him as she hurried past. Another man might have been acutely conscious

of the girl's contact, but not Anthony Saxon. He had only two passions in his life, outside of the shows he

directed. Jewels were one. Rare books the other. He collected both with the zeal of a miser.

An assistant was trying to catch Saxon's eye. But the producer ignored him until the dance number was

finished. Then he listened with a quick, friendly smile. A prince of a fellow, with rumpled gray hair, a

"Telephone call for you, sir," the assistant said. "A Mr. John Brody, calling from Brody's Bookshop."

Saxon sprang to his feet with a quick sound of pleasure. He waved a dismissal order to the girls lined up for

The telephone was in a dark corner of the wings. Saxon answered it eagerly. He always did when John Brody

Brody's voice was so lowpitched on the wire that it was barely audible. But Saxon caught every word

"I've got a brandnew shipment of books. Rare books, you understand? They're not quite ready for inspection

He replaced the receiver with a hand that trembled slightly. Joy swam into his eyes. It grew as he walked

back to the lighted stage. He had dealt with John Brody before. Wait an hour? He wasn't going to wait five

He flung up his hand suddenly, halting the confusion that buzzed everywhere on the stage. Then he dismissed

There was a squeal of delight from the weary chorines. They fled helterskelter from the stage. In a moment,

it was bare except for Saxon himself. The lights began to blink out. Saxon slid hurriedly into his coat and

IT was a dark, dreary sort of shop in a secondrate neighborhood. The aisles were dim booklined tunnels.

Pauline led Anthony Saxon to Brody's private office in the rear of the shop. All important customers were

Brody looked both startled and angry when he recognized his caller. But the look vanished almost instantly.

He was a squat, blond man with a semibald head that always perched itself slightly sideways, like a bird.

He cooled them inside Brody's luxurious rear office. The door that led to the shop in front was locked by the

bookseller. He told Pauline to notify anyone who asked for him that he was away from the shop on business.

He led Saxon to a comfortable chair and gave him a magazine and a cigar to occupy his attention.

Brody himself returned to his desk and busied himself with a sheaf of papers, which he began shuffling

His work was a bluff. From where he sat he could see, over Saxon's bent head, a gorgeous old Chinese lamp

stand behind the chair where the stage producer sat. Every inch of that stately lamp was more than a thousand

years old. That is, all except the light bulb that was screwed in a modern socket.

The bulb was green and very tiny. It was not lighted. John Brody watched it covertly while he pretended to

Suddenly, the green light glowed. Saxon didn't notice. It stayed lighted for possibly thirty seconds, then it

"I'll be back in a short time," he promised smilingly, "with something which I hope will excite you."

"You've never failed to do it yet, John," Saxon said. "Don't keep me in suspense too long, or I'll be a nervous

Brody unlocked a small door which was concealed behind a Persian tapestry. He stepped into utter darkness.

Thick carpet on a narrow, almost vertical flight of steps muffled his footfalls. He used no light to guide

himself downward through the pitchdarkness. He had gone up and down these secret stairs many times for

Another locked door gave the bookseller access to a lower chamber. The room was pitchdark like the stairs.

It seemed a queer spot in which to seek a book, rare or otherwise. There was only one bookcase in the room,

a cheap rack of unpainted maple that stood against the wall. Popular novels in brandnew paper jackets lined

The remainder of the room looked more like a research laboratory. There was a zinccovered table. A glass

cupboard contained bottles and jars of chemicals. In one corner was a sink and a shelf with a Bunsen burner.

And above another table was a strange shielded lamp, clamped vertically on the wall in almost the same

This, however, was not a camera. It was a lamp used for a special purpose, which the trained research

workers in the New York police crime laboratory would have recognized instantly.

Brody watched the cheap bookcase at the other end of the chamber. It opened suddenly, swinging on a pivot

without sound. A man entered, carrying a moroccobound book in one hand. The book was the one which

Pike had managed to deliver to Ned Turner without disclosing its real nature to the sullen eyes of Blue Chip

TURNER opened the hollow book and spilled its contents on the zinccovered table. Instantly, Brody gasped

They flamed like a cold bonfire, sparkling with all the jumbled colors of the rainbow. Sapphires and rubies

and amethysts. Diamonds of flawless cut. Rings and bracelets. Brooches. All of them priceless. And all of

This latter fact was the reason for the stealthy transfer of the jewels from Pike to Turner, to Brody.

Everyone of these sparkling beauties in their antique settings had been stolen from aristocratic country houses

in England. They had passed with lightning speed from the hands of the actual thieves to a grimy shop in

They went aboard the Equator in the keeping of a crooked steward. He was the same steward who had died in

the vicious battle aboard the Equator when Sailor Marco's mob had interfered with Pike and his blackfaced

Ned Turner was the American leader of an international jewel mob. His brains had figured out the whole

foolproof setup. It was a new wrinkle in jewel smuggling. Only the crooked steward knew where the loot

Nor would the purchasers provide a leak which might tip the police. Every customer of Brody's was a

collector, and collectors are proverbially secret with their prized possessions. For added safety, the stones

Instead of smuggling the loot ashore when the ship arrived, they were taken a day or so before she left port.

No customs inspection was made of departing ships. And the cheap merchandise stolen by Pike and his men

Over them hung the strange legend of Davy Jones. Pike had tried to find out who Davy Jones really was, but

had failed. He had discussed it only once with Brody and had been amazed at the reaction he got. Brody had

turned livid. He had pulled a gun on the startled Pike, warning him fiercely to keep his mouth shut.

Pike took talk like that from no man; but this time, he did! Something about Brody's rage made the hair crawl

Turner stared broodingly at Brody after they both had feasted their eyes on the rich loot from the Equator.

"We'll make him pay for his eagerness. Show him the diamond solitaire, he's a sucker for diamonds. Make

him pay a thousand dollars as a deposit, before we cut the stone. Tell him we'll have the new setting ready in

Ned Turner turned suddenly away from his smiling fence. He drew a sheet of paper from his pocket, carried it

to the unusual lamp clamped on the wall, and placed it flat on the table beneath the projector of the device.

A flick of his hand made the lamp glow with a queer greenishpurplish radiance. It bathed the paper with

unearthly fire. Every mark of ink on that paper, every fiber of the material, was relentlessly exposed.

It was a list of the jewels smuggled from England. Ned Turner was testing the list with the lamp. Any erasure

or change in that list would have been immediately noticeable. Invisible ink would have leaped into startling

Turner didn't suspect Pike of any doublecrossing. But he wasn't taking any chances of Pike's crooked

behavior while the loot was in his custody between the raided ship and Turner's apartment. It was this kind of

AFTER some more swift talk between the two men, Turner left the hidden chamber below the bookshop. He

vanished in the same manner by which he had entered. The cheap maple bookcase at the wall pivoted shut

behind him. He hurried through a passage that was black and invisible even to his eyesight.

But Ned Turner knew every winding inch of that passage. He followed it noiselessly to its other end. Having

turned many sharp corners in the narrow, closesmelling darkness, he opened another door. Steps led upward

Turner emerged from a closet in the wall. He was in an empty, poorly furnished room. Every other room in

that brownstone house was also empty except for the basement where the caretaker lived. The empty house

was supposed to be for sale. But Ned Turner had made the price purposely high so as to discourage buyers.

When Ned Turner stepped to the sidewalk, he was on a side street, around the corner from the bookstore. He

A sedan was parked near the bookshop. Two people a man and a woman were watching the entrance

Neither of them saw the cautious figure of Turner. He turned back, the instant he was aware of what was

going on. With a sly grin, he retraced his steps swiftly to the brownstone house on the side street.

As he descended the steep narrow steps built within the thick wall of the house, a sly grin deepened on his

JOHN BRODY was staring smilingly at Anthony Saxon. Brody had returned from the secret underground

chamber to his luxuriously furnished office in the rear of the bookshop. He was smiling at the almost

A diamond ring lay in the tremulous palm of the theatrical producer. The ring itself was not particularly

attractive. It was of oldfashioned yellow gold, and the setting was big and ugly. The setting had been

It was the diamond that brought the quick gasp of pleasure to Saxon's lips. The solitaire was a perfect and

flawless stone. In all his years of secret collecting, Anthony Saxon had never seen one to equal it in size or

"Do I like it?" Saxon gasped. "How much, I won't quibble. I've brought my check book along for a quick

"We won't argue about the price," Brody said. "That will come later. The deposit on this particular stone will

Saxon didn't bat an eye. He took out a check book and wrote a draft for the stated sum.

"The money will be credited to your account on the purchase of a rare folio edition of Shakespeare in case

He took the gorgeous solitaire diamond from the palm of the theatrical producer. Saxon let go of it

"Naturally, it will take a little time to change the setting and alter the stone itself," Brody said, smoothly.

"You needn't worry about any damage to the diamond. It will be the same flawless beauty you're looking at

now. The time will be about ten days. You will be notified in the usual way, when to come and get it."

Brody had turned slightly away from Saxon. His glance was riveted on the Chinese lamp in the corner of his

It winked out almost instantly. Sweat beaded Brody's forehead as he realized what the signal meant: Ned

Turner was racing back through the underground passage to the room where the jewels were hidden.

Making a suave excuse to the puzzled Saxon, the bookseller left his office by the exit behind the Persian

The laboratory was empty. The jewels were still in sight in the hollow Moroccobound book on the zinc

He waited for Turner. A minute passed, then another, with no sigh of the showboat owner.

A quick chill of fear swept Brody. He drew a gun and tiptoed swiftly to the maple bookcase against the wall.

The passage beyond was pitchdark. Listening intently, his gun ready for action. John Brody could detect no

Out of that blackness something sprang with horrible silence. Brody screamed as the plunging body struck

him and sent him reeling backward. A hand had touched him. It was icy cold. It was like the wet hand of a

Brody fired and missed. His backward stumble had ruined his aim. He found himself reeling toward the

zinccovered table where the jewels lay. Both his hands flung outward to save himself from cracking his

In the bright light of the laboratory, his assailant was clearly visible a thing of raw horror.

It was dressed in a seagreen smock and trousers that clung damp and soggy to its body. Wet hair hung in

The forehead of that ghastly thing was what had drawn the terrified scream from Brody's throat as he cringed

backward. A seal was printed on the moist forehead in the crimson hue of fresh blood: a trident.

THE terrifying attack of the watery creature had sent John Brody reeling against the hard edge of the zinc

Davy Jones rounded the table, kicked the gun across the smooth floor of the laboratory. Brody was utterly

defenseless from the clutch of those greenhued fingers. Instinct provided him with a chance weapon. Behind

him was a low shelf filled with chemical bottles. Brody's despairing fingers closed spasmodically on a bottle

The upthrown arm of Davy Jones protected his corpselike face from the glass missile. The bottle struck his

wrist, spilling the deep stain of cobaltblue all over his palm. Color dripped from the wraith's fingers as they

Brody crashed to the floor. The stained fingers on his throat pressed tighter and tighter. Brody's tongue

protruded. The fear of death was in his glazed eyes. Presently, his twitching feet ceased their spasmodic

Davy Jones didn't use the extra seconds it would have taken to kill Brody. He was gambling on time and

He sprang toward the zinc table where the hollow book lay. The stolen jewels were like flashing sunlight

within that opened book. Every item was there, even the solitaire diamond which Brody had replaced after

Davy Jones closed the book and fled with his loot. The dark tunnel swallowed his ghastly figure. He didn't

THE dark mouth of the tunnel was the first thing that John Brody's opening eyes saw, as he drifted painfully

back to consciousness. He blinked stupidly. His hand instinctively clutched his bruised and aching throat.

He saw that the moroccobound book was missing. The entire hoard of jewels stolen from the Equator was

Brody was no coward. Superstitious horror left him. He realized that the thief was a man of flesh and blood

like himself. An ugly suspicion as to the real identity of Davy Jones began to stir like a coiled snake in the

Darting to his dropped gun, he scooped it up and raced through the tunnel. The blackness was no impediment

Before he had raced twenty yards through the winding passage, he tripped over the prone body of a man!

Brody swung his clubbed gun. A feeble cry stayed the murderous blow. It was a voice that Brody recognized.

He struck a hasty match. Ned Turner was disclosed, swaying weakly to his feet. Blood dripped from a ragged

gash across his scalp. He tried to talk and failed. Brody threw a supporting arm around his chief and helped

A swift gulp of liquor loosened Turner's paralyzed tongue. His story was grimly brief. He told how he had

seen Blue Chip Deegan and Flip Wiley watching the front entrance of the bookshop. He had raced back

Midway through the tunnel, he had heard the soft patter of feet behind him. He tried to turn; too late. A blow

It sounded true. But suspicion was still snakelike in Brody's brain. He remembered the bottle of blue dye that

had splashed over the palm of his specterlike assailant. He glanced at Turner's hands.

Brody's gun pointed instantly at Ned Turner's heart. He suspected that Turner had pulled a fake hijack, in

order to avoid paying Brody his juicy cut of the profits to which, as a fence, he was entitled. He accused

Turner looked astounded. He stared at Brody as if the bookseller had gone suddenly insane.

"You're mad! How in hell could I be Davy Jones? He's just a name we've used a myth! The threat of his

vengeance was all we ever needed. Somebody is using our own murder creation to doublecross us!"

But there was a queer expression in the sly depths of Ned Turner's eyes. His quick explanation didn't

Turner obeyed slowly. There was a hint of triumph in his eyes. Amusement, too. His bared hands were clean.

Brody lost his truculence. His weapon sagged. Turner took instant command of the situation. In a few rapid

words, he told the dazed bookseller what to do. Turning, he darted through the tunnel. John Brody hurried

Saxon looked startled at the pale, rumpled appearance of the bookseller. Brody tried to cover it with a phony

explanation, but it was impossible to fool Saxon. Brody finally admitted that he had had some trouble with an

He withheld the news of the jewel theft. But he expressed frightened concern for the safety of Pauline, the

Unlocking his office door, he entered the shop, followed by the puzzled Saxon. The sidewalk door of the

shop was locked. The shade was partly drawn on the glass pastel of the door. It made the poorly lighted

Brody found Pauline lying in a corner behind a seldomvisited stack of books. She revived slowly.

PAULINE described what had happened. The woman, a stunning brunette, had entered the shop and asked

for a book on philosophy. It was a volume seldom called for. Pauline led the customer to the stack in the far

The woman had sprung like a tigress behind the slowwitted clerk and had choked her into unconsciousness.

But her description of the beautiful brunette made Brody's eyes narrow. Could it be Flip Wiley? A black wig

would easily disguise her honeyblond hair. Had she and Deegan engineered the clever raid?

That thought had barely entered Brody's mind when a brisk tapping sounded at the locked sidewalk door. One

look at the peering face below the gap in the halfdrawn shade on the glass panel, and Brody gulped.

He stared coolly at Saxon and Pauline. He noted the livid marks on the girl's throat or pretended to see them

"What brings you here at this exact moment, Mr. Deegan?" Brody asked him in a low, dangerous murmur.

"I came to see Ned Turner. I've just come from his apartment. They told me he had left for the bookstore to

Deegan's body stiffened at the challenge. But he relaxed instantly as he saw the gun slide from Brody's

"Take it easy with that rod. Whatever you're worried about, you got the wrong guy."

Anthony Saxon had backed up with a gasp of alarm at the sudden gunplay. He started to utter a dismayed

protest, but before he could speak, a shadow darkened the glass door of the shop. Another man entered.

He showed no surprise at the tense tableau into which he had stepped. There was taut menace back of his

Brody chuckled with a horrible sound. His finger was taut on the trigger of his pointed gun. He had stepped

Saxon gulped. He said nervously, as if humoring a madman: "Why, certainly, Mr. Brody."

Deegan stood very still. "I don't get this funny business," he said. Then he peeled the gloves from his supple

Deegan laughed. But Brody didn't, nor did Turner. Incredulous amazement made their jaws gape open.

Deegan's palms were as clean as Anthony Saxon's. Not a trace of the disfiguring blue dye was visible on the

A despairing thought stabbed Brody's brain. Deegan was innocent. So was Anthony Saxon. So was Ned

Turner. Who, then, was that dreadful apparition with the seal of blood on its ghastly forehead? Who was

"Glad to have given you boys a little harmless amusement. I'll be leaving now. See you tonight, Ned, aboard

Deegan was smart enough to be entirely certain that he wasn't followed, before he turned a corner a few

blocks away from the bookstore. He stepped to a parked sedan. The car started instantly.

The driver of the car was Flip Wiley. If she had recently worn a black wig, it was gone now. Her hair was a

Flip shortly parked the car at the curb of an unfrequented street before she uttered a word. Then she was

Suddenly, she laughed. It was a tinkling sound like the giggle of a highschool girl. But there was little mirth

Deegan grinned. His arm lay loosely on the back of the seat behind Flip. He slid it around the soft, ungirdled

waist of the girl. Slowly very slowly Deegan turned Flip's face toward his as he drew her closer. He

Flip's eyes closed. Her body relaxed in the gambler's embrace. Her hat fell off, but she never noticed. When

BACK in Brody's Bookshop, two men were leaving in awkward silence. Anthony Saxon and Ned Turner

Turner had given no explanation for the peculiar events that had taken place. Nor did Saxon ask for

particulars. Turner's expression was not one to encourage a discussion of what had happened.

"Can I give you a lift home, Ned?" Saxon asked, quietly. "My car is parked nearby. I'll be only too glad to "

Turner's sardonic smile deepened. He turned a corner and vanished in a crowd of hurrying pedestrians. Saxon

Into that slight glare came a pair of hands. The palms and the inside of the fingers were stained with the

Cold laughter came from the unseen figure. He peeled the skin from his hands. But no raw, red flesh was

disclosed beneath. The surface which had been peeled away was an outer, artificial covering. It was made of

The strange covering had performed a double purpose in concealing the identity of a master criminal. It had

enabled him to fool John Brody. It had also effectively concealed the fingerprints of the unknown hijacker.

The flame of a match sent a quick leap of fire racing across the paperthin coverings. They melted into swift

An opened book moved slowly into the spot of light. It was crammed with jewels. The haul was a hundred

Suddenly, the light in the room went out. Darkness filled the closed, windowless chamber.

LAMONT CRANSTON sat in a swanky motorboat that was cutting a path across the black silence of the

upper Hudson River, a few miles above New York City. He was one of a half dozen other passengers. The

boat was under the guidance of two smartly uniformed sailors in whiteandgold jackets.

The boat operated between a small jetty on the shore and the famous showboat anchored far out in the river.

The showboat itself was still almost invisible, a vague blot on the dark water. But its electric sign, in huge

It was an old sailing vessel, a brigantine, that had been converted into a popular night spot. The aft deck had

been turned into an openair theater for people who didn't mind paying high prices to see a colorful

Lamont Cranston climbed the landing stairs to the deck. By shrewd use of his social prestige. The Shadow

had wangled a personal invitation from Turner. Turner liked to have celebrities like Cranston at his table. It

Pike, who surveyed most of the arriving guests, was standing at the head of the landing stairs. Cranston saw

Just then a girl very beautiful in an evening gown like frothy silver came over. It was Ned Turner's daughter,

At one end, a small stage was hidden by a lowered curtain. At the other, an orchestra was playing dance

music. Couples were whirling expertly on the dance floor, most of the women noticeably younger than their

"Dad will be along presently," Edith said. Her smile seemed forced and nervous. "He's usually busy before a

Cranston saw that the table was set for four. But he made no comment about the extra chair. He let his polite

"Mr. Hollister is going to be with us tonight. Roy Hollister. Perhaps you know him?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," Cranston said. "If you don't object, I'd like the more immediate pleasure of

As they danced. The Shadow let his gaze wander, in order to watch the people about the deck and observe

He saw Roy Hollister before the girl did. Hollister appeared from below deck, presumably from the bar. But

there was no blur of liquor in his eyes. They were clear and alert. They hardened at sight of Edith's partner.

The moment the dance music stopped, Hollister stepped swiftly behind the girl and gently pinched the lobe of

She introduced the two men. Cranston was conscious of alert eyes boring into him.

"I've heard of you," Hollister murmured. There was a cool irony in his voice. "You shoot tigers and things,

THE music began again. Hollister danced with Edith. Doubtless, he was pumping her about Cranston's

presence on the showboat. Or perhaps, Edith was volunteering swift information to her escort.

Cranston drifted from the dance floor. He made his way quietly toward the bow of the showboat, where

things seemed to be darker. To get there, he had to pass the steps that led upward from the landing stage.

Screened by a projection of the deck, he watched a quietvoiced altercation that was going on between the

scowling Pike and a new arrival. One look at the newcomer's face made The Shadow's heart quicken.

Pike had backed the nervy gambler into a dark corner but it was Pike who was trapped! Deegan's hand was

invisible in his pocket. A corner of the pocket jutted ominously. Deegan was enjoying himself.

"That's twice I've caught you with your nose running, and no handkerchief!" He grinned at the glaring

bouncer. "I did it this morning in Turner's apartment. Remember, sucker? You'll always be a sap for a pocket

Pike's face flamed. He began to lean forward slightly. Anything could happen now. The sudden arrival of

"You fool! I told Deegan to come here tonight. What the hell's the matter with you? Coked up or something?"

"I don't like the smell of things," Pike muttered defiantly. "I got a trouble hunch."

Deegan laughed briefly. "That hunch may come true if I don't get the gambling concession on this sucker

"I haven't forgotten," Turner said. His voice was like silk. "If you'll come forward, we'll go into conference

A nod sent Pike ahead, walking a step or two in advance of the others. It was grim mobster politeness on the

part of Turner. He was giving Deegan the opportunity to shoot down Pike from the rear, if he saw anything

"Thanks," he said dryly. "It's a pleasure to deal with guys that know the rules."

The stairs led to an open foyer, beyond which was the bar. Men and women in evening dress were perched on

high stools drinking expensive liquor. A trio of girl entertainers dressed as Hawaiians, were playing steel

There was no sign of Turner and his two companions. Nor did Cranston expect to see them. He had noted a

door at the opposite side of the passage. A muscularlooking sailor stood before the door.

The Shadow waited. The guard at the door was craning his neck hopefully toward the bartender. Presently, a

wink passed between the two. The guard slipped across the corridor and hurried to the bar for a free drink. In

He was in a narrow, dimly lighted passage that led toward the fo'c's'le of the showboat. No patrons were

allowed here; the cabins were private. Moving noiselessly, Cranston soon located the cabin he was seeking.

Cranston sped swiftly to the far end of the corridor. Stairs led aloft to the dark bow deck. Cranston knew now

that Turner's cabin was on the starboard side of the ship, the unlighted side that faced the Palisades of New

Squirming past piles of gear and coiled rope, The Shadow slid cautiously over the bulwark and lowered

himself to the outside hull of the ship, using the thick chain of the sunken anchor as a lifeline.

His goal was a narrow ledge of creosotesmeared timber that ran the length of the black hull. It provided a

THE figure that moved gingerly along that dangerous twoinch ledge was no longer Lamont Cranston. The

black robe of The Shadow covered his welltailored clothing. His hands were gloved. His piercing eyes were

This disguise had come from an innocentlooking brief case carried aboard the showboat by Lamont

Cranston; as if he had come directly to the showboat from a business conference.

The porthole of Turner's cabin had been partly swung open. The Shadow could see and hear everything that

For the first time, he was aware of the real motive of the bloody raid aboard the Equator. He learned that

priceless gems had been stolen from the liner. More than that, Turner's vicious growl told him that the gems

Turner coolly accused Deegan of being the smart bookshop thief. Deegan laughed. He replied, not to Turner,

"Don't let me worry you, Pike. But my guess is that you and Brody are the suckers in this game. Why the hell

should I want the gems? My business is gambling. I can make all I want from roulette. My bet is that Ned

Turner pulled the stunt to doublecross a dumb gunslinger named Pike and a greedy fence named John

"Nuts!" Pike growled. But he looked uneasy as he studied the face of his suave employer.

"Let's get back to my business. What about selling me the gambling concession to fleece some of those

Turner's face was flushed. He hedged. He promised Deegan he'd give him a definite answer after the stage

performance was over. The whole thing was done so neatly that, without committing himself, Turner

The moment they were alone, Turner's whole manner toward Pike changed. He leaned closer, his voice so

He told Pike the real reason for his velvet handling of Deegan. A new gem theft was to be pulled this very

"I had expected to wait another week for things to quiet down," Turner said, "but something has happened to

force our hand. The ship with the stuff concealed aboard is leaving port sooner than I expected. She's sailing

"Because she secured her cargo sooner than the line officials expected. Some kind of a quick deal was made

"I'm talking about Roy Hollister! I got some straight dope on him only this afternoon. Hollister and a couple

of river rats have been snooping around the Silver Knave for the past two days!"

"He does fit," Pike replied, quickly. "All those guys in the bookstore had clean hands, didn't they? Saxon.

And Deegan. You, too, if it comes to that! Yet Davy Jones had blue dye splashed all over his hands. He

couldn't have washed it off. Suppose Hollister had snooped around the bookshop and had found out that the

OUTSIDE the partly opened porthole, The Shadow quivered suddenly as if he had been shot.

For an instant, blinding white light bathed him in daylight brilliance. The light threw an accurate silhouette of

his listening head through the porthole. It showed like a vivid black picture on the inner wall of the cabin.

The light came from the searchlight of a Hudson River night boat moving up the river toward Albany. Pike

yelled with alarm. He darted toward the porthole the moment he recovered from his amazement.

His stunned hesitation gave The Shadow his opportunity. The searchlight had shifted toward the opposite

Pike's face peered into the night. A gun gleamed in his rigid hand. He saw nothing.

The Shadow was only a foot or so above the black surface of the river. He had slid swiftly down the taut

anchor chain. He hung with arms and legs coiled about it. His face was turned downward. Protected by his

black cloak and the gloves that covered his hands, he was invisible to the lightblinded eyes of Pike.

But the searchlight beam of the night liner was racing playfully back and forth over the showboat. If it swept

across the motionless body of The Shadow, he would be revealed like a spider hanging on the end of a thread.

The white beam flicked aside at almost the last moment. It jerked clear of the invisible anchor line and

focused on the hull of the showboat. It leaped from porthole to porthole, halting motionless as it picked out of

Minute after minute passed in pitchdarkness. The Shadow used the delay to let strength flood back into his

aching muscles. Then he began the difficult task of climbing up the slippery links of the chain.

It was greasy, ticklish work. He had to avoid making the least bit of noise. His gloved hand slipped. Wildly,

FLIP WILEY eyed herself in the tall dressingroom mirror with complacent satisfaction. She leaned

Flip's creamy skin had been tinted a pale seagreen hue. There was seaweed tangled in her golden hair. The

hair had been combed out loosely. When she danced on the stage in an artificial undersea setting, her hair

would stream smoothly behind her as if floating under water. Actually, hidden electric fans would do the

The costume that Flip wore was a daring one. She had a fishnet brassiere. A girdle of clamshell beads,

A green fishtail, blazing with imitation emerald, concealed her limbs. A clever opening in it permitted her to

Turning from the mirror, Flip swayed silently into a brief practice dance. She looked like a mermaid

A cautious rap on the door of her dressing room halted her brief dance. She straightened rigidly. Her eyes

The cautious knocks were repeated in a signal Flip knew. Ordinarily, she was not afraid of the man whom

she was aware stood outside in the dark corridor. Tonight, however, she was uneasy.

She dared not refuse to answer the summons. Picking up a silken dressing gown, she clutched its folds hastily

together over her skimpy costume. She unlocked the door and a man glided quietly and swiftly inside.

There was a smile on his handsome face, but he was obviously under a grim tension. The glazed smile made

Hollister look somewhat like a cautious banker advancing a loan to a depositor. His actions increased the

She counted them coolly. There were ten bills in the packet, each of onehundreddollar denomination.

"That makes it an even eleven hundred," he whispered. "The thousand bucks is what I already owe you for

past performances. The extra hundred is a bonus for the tip that enabled me to make arrangements for the

"Fair enough," Flip said softly. "I'm a gal who always needs dough. You're the sort of guy it's a pleasure to

She laid a caressing hand on Hollister's as she glided past him toward a locked cabinet. Hollister flushed, but

said nothing. Flip continued to the cabinet and locked up in one of the drawers the money she had received

"You better be careful about coming to see me," she breathed. "Blue Chip has been acting queer lately. I

"Yeah. But would Deegan believe that, if he saw you alone here with me I mean, in a costume like this?"

With a sultry look in her eyes, Flip allowed her silken robe to sway apart for an instant. Again, Hollister

There was jealous venom in Flip's sugary voice. Again, she swayed close to Hollister. This time, there was no

pretense of her feelings about him. For an instant, Hollister held her in a quick, passionate embrace. But his

anxiety was stronger than his emotion. He released her awkwardly and stepped back.

She halted with a gasp. Hollister's face paled. Someone was rapping gently on the locked cabin door!

THERE was dead silence inside the dressing room. Hollister looked desperately about him for a place to

escape. In the silence, Blue Chip Deegan's suspicious voice was dimly audible outside.

"Just a second, sweetie pie," she called quickly. "I'm getting ready for my act. Wait'll I find my robe."

Hollister was tiptoeing to a connecting door that gave access to an adjoining cabin. But Flip halted him with a

Her lips at his ear warned him that the door led to the dressing room occupied by her dancing partner the

She showed Hollister a curtained exit that led to the stage. Hollister nodded, and vanished discreetly.

Deegan was scowling with rage when he was finally admitted by the smiling Flip. He shoved away her

Flip's nimble brain groped desperately for a convincing alibi. But fate pulled her out of her dangerous spot.

There were sudden footsteps on the stage beyond the curtained exit. A man strode smilingly into the dressing

"Listen, Flip. About that change in the dance I suggested. I think Oh, hello, Deegan!"

The man was Anthony Saxon, the theatrical producer. It was Saxon who had conceived and staged the lovely

underwater ballet that had made Ned Turner's "Floating Follies" such a hit. He looked puzzled and alarmed at

Flip had dropped back a step or two. Her face was behind the shoulder of the angry gambler. She nodded a

"Sure, I was in here. We were talking about a change in Flip's dance routine. What about it?"

Saxon sensed danger, but he didn't know exactly what. He had backed up the dancer's lie because he didn't

know what else to do. He could see that Flip was terrified under the mask of her gay smile. He took her by

"Come out on the draped stage and I'll show you what I mean, Flip. In that first scene, where you rise slowly

Deegan made no effort to stop them as they vanished through the curtained exit. He looked tigerish as he

stood perfectly still in the empty dressing room. His cold eyes veered about him, froze as they noticed that the

Deegan dropped to his knees and lifted the slip cover. Hidden beneath the sofa, he found a man's hat which

Flip had kicked swiftly out of sight. Deegan's laughter was barely audible as he noted the initials in the

He placed the hat carefully back where he had found it. He didn't want Flip to realize that her scheme to

The veiled look in his eyes would have made Flip Wiley scream with horror, had she seen it. He turned and

WORKING with slow, methodical care, The Shadow inched himself higher and higher on the showboat's taut

anchor chain. The mishap that had almost tumbled him with a noisy splash into the dark river below was not

He was aware that a pirate raid was planned for tonight by the same thugs who had boarded the Equator. The

The Shadow intended to foil that raid and capture the conspirators. He planned to get quietly ashore from the

showboat and notify Joe Cardona. As always, The Shadow would remain in the background, merely making

He had reached the narrow wooden ledge that ran lengthwise along the black hull of the showboat. Above his

head stretched a few yards more of greasy anchor chain. But The Shadow remained where he was. His ears

Husky voices were talking beyond the dark bulwark. One of the voices sounded like Pike's. The Shadow

inched sideways along the slippery ledge, returning toward the porthole of Ned Turner's cabin.

The porthole was no longer open. Pike had snapped the glass cover into place and dogged it.

Farther amidships, considerably closer to the stern of the showboat, was an open porthole through which light

poured. The Shadow's feet were numb by the time he reached his new goal. But his eyes, rising beneath the

In another moment. The Shadow began to squirm head foremost through the opening. The portholes on the

old brigantine had been enlarged to permit added ventilation to the interior of the ship. Except for that, The

Once inside, he realized that he was in Flip Wiley's dressing room. A photograph of the dancer in her

mermaid costume drew The Shadow's calm gaze for only an instant. He began to glide toward the door that

He was passing a deep closet when his whole plan changed again. From the curtained doorway of the stage,

The Shadow heard voices. Flip was returning swiftly to her dressing room, accompanied by a man.

Their appearance cut off The Shadow from the corridor. He vanished into the closet, hid there behind hanging

By this time, Flip appeared in the room, followed by Anthony Saxon. The Shadow cautiously pushed aside

They were talking about the change in the dance routine which the stage producer had recommended. Flip

agreed with Saxon's suggestion. She turned toward the connecting door that led to the cabin of her dance

partner, to discuss the change with him. Saxon, however, took her by the arm, halting her. His voice was

"Why did you make me lie to Deegan a little while ago? Did you have a man hidden in here?"

"You're playing with fire, Flip! I know Deegan's type. He's a killer! Take my advice and be very careful how

"I've been handling men all my life. I'm not afraid of Blue Chip Deegan or anyone else. Come on! Let's

A MOMENT later, The Shadow slipped from the closet. Quietly, he let himself into the corridor and melted

Not long afterward, it was Cranston who appeared on deck and mingled with the customers. He had left the

outer shell of The Shadow behind him in a dark nook between decks, where no one but he could find it. He

"A Mr. Roy Hollister is extremely anxious to have a word with you, in private. He says it concerns a lady

who is in deep trouble. He requests that you see him for a moment before the show begins."

Cranston felt a quick surge of eagerness. He was certain that the lady in trouble was Flip Wiley. But why

should Hollister want to see Cranston? It seemed to indicate still another lady Edith Turner! Events must be

moving to a swift pitch of danger, if Edith was suggesting that Hollister confer with Lamont Cranston. It

Cranston stepped forward. As he did so, he gave a quick exclamation and tried to turn. The cabin into which

The next instant something struck viciously against Cranston's head. He tumbled forward across the doorsill.

WHEN The Shadow emerged from unconsciousness, the cabin in which he had been trapped was empty

except for himself. The dim light that burned in the ceiling showed no exits other than the locked door. The

cabin was an inside one, on a dark corridor that ran down the middle of the ship.

The Shadow was inclined to doubt Hollister had sent the message to trap him. Why should Hollister tip his

identity in so foolish a fashion especially if he was Davy Jones, as Pike seemed to think? Ned Turner

The inference was clear. Someone had suspicioned Cranston's presence aboard and had made grimly sure that

Peril pointed most definitely to the dancer, Flip Wiley. The Shadow knew she had placed herself in a

situation of frightful risk. He must aid her. His face was grim as he set himself to the task of picking the lock

It was not a difficulty task. His assailant had made no effort to search Cranston's limp body before he fled.

That was a mistake. A tiny pointed steel pick hidden within Cranston's clothes made short work of the lock.

The Shadow glided noiselessly down the dim corridor. No figure appeared to challenge him. He could hear

from the aft deck the pulsing music of an orchestra. It was the overture to the "Floating Follies."

He found his cloak and hat in the dark nook where he had secreted it. Soon, he crossed the staircase foyer and

glided past the bar without being observed. The bar was closed during the progress of the stage show.

The music of the overture sounded louder as The Shadow cautiously tried the knob of Flip's dressingroom

Cautious pressure allowed The Shadow a quick glimpse into the room. What he saw brought a piercing gleam

to his eyes. He stepped lightly inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

Her body was twisted grotesquely, the head close to the marble base of a wash basin. Her dead face was a

mask of terror. Flip had fought fiercely for her life; that was pitifully clear. Her silken robe was torn. A bare

THE SHADOW stared at her hair, her face, her throat. There were ghastly bluish marks on her neck. They

Strangulation, however, had not killed the dancer. Her dripping wet face, the soaked tangle of her blond hair,

The Shadow stared at the wash basin. The rubber stopper was still in the drain. The basin filled with water.

The man who had choked Flip into silence had held her face under the water until she drowned!

The crime must have taken place only a few moments before The Shadow's arrival. The room was in much

disorder. The murderer had fled swiftly to prepare for the disposal of the corpse. The unlocked door of the

There was no disfiguring mark on it. Davy Jones had not had time to brand his victim with the seal of

The Shadow peered swiftly about the death chamber. Not an item in the disordered room escaped his

challenging scrutiny. A mirthless smile parted his lips briefly. Something he saw under the sofa tightened his

The Shadow's gloved hand reached to unlock the door. Suddenly, he froze. From the corridor outside, he

The Shadow unlocked the door in the same instant the disturbing knowledge flashed through his mind. He

didn't want the approaching criminals to suspect that a visitor had entered the death chamber in their absence.

Then The Shadow backed desperately across the room, seeking an avenue of escape. The stage exit was out,

for the show was on. So he left the cabin by the same unconventional method he had entered. His body

Again tiptoeing on the narrow, slippery ledge between the dark sky and the darker water of the Hudson, The

Shadow drew a soundless breath. His gloved hands clung to the outside hull of the ship. His cupped palms

and the pressure of his toes on the narrow ledge beneath his feet were all that kept him from plunging

Peering across the lower rim of the porthole, his face shielded by the black brim of his slouch hat, The

Pike pulled the rubber stopper out of the lavatory basin; the water ran down the drain. Then he began

Turner, meanwhile, was busy wrapping the gleaming body of Flip in the silken dressing gown which had

been nearly torn from her during her losing battle for life. From around his waist he uncoiled a long length of

The Shadow began to retreat along his dangerously narrow ledge. He interpreted correctly the purpose in the

minds of Pike and Turner. They were going to lower the dancer's body through the porthole. The Shadow

Behind his turned head, the music and singing from the showboat's stage made noisy rhythm. The Shadow

heard nothing from the muffled oars of a rowboat. But he saw it with a quick thud of his heart. It was coming

THE boat contained two of Pike's thugs. They saw the spreadeagled figure of The Shadow on the narrow

Guns lifted. Bullets whizzed toward The Shadow. But no sound accompanied the firing, except a faint

Slugs crashed into the wooden hull of the brigantine alongside The Shadow's head. One nipped his ear like

He risked a fall from his dizzy perch by swiftly withdrawing one of his cupped palms from the hull and

darting it underneath his cloak. When it withdrew, an automatic glittered dully in the darkness.

A quick gasp came from the open porthole behind The Shadow's head. Ned Turner was reaching outward

with a clubbed weapon in his muscular grip. He had heard the dull impact of bullets against the hull of the

His first blow was glancing and knocked off The Shadow's hat. Before The Shadow could turn without losing

his precarious balance, a second smash of the clubbed weapon landed with stunning impact against his skull.

He tumbled backward, turning over in midair like an awkward diver. He was too dazed to twist his falling

body into a vertical plunge. He struck the black waters of the Hudson on his stomach.

The rowboat darted to the black ripples where The Shadow's body had gone under. Except for the light

shining from Flip's cabin, the starboard side of the brigantine was totally dark.

In the rowboat, the thugs watched for The Shadow's dazed body to rise. A quick clutch at his dripping hair

and he was hauled quietly aboard. He lay in a puddle of river water under one of the thwarts. Tight cords

His wet scalp dripped blood, and he lay like a dead man. The rowboat maneuvered closer to the hull of the

The body of Flip Wiley appeared through the dark porthole. The light inside the cabin had gone out. The

corpse was lowered on a rope to The Shadow's captors. Turner and Pike followed the dancer's body down the

rope. The rowboat veered silently toward the black middle of the river, impelled by the cautious dips of

Another boat was waiting for it in the concealing darkness. This was a small motorboat. The two men in it

had corkblackened faces. The Shadow and the dead dancer were swiftly transferred. Pike went with them.

The goal of the motorboat was a shelving mud bank on the Jersey side of the river, covered with a thick

growth of reeds. A path wound through the mud to a spot invisible from either river or shore. No lights were

Flip's body was thrown callously down in the oozy mud; The Shadow was flung alongside her. Pike laughed

That was what Pike assumed. The truth, however, was different. The Shadow had recovered from his daze.

His closed eyes were a camouflage to save him from death. But his hands and feet were still tightly bound.

The small motorboat departed from the muddy islet. Its engine was throttled to a mere murmur. It vanished

INSTANTLY, The Shadow began to act. Squirming in his bonds, his fingers felt under his cloak, touched

steel. The touch satisfied him. He lay back again, knowing a hidden knife was there. He was not yet ready to

The Shadow waited for the return of Pike and his men, confident that this time they would appear in a fast,

His guess was correct. There were now three men with Pike, all of them disguised with burnt cork.

The Shadow permitted his limp body to be transferred to the speedboat. An ironic purpose was behind the

bold risk he was taking on his life. He was going, if possible, to make these crooks take him to the steamship

he knew they were planning to raid the Silver Knave. However, they didn't carry The Shadow very far

before the speedboat slowed. The river was very wide at this point. Darkness shrouded it from shore to shore.

Flip Wiley's body was dumped overboard. Farther down the river, the mermaid's costume they had stripped

from her body would be disposed of. The killers were taking no chances on quick identification of her body.

"Over with the louse!" Pike snarled jubilantly. "Give The Shadow a dose of Davy Jones' medicine, Turk!"

Turk fastened a rope under The Shadow's armpits. He was lowered over the stern. The speedboat shuddered

into quick speed. The line attached to The Shadow's body straightened with a jerk. He was towed swiftly

down the river like a sodden bundle under foaming black water. Pike and his coldgutted pals were callously

But The Shadow had other plans in mind. The long fingers of his bound wrists reached for the keenedged

knife, slashed it across his bonds. He tore out the gag. Another swift cut, and the rope that attached him to the

The mobsters discovered their loss instantly. Turk, at the boiling stern, shouted a shrill oath of warning. The

black craft turned in a quick circle of foam. It began to race back to the spot where The Shadow was

The beam of a flashlight cut the darkness like the bright spoke of a wheel. It centered on the dripping face of

The Shadow. His head lifted for an instant, as he tried to turn over and dive beneath the surface.

Pike fired. The flame of his gun made bright stabs of scarlet. But there was no echoing report; he was using a

He saw the black water kick into spray all around the face of The Shadow. A crimson spot appeared in the

With his mouth wide open in agony, The Shadow sank beneath the black surface of the river!

THE SHADOW'S mind worked grimly as he swam beneath the murky surface of the Hudson. He had tricked

Pike and his crew into thinking him dead. The bullet hole on his forehead he had simulated with a red stick of

Letting his nose break the surface, he took a deep breath; saw that Pike, thinking him dead, had gone on to

the Silver Knave to perpetrate his holdup. The Shadow must get there as quickly as possible.

It was a strange figure that hailed a cab a few minutes later and by the gleam of his piercing eyes alone cowed

Soon the cab was flying down the West Side Express Highway. The Silver Knave's pier was near where the

When the taxi finally pulled up to the desired dock. The Shadow leaped out. He knew the pier would be

Faced by the dripping figure of The Shadow, the watchman would undoubtedly open fire. To his startled

With a leap, The Shadow dove from the street into the waters of the slip on the opposite side of the pier from

He knew there was no way to get inside the locked pier except from the river end. A few strokes took him to

a piling, and he hauled himself up the slippery timber, studded with rusted spikes.

A narrow planked passage ran along the outside of the long covered structure. The Shadow darted at top

As he had anticipated, he had no trouble entering the pier from the river end. He raced under the shadow of

high, gloomy rafters to the watchman's shack, drew an automatic as he approached silently.

The watchman, however, made no movement. His eyes were closed. He was lying in a huddle on the floor.

Clever criminals had taken no chances on the watchman's hearing noises on the Silver Knave.

Leaping across the prostrate body, The Shadow grabbed the phone. It was his usual method to allow the

police the actual apprehension and capture of crooks, The Shadow remaining in the background. He was

The Shadow dropped the useless instrument. Sibilant laughter hissed from his lips as he darted through the

doorway of the shack. He darted across the pier toward the black hulk of the Silver Knave.

He could see the ship through the opening of one of the pier's huge freight gang ways. The heavy corrugated

metal door had been hoisted high on steel chains operated by electrical power. The freight gangplank between

ship and pier was still in place. Everything had been left in readiness for stevedores to complete a lastminute

He was still grimly determined to transmit a quick alarm to the harbor police at Pier A. He had a simple plan

Not a sound came from any part of the ship. The slow drip of water from The Shadow's soaked garments was

Suddenly, a faint bark halted The Shadow. It sounded like a deep, hollow cough from somewhere below

decks. The Shadow, however, was not deceived. He knew the sound was a pistol shot, muffled by the

Instantly, he altered his plan of warning the police in favor of a more immediate maneuver.

THE SHADOW knew that Pike and his henchman Turk had probably boarded the ship from a dangling rope

ladder, leaving the other two crooks to keep lookout in the speedboat. Somewhere below in the bowels of the

steamship, they had run into trouble! If The Shadow could bottle up their exit, he could trap two thugs, as

well as the cunning steward who was in league with them. It would give him a bold chance to battle with the

There would be time enough later to use his clever scheme to summon the harbor police.

Rounding a corner, The Shadow emerged on the starboard deck only to halt with a grim exclamation. He

saw the limp figure of Turk, lying unconscious. Trouble must have started on deck, for close inspection

The next instant, a dark head appeared over the railing of the ship. One of the lookouts had heard that muffled

shot from below and had climbed up the rope ladder to investigate. He yelled as he saw the crouched figure

That foolish shot sealed his fate. The Shadow had to protect himself. A stab of flame from The Shadow's

gloved hand sent the river pirate tumbling backward off the rope ladder. There was a noisy splash from the

river and a cry of alarm from the second lookout in the speedboat. Seizing a Tommy gun, the thug began to

The Shadow's veering eye saw the partly opened door that led to Section 3 of the ship's hold. He surmised

that this was where Pike and the treacherous steward had vanished, probably leaving Turk to keep watch on

As he did so he threw himself flat to the deck. Behind him sounded the grim stuttering of a Tommy gun. But

the slugs ripped harmlessly over the prone Shadow and flattened themselves against the steel surface of the

The Shadow retreated with a headlong dive toward a break in the ship's superstructure. It was a narrow

He reached it just as a hail of bullets came from a spot farther aft. Two men had appeared from another exit in

the hold. One of them was Pike. The other was the hatchetlike countenance of the crooked steward.

When they had gone below to get the gems the steward had secreted in the hold, they had been attacked by a

crew member, whom the steward had thought ashore with the rest of the crew. The crew member had choked

Turk into unconsciousness when attacked by him, then had gone to the hold to investigate. There, Pike shot

The foxy steward had heard the metallic clang as The Shadow slammed and bolted No. 3 door. He had

realized instantly that someone aloft was trying to trap him and Pike. With Pike racing noiselessly at his

Their sudden appearance placed The Shadow between two streams of lead. He darted through the narrow

passage that led to the port deck. After him came Pike and the steward. The thug with the Tommy gun raced

forward in an effort to head off The Shadow. That was a mistake. He found himself forced forward almost

The Shadow, meanwhile, was racing for the steps that led aloft to the bridge. Reaching them, he turned and

flung himself flat. His gunfire sent Pike and the steward scuttling backward out of sight.

Pike had recognized the black figure of The Shadow. He knew now that The Shadow had escaped death from

bullets and drowning in the upper reaches of the Hudson. He was burning with the lust to kill this grim

But the aim of The Shadow was dangerously accurate. A slug ripped the heel from Pike's shoe as he scuttled

behind cover. The steward was no help to Pike at all. Whimpering with fright, he was a hindrance. His

clawing hand on Pike's sleeve gave The Shadow the precious seconds he needed to climb to the bridge and

He did the thing he had intended to do ever since he had discovered the slashed telephone wire on the pier.

The roar of that deepthroated blast was like the thunderous shout of a giant. It reverberated through the

darkness of the silent water front. The Shadow kept it howling without a stop, by tying down the cord.

It made faint the stabbing reports of The Shadow's gun as he replied to the fire of Pike and the steward. From

the other side of the bridge came the vague pappappappap of the Tommy gun. Thick plate glass crashed

at The Shadow's elbow. A chunk struck him in the cheek, spilling a thin trickle of blood into his mouth.

SUDDENLY, The Shadow heard a shrill scream from the man with the Tommy gun. It was hardly audible

through the tumult of the roaring whistle. So was the blast of a police siren that echoed from the darkness of

The whistle had done the trick. Help was coming from ashore. From the water, too, judging from the alarmed

He leaped out of sight. Pike and the steward had vanished, too. Pursuing, The Shadow was just in time to see

Clawing at the rail in his eagerness to escape to the speedboat below, was the fleeing steward. His mouth was

wide open. Pike thrust the muzzle of his gun into those open jaws and pulled the trigger.

The Shadow was too far away to prevent the murder. Nor did his hasty shot save the life of the unconscious

Turk, who still lay motionless on the deck. Pike killed his henchman as swiftly as he had murdered the

He was taking no chances of a captured crook squealing to the cops. He went down the rope ladder in a trice.

The man with the Tommy gun followed his resolute leader. The Shadow raced toward the rail.

Before he reached it, the motor of the speedboat was roaring. Pike and the surviving thug were fleeing just in

time to escape detection from a police boat that was churning upstream under forced draft.

It was The Shadow that the police boat's searchlight outlined on the rail of the Silver Knave. His dripping

black figure drew a hail of police bullets. The cops made a natural blunder. They thought that the man at the

He had barely vanished across the spidery length of the ship's bridge when cops began to pour aboard the

liner. They swarmed up the rope ladder left by the thieves. Two of them reached the bridge and searched

Other cops raced across the cargo gangplank to the pier. They were equally mystified. They found the

drugged watchman still lying in his shack, but they found no trace of The Shadow. The strong metal gates

The answer was simple: He was still on the pier! From where he lay hidden, the darting figures of the

What The Shadow had done was to swing by a feat of muscular strength from the projecting edge of the

ship's bridge to a timberend of the pier's slanting roof. He hung, swaying for a perilous instant, then his

In the bewildering tangle of braces and supports, his goal was a square opening cut in the peak of the roof a

None of the excited cops far below him on the floor of the pier had sense enough to crane their necks aloft.

Even if they had, The Shadow was too high to be more than a slowly moving dot of blackness among the

He slid stealthily through the smoke vent. Straddling the peak of the roof, he approached the street end of the

A quick glance downward showed him that he was still in peril. The endless roaring of the Silver Knave's

whistle had drawn a crowd of spectators, nighthawk taxis, police cars. But The Shadow had to get to the

THE SHADOW went down the pipe hand over hand. A jutting angle of masonry protected him from the sight

of those in the street. The masonry was a bit of architectural swank, put there by the builders to hide the ugly

length of the drain pipe and keep it from spoiling the lovely facade of the pier entrance.

A few moments later, one of the many taxi drivers seemed confused and rattled. He kept his bare head

lowered over the wheel. But in spite of his confusion, he maneuvered the taxi with quick skill. It crossed

On the floor inside that cab was the huddled figure of a man. It was the real driver of the taxi. The dark figure

that had slid close to the cab from the side facing away from the pier had made no sound. The blow of the

pistol butt had been mercifully softened by the wrapped folds of a handkerchief.

As the victim crumpled, The Shadow shoved him inside the door he had already opened.

When The Shadow finally parked the cab and left it, he leaned for an instant over the quiet form of the man in

the rear. Something fluttered down into the slack hand of the unconscious hacker. It was still in his fingers

when he recovered his senses, a few minutes later. He took one look at the crinkly piece of paper and gasped.

THE SHADOW was in his sanctum a hidden room in an old building in the heart of New York City. This

silent and secret retreat was unknown to police and crooks alike. It was a place seemingly without entrance or

exit. Darkness shrouded it, except for the glow of a blue light that threw a pool of radiance on a polished

The calmly alert face of The Shadow was in profile above the desk. The light accentuated his beaked nose,

the deeply socketed eyes in which flame seemed to writhe like the leapings of cold fire. The sensitive fingers

The newspapers had plenty to say and to surmise about the murderous happenings the night before at the

The body of a crew member had been found, shot through the heart, in the cargo hold of the raided vessel.

Near the rail of the ship, the almost headless body of the steward had been discovered in a pool of blood.

It added horror to the mystery. The testimony of the police medical examiner showed that a bullet had been

fired through the man's open mouth. Mistakenly, the papers printed the treacherous steward's picture as a

hero. It was supposed that he had tried to stop the fleeing gang of river pirates and had been horribly slain as

The sibilant laughter of The Shadow sounded as he read further misleading accounts presented to the public

Two dead thugs of the Davy Jones gang had been found. One of them, identified as a crook named Turk, had

been shot through the heart, as the first mate had been. The other thug had died from a bullet through the

lungs. His body was floating in the slip water beside the Silver Knave. Neither would ever add a word to the

This one noted the finding of the unclothed body of Flip Wiley floating in the salt water of New York Harbor.

Summoned by the police to explain the coincidence of his "Davy Jones' locker" ballet and the fact that the

dead Turk had been employed as a waiter aboard his showboat, the wily Turner had visited the morgue and

He talked freely to the police. He dismissed the "Davy Jones' locker" act as pure coincidence. Why, he asked

suavely, should a man run the risk of drawing attention to himself by so foolish a name, if he were in any way

Turner said he had been about to discharge Flip Wiley because of her friendship for a crooked gambler

named Blue Chip Deegan. He told about Deegan's effort to install a crooked gambling wheel aboard the

A police search for Deegan disclosed that he was no longer in his usual haunts. He had apparently fled town.

A warning was flashed all over the country to apprehend Blue Chip Deegan for the murder of Flip Wiley.

Acting Inspector Cardona issued a veiled statement to the newspapers hinting that the man who had slipped

through the fingers of the police at the Silver Knave's pier was actually Deegan!

THE SHADOW'S lean fingers laid aside the worthless newspaper clippings. A sheet of blank paper was

drawn into the pool of light on the surface of his desk. Using a pen, The Shadow began to write with

He first drew a triangle. At one angle of the figure, he wrote the name of Ned Turner. At the second he wrote

Pike's. The third angle was marked with Brody's name. Inside the triangle, The Shadow wrote "bookshop,"

The Shadow had already made a secret visit to the bookshop of the cunning John Brody, after discovering his

name in the flyleaf of the moroccobound book at Turner's apartment. He was also aware of the secret of the

Taking another sheet of blank paper, the steady hand of The Shadow drew another grim triangle. It was

exactly like the first, except that different names marked the three equal angles of the geometrical figures:

Flip Wiley linked the personalities of two very different men one cold and ruthless; the other warm,

handsome, suave. What had been the real relationship of the shapely Flip to these two sharply opposed boy

friends? Which of them, Hollister or Deegan, had drowned Flip by holding her lovely face under water in the

The Shadow didn't answer that question perhaps because it didn't contain in itself the proper reply.

Instead, his pen drew a large figure "2," indicating that he suspected two forces of evil in this most tangled

Lastly, he wrote the name that had thrown the New York police into utter confusion a name that meant no

more now than when it had first appeared in headlines after the raid on the Equator:

To the question mark that followed the name of that unknown supercriminal, The Shadow knew the amazing

answer. But he didn't voice his thoughts. Knowledge was no good without evidence.

The blue light in his sanctum suddenly faded. It left the chamber black and silent. No sounds of footsteps

were audible as The Shadow left that strange room hidden away in the heart of Manhattan.

He had just received a disturbing telephone call from John Brody. Brody had calmly informed the stage

producer that the magnificent solitaire diamond, for which Saxon had paid a deposit of one thousand dollars,

was missing! Worse, he refused to return Saxon's money. He assured Saxon that the debt would be adjusted

Saxon's reaction was grimly swift. He called up his bank and asked them to stop payment on the check he had

Sensing Saxon's worry, the cashier said anxiously: "I'm sorry. Naturally I had no way of knowing that you

"No." Saxon covered his anger with a forced laugh. "It's just a small misunderstanding between myself and

Again he put through a call for Brody's bookshop. This time, he minced no words. He threatened to squeal to

the police concerning the nature of Brody's undercover business in jewels, unless his money was promptly

"Don't get tough," Brody said curtly. "No one is trying to gyp you! I expect to receive very shortly another

interesting shipment of ahem rare objects. I'll merely transfer your onethousanddollar deposit to

"You will like hell!" Saxon barked. "You'll give me what I bought, or my money back! If you don't, I'll lay

the whole matter before the district attorney! You've been lying to me about those gems being slipped quietly

on the market by impoverished collectors who didn't want their bankruptcy to become known to the public. I

"Listen, sap! If you try to rat on me to the cops, your body will be fished from the river like a lot of other

The bookseller hung up with a bang. But there was a deep crease of worry between his sly eyes. He got in

telephone touch with Ned Turner and told him the imminent peril that threatened both of them.

Turner's face flushed. Then it paled. He was sitting in the ornate library of his expensive Manhattan

apartment. He lowered his voice as he leaned closer to the transmitter, but every syllable was crystal clear

"Put a couple of gunners on Saxon's tail. Follow him wherever he goes. No wait a minute! Don't do that!

Go over to Saxon's apartment yourself. Kid him along; tell him that you've changed your mind, that you'll

"If he does, I'll give him some real pirate treatment. I'll make the fool walk the plank! Before I get through

Turner's voice choked off suddenly. He added, huskily: "That's swell, Mr. Saxon. I think the act will go over

He hung up and turned to face his daughter. Edith Turner had just entered the room. There was a puzzled

"Who's going to walk the plank, father?" she smiled. "It sounds positively bloodthirsty!"

Turner reassured her with a glib lie. He told Edith he had just been talking to Anthony Saxon concerning a

new ballet dance for the "Floating Follies." Because of the strange death of Flip Wiley, Turner was anxious to

"The new act will be an oldfashioned pirate set," he grinned, "with a bevy of beautiful chorus girls dressed

in cute little boots, gold earrings and not much else. The customers will love it. Saxon is going to stage it

EDITH nodded without much interest. She was completely fooled. Her father left the room to get his hat and

coat. He told Edith he was going to have a talk with Saxon. That was the grim truth. Turner was going to

assist the cunning John Brody to put the heat on the unfortunate stage producer.

He had scarcely left the library for an inner room of the apartment, when a servant came to the door. The

servant announced a visitor for Miss Edith. Her heart leaped with pleasure at sight of the handsome caller.

There was a mysterious smile on Hollister's lips. He drew Edith into a quick embrace and kissed her. He

whispered something into her ear that brought a delighted sparkle to her blue eyes.

"A surprise? For me? What is it?" The sight of the gift stunned the girl into instant silence. Hollister had laid

in her palm the largest and most gorgeously perfect diamond solitaire ring she had ever beheld.

"It is. It has been in my family for generations. That's why I delayed buying your engagement ring. I wanted

"Is he here? Darling wait! I I'd rather keep the surprise a secret until I can change this oldfashioned

setting for something more modern. That yellow gold ought to be platinum. And the setting itself is so heavy

He clutched for it as he heard a heavy step approaching the library door. Edith playfully resisted. She

demanded a kiss before she relinquished her "surprise." She was amazed at the roughness with which

He was too late to slip it out of sight into his pocket. Ned Turner had seen the sparkle of the gorgeous stone.

He stopped short, staring at it. For an instant, there was a dreadful rigidity on his face. On Hollister's, too.

Hollister told Edith's father the same story he had told the daughter. Turner congratulated the young man on

Actually, Turner was icily aware that the sparkling stone in Hollister's possession was part of the loot stolen

from the bookshop by the figure of Davy Jones! It was the same gem over which the gypped Anthony Saxon

Turner promptly got rid of his daughter with a suave excuse. He told Edith the time had come when he and

her future husband must talk about the necessary financial arrangements for the coming marriage.

AS soon as Edith left the room, Turner whirled grimly on Hollister. He demanded to know where he had

Hollister's laugh was mirthless; his lips were a thin line. He refused to explain.

"You damned scoundrel!" Turner growled. "I know now exactly who and what you are. You fooled me for a

long time; now it's a showdown. You raided Brody's bookshop and stole those gems! You're the wise guy

who's been taking advantage of all this Davy Jones publicity to pull a cunning hijack game! Well, let me tell

He backed up a step as he saw Hollister's hand flash toward his hip. Turner's own gesture was like lightning.

The patter of eager feet was all that averted a gun duel between the two glaring men. Hollister let go of the

butt of his weapon and mopped his pale face with a handkerchief. Turner averted his body and pretended to

They both smiled tremulously at the flushed face of Edith. She was tremendously excited. She wanted Roy to

take her out and celebrate. A quick glance at a rigid grin of Turner's made the young man shake his head.

Suavely, he explained that he had only dropped in for a minute. He was terrible busy. He'd see Edith later;

Before the girl rightly understood what was going on, Hollister bowed and took his departure. He went

straight to the bookshop of John Brody, having made grimly sure that he was not followed.

He entered, after noting that the shop was empty except for Brody's stupidlooking female clerk. To

Hollister's satisfaction, Pauline informed him that Mr. Brody was away on business connected with a new

This pleased Hollister. Brody was the last man he wanted to see at this particular moment. He told Pauline his

He left the bookshop and took a cab down the avenue. But this was only a bluff. Returning to the

neighborhood on foot. Hollister rounded the corner and walked quietly up the side street toward a dark and

This was the house which contained no tenants and which was always "for sale." Hollister grinned coldly as

he passed along on the other side of the street. His gaze was not directed toward the brownstone house. He

It was growing dim and shadowy in the rather narrow side street. The afternoon was waning into dusk. Not

many pedestrians were visible. Hollister walked onward to the next corner and loitered in front of a cigar

store until he saw that the coast was clear. Then he returned rapidly on the same side as the brownstone house

It was not quite dark enough yet for the street lamps to be on. But it was dark enough to blur Hollister's figure

and afford some measure of concealment for his downtilted face. The shades on the dusty windows of the

Hollister paused, as if admiring the sedan at the curb. He was a shrewd, cool man. His hand that lifted the

trunk lid at the back of the car was slow, almost casual. But his disappearance was made with lightning

One moment he was crouched alertly, staring up and down the deserted street. The next, the street was

Crouched out of sight in his selfselected prison. Hollister congratulated himself. He chuckled at the thought

He was wrong, however. An alert figure hidden in a doorway across the street, was completely aware of what

The Shadow had been waiting patiently. He had not been idle since his discovery that the bookshop of John

Brody was a fence for an organized gang of jewel smugglers. He knew the secret of the dingy brownstone

house. He was aware of the tunnel that connected it with a secret chamber under the rear of Brody's store.

THE SHADOW retreated into the house where he had posted himself. He climbed the deserted stairs to a

room he had hired. There was a telephone in this room. The Shadow called a number that rang a bell inside a

A man was lounging near that booth. At the ring of the bell, he closed himself inside the glassed door and

Five minutes later, a car driven by this same young man, rounded the corner and parked. The driver seemed

His name was Clyde Burke, reporter on the Classic, and a trusted agent of The Shadow. The Shadow had

chosen Clyde because the reporter was an excellent marksman with a pistol; and The Shadow expected

Meanwhile, the missing John Brody had not been idle. Obeying the shrewd orders of Ned Turner, he had paid

a hasty visit to the office of Anthony Saxon. Brody was as smooth as honey. He apologized for his gruff talk

over the phone, and sang a sweet and completely different tune. He promised to repay Saxon's

Saxon lost his ire. Smilingly, he got his hat and coat and accompanied the wily Brody back to the bookshop.

They entered but they did not emerge. A long time passed. The darkness grew thicker outside. The street

lamps had long since sprung into yellow brilliance by the time Anthony Saxon reappeared in public.

He came out of the brownstone house midway up the side street. Saxon appeared to be drunk. His feet

He was supported by two men who hustled the wavering "drunk" toward the closed car at the curb. One of

Once inside the car. Saxon's figure was dumped on the floor and covered with a thick laprobe. The car rolled

at a slow speed toward the corner. Turning, it vanished up the avenue. Its speed increased.

Another car got quietly into motion. This was the one in which Clyde Burke had sat dozing so long after his

The Shadow rode with Clyde. He issued no orders. None were necessary. Clyde's job was to follow the

It was The Shadow's intention to rip away the mystery that shrouded the underwater disappearance of a black

speedboat in the upper Hudson. The Shadow suspected that "Davy Jones' locker" was a very real, and not at

Sibilant laughter echoed eerily in Clyde Burke's ears, as he drove his trailing car northward through the

THE trail of Anthony Saxon's kidnapers led to the diagonal slash of brilliantly lighted Broadway. The crooks

were taking a swift route northwest through Manhattan. Evidently they were heading for the more sparsely

The Shadow suspected that their goal would be a spot somewhere along the Hudson. Probably, about a mile

This opinion was based on the movements of Pike and his men the night they had carried The Shadow to the

muddy islet before their unsuccessful attempt to drown him. The black speedboat had apparently reached the

The pursuit of the unsuspecting criminals continued beyond the city line. Riverdale was passed. Through

patches of trees, the dark sheen of the Hudson was occasionally visible. Heavy traffic along the motor

The crooks reached an intersection finally, and halted. A dirt lane led toward the river, through a thick grove

of pine and spruce. Turner got out of the car, ostensibly to examine his tires. He glanced backward along the

The Shadow and Clyde Burke followed on foot. It was slower, but infinitely safer if they wished to avoid

Screened by a thick clump of trees, The Shadow watched. The fugitive car was parked in a small clearing not

far from the river. The water was invisible behind a tangled growth of underbrush and scrub pine. A narrow

footpath led onward to the river. Turner disappeared down the path. Brody remained in the car with Saxon.

Clyde started to move in pursuit of Turner, but the quick pressure of The Shadow's hand restrained the

impetuous newspaper man. A moment later, the reason for his prudence was disclosed. The trunk in the rear

Hollister's cleverness was superb. Not a sound betrayed him to Brody. All the lights of the car had been

extinguished. In the darkness, the lifting trunk lid was invisible from in front. The creaking of the wind

He slipped bellywise along the black earth until he reached concealment. Then he followed Turner not,

The Shadow was equally prudent. Accompanied by Clyde, he skirted to the left and crawled noiselessly

forward. A small wooden jetty was disclosed at the edge of the murky river. Hollister was nowhere in sight.

A man's head appeared over the end of the jetty. It seemed to rise miraculously from the waters of the

THE reason for Pike's mysterious appearance from the water was swiftly explained. He tugged at a hidden

line and the slim graceful hull of a black speedboat drifted from under the jetty.

There was a smothered laugh from Turner, a grunt from Pike. The two men hurried back to where Brody

They had hardly vanished when a patch of darkness slid swiftly into sight. Crouched close to the ground, Roy

Hollister darted toward the moored speedboat. He boarded it without sound, stowed himself out of sight

Something cool and leathercovered was thrust quietly into Clyde's hand. It was a pair of binoculars. Clyde

nodded, as The Shadow's lips brushed his ear with a brief order. He remained where he was. The Shadow left

Presently, Turner and Brody approached the jetty. They lugged between them the dazed figure of Anthony

Saxon. Pike, with them, started the boat's engine. The streamlined craft moved quietly into the darkness of

Clyde watched through his binoculars. The boat altered its course in midstream, slanting southward in a dark

tangent. It curved inward toward the shaggy shape of the Palisades on the Jersey side.

Clyde uttered a gasp of awe. The thing smacked of witchcraft! Moving his highpowered glasses in wider

circles along the black water, he was unable to detect any sign of the vanished boat.

He did a sensible thing, under the circumstances. Lifting his line of vision, he examined the Palisades above

A scar in the black cliff showed where something resembling an earth slide had occurred. Clyde used this

faintly visible gash as a marker to insure the correctness of his memory. Then he obeyed the orders of The

THE SHADOW, meanwhile, had devoted his attention to a large boathouse he had observed before he left

Clyde. The boathouse was dark and seemingly deserted, but The Shadow was taking no chances on

A diamond cutter removed a pane of glass from a window. The Shadow entered the dark interior without

He could see vaguely the graceful shapes of canoes, piled neatly on rows of timbered racks. But his glance

was a brief one. He heard the quick patter of investigating feet. Through an open door, he saw the

The wind blowing in through the hole left by the removed pane of glass had created a strong, cold draft of air.

This had excited the suspicion of the watchman. He came hurrying in, his lantern held high, a gun in his left

Dropping close to the floor behind the curved shape of a canoe, The Shadow slipped a silver coin from his

pocket. He tossed it lightly through the air, heard it strike against a canoe on the opposite side of the chamber.

The watchman whirled with an oath and pointed his gun. The Shadow darted silently behind him. There was

When The Shadow moved again, the watchman was tied and helpless in a corner. The attack had been

quickly made, the capture an almost painless one. Jujitsu had enabled The Shadow to put out of the way

Failure to seize him might have spoiled a wellplanned campaign against a dangerous criminal, smart enough

The Shadow went back to the open window. A moment later, the hurrying figure of Clyde Burke joined him

inside the boathouse. Clyde reported what he had seen through the binoculars. The Shadow did not seem

Hurrying through the boathouse, he reached the flat wooden float that fronted the Hudson. His gloved finger

pointed silently to a rowboat tied up at the edge. Clyde took a pair of oars from a rack near the runway

It was a slow method of crossing the river, but stealth and secrecy were more precious to The Shadow than

the time lost. Presently, the rowboat approached the spot under the Palisades which Clyde had noticed

It was not a natural gash in the hillside. The scar along the steep slope had been caused by workmen scooping

Fronting the river was a warehouse and a wharf, where barges formerly had tied up at the water's edge to

receive their loads of material. The warehouse rested on a concrete foundation that rose solidly out of the

water. It had been built thus to make it easier for barges to approach the adjoining wharf.

The Shadow was eyeing a single letter in that faded sign when there was a strange bubbling a few yards back

of the rowboat. It seemed like a subterranean disturbance on the bed of the river. A patch of foam on the

AT a quick order from The Shadow, Clyde removed most of his clothing. Clad only in socks and underwear,

he dived expertly near the spot where water was still bubbling upward. He was gone almost a full minute.

When he appeared finally, gasping for breath, the muscular grasp of The Shadow hauled him swiftly back

While he dressed, Clyde gave an amazing report. He had located a horizontal pipe lying on the bottom of the

river. The pipe was of large diameter, and it apparently came from the concrete warehouse at the water's

edge. The bubbling had been caused by a stream of water emerging from the pipe under terrific pressure!

The information confirmed something The Shadow had already divined. The sign about the cable crossing

was a device to keep boats from dropping anchor too near the warehouse and discovering the presence of the

hidden pipe. The water, which was now slowly ceasing to bubble upward, must come from the interior of that

Rowing the boat close to the concrete wall fronting the river. The Shadow examined more closely the letter of

the painted sign which had first attracted his attention. It was the letter "A" in "Anchor." It had been very

recently repainted. The extra blackness of the letter was a device to hide alterations in the concrete that had

The Shadow found, after a painstaking examination, that the short bar between the two vertical strokes of the

"A," was a lever. It slid outward and down when he jerked it. Instantly, a whole section of the concrete wall

Clyde pushed the rowboat through with an oar. The Shadow's electric torch shone briefly. The chamber

within seemed to be a basin for mooring boats under the cellar of the old gravel warehouse. It was empty.

Had the criminals sunk their craft? The Shadow thought not. He had a more daring theory to account for the

He ordered Clyde to row toward the inner concrete wall of the hidden basin. As the boat scraped along the

length of the wall, The Shadow examined every inch of its stained and moldy surface. He found, as he had

expected, a duplicate of the lever device he had uncovered on the outer wall. He jerked it outward and down

Nothing seemed to happen to the wall in front of him. But a cry from Clyde brought his head turning quickly.

The outer wall, the one behind them, was closing! Swiftly, the exit to the river vanished. They were trapped

Clyde was scared. But a sibilant whisper of laughter suddenly came from The Shadow. Torch in hand, he was

watching the inner wall. The wall remained unchanged but something was happening to the water. Its level

was dropping rapidly! The stain from the tide mark on the wall was already a foot higher than the surface.

The nature of the chamber was now apparent. It was a water lock. A mechanism had closed the lock and was

busily pumping water out through the exitpipe concealed on the bed of the river. The rowboat began to drop

When it had sunk nearly ten feet, a lock gate was exposed in the inner wall. Shoving the boat through, The

Shadow found himself in a smaller chamber, ten feet under the actual surface of the Hudson River!

MEANWHILE, the automatic action of the lever had closed the lock of the basin. A strange, rushing noise

was audible through the thickness of the concrete wall. Water was now filling the outside chamber again to

the level of the tide mark. Ten feet under the surface of the river, The Shadow's rowboat floated, cunningly

It was moored to a ringbolt in the wall. There was no sign of Turner, Brody, or the uglyfaced Pike. They

Nor was there any sign of Roy Hollister. Evidently he had left his hiding place soon after the others had

His probable method of escape from the inner lock was no mystery to The Shadow, after the ray of his torch

flashed along the ceiling of the inclosed chamber. The square outline of a closed trapdoor was visible almost

The Shadow motioned curtly to Clyde Burke. The two men stepped into the speedboat. Reaching backward,

The Shadow removed a plug from the leaky hull of their own craft. It was a dangerous clue to their presence,

if spotted by Turner or any of his men. The rowboat sank out of sight with a faint gurgle.

Clyde understood what he had to do next, when he saw The Shadow spread his feet apart and brace them

solidly on the planked floor of the black pirate craft. Clyde scrambled to The Shadow's shoulders. He was

able to lean outward and fumble at the crack of the trapdoor in the ceiling with nervously eager fingers.

He was too nervous, too eager. Before he realized it, he had leaned too far. He tried to save himself by

Instantly, The Shadow went off the boat in a clean dive. Unlike Clyde, he made no splash. His fingers caught

the reporter's shoulder in a grim clutch. To Clyde's horror, he found himself being drawn downward, instead

The rush of rapidly racing footsteps was audible above the ceiling of the lock. Clyde's awkward splash had

been heard. There was a squeak as the trap lifted. Dim light flooded through. The pale blur of a face peered.

But the face was exposed for so brief an instant that it was indistinguishable. The flashlight in the crook's

hand was held in such a way that it afforded no chance to identify his face. In his other hand, a gun glittered

He stared for a breathless instant at the speedboat beneath the partly opened trapdoor. Boat and water alike

That was the reason why The Shadow had dived overboard. Clutching Clyde's shoulder, he had drawn him

downward instead of up. The two passed like squirming fish beneath the keel of the speedboat, their heads to

A space of only a few inches was open between this side of the boat and the concrete wall of the lock. The

But the splash which had been made by Clyde's body was not so easily camouflaged. It was that sound which

The Shadow deceived the man by deceiving his mind. He presented a false sense impression to him, hoping

The submerged palms of The Shadow began to wave back and forth. The motion set up a quick current.

Waves began to roll against the concrete wall and splash. They moved rhythmically, one after another.

Above, the unseen man uttered a hoarse laugh. His mind acted as The Shadow intended it should. He thought

that the ripples were caused by the wash of a river steamer going down the Hudson outside. Those boats

produced a strong wash along the shore in the relatively shallow water. The agitation of the water would

penetrate even to the interior of the lock. It was a logical explanation to the man above.

Cautiously, the dripping body of The Shadow emerged quietly from the water. Flame seemed to writhe in the

His presence in the headquarters of Davy Jones remained unguessed. The way to the unmasking and capture

NED TURNER sat in the center. The silken packet lay on the table before him. To the right of Turner was

Ned Turner had changed this abandoned gravel warehouse to suit his own purposes. The cost had been

considerable, but Turner had already received a princely profit on his investment.

He chuckled with delight as his itching fingers opened the packet that lay before him on the table. Gems

spilled out in rich profusion. It was the loot that had been successfully stolen from the Silver Knave by Pike,

Pike grinned, said: "They're O.K. Saxon was a cinch to handle. Blue Chip Deegan was a bit tougher. But we

don't have to worry about either of those babies any more. They're ready for the works, as soon as you say the

"Too bad about Deegan. A smart guy! If he wasn't such a damned lone wolf, he might have made himself a

"The hell you say!" Pike growled. He looked like a tiger from whom a juicy morsel of meat has been

"I'm using my brains. I'm waiting for a bigger victim. Time enough to get rid of Deegan and Saxon after

There was a gasp from Pike, a faint sigh from the more quiet Brody. Both gazed at Turner.

"I've found out who this hijacker really is," Turner continued. "He's the man who nearly ruined our raid on

"What good does that news do us," Brody commented quietly, "if we don't know who The Shadow is and

"Tonight will answer both those questions," Turner replied. "In the first, place, I know already who The

Shadow really is. He's the very handsome gentleman who plans to marry my daughter. In other words, Mr.

"In the second place, Hollister is walking into a trap tonight. I didn't tell you what was going on before this,

because I didn't want to risk a premature move. Hollister was outside the bookshop tonight when we

kidnapped Saxon! More than that, he rode with us up the Hudson, concealed in the trunk of my car!"

"I let the fool do it. Unless I'm completely wrong, he sneaked from the car to the speedboat and rode across

His hand stopped the impetuous thug. From the drawer of the desk where Turner sat came a loop of tightly

woven cord. It was a garrote cord, used to strangle a victim murderously from behind.

"Take this, it's better than a gun. It has the virtue of silence. And make sure you don't get too enthusiastic and

kill the fool. I want the pleasure of watching him die a bit more slowly than from strangulation. You

Ned Turner began to play covetously with the heap of sparkling gems piled before him on the table.

THE SHADOW and Clyde Burke stood perfectly still in the midst of pitchblackness. They had emerged

With speech, the lips of The Shadow moved close to Clyde's ear. Clyde pressed The Shadow's wet arm twice

to indicate that he understood and would obey. He remained where he was. The Shadow vanished from his

The extent and nature of this invisible room was unknown to The Shadow. He began to pace slowly forward

in the darkness, planting each foot carefully before him. His intent was to measure the chamber's area and

He had taken barely twenty short steps, when he suddenly halted. A faint sound hissed quietly in the

It was hardly loud enough to be called a sound. It seemed more like the sigh of a tired man. It didn't come

from the spot where The Shadow had left Clyde Burke waiting. It seemed to come somewhere from the left.

The Shadow remained perfectly still. He didn't want to betray his presence to a foe he was sure was now

inside the chamber. He hoped to hear a repetition of that faint, sighing whisper. In about thirty seconds, it was

repeated. It resembled the hiss of compressed air carefully controlled by some muffling device.

Silently, The Shadow retraced his steps toward the spot where he had left Clyde. He had no need of eyes. His

movements from and toward his agent were guided by mathematics. At the twentieth slow step, he reached

Quickly, his arm began to describe wider and wider circles in empty darkness. Clyde was gone!

A less competent investigator would have flashed on a light or rushed heedlessly into peril. The Shadow did

neither. His alert brain told him a simpler and more perfect method of following the trail of his vanished

He lowered himself to his knees on the stone floor of the pitchblack chamber. His palms felt moisture on the

stone. It was water from the drip of Clyde's soaked clothing. Circling cautiously, The Shadow located a trail

of damp drops. It led toward the left the direction where The Shadow had heard the strange sighing

His hand soon touched a vertical object. He knew from its smoothness and coldness that he was facing a

masonry wall. A blank wall! No sign of door, window or aperture of any kind was evident to the exploring

An exit had closed on a cunning kidnaper and his victim. The criminal, unaware that two men were hidden by

concealing darkness, had struck silently and vanished with the helpless reporter.

There was no longer any need for caution. The Shadow's tiny electric torch glowed. It showed a thick stone

wall. The damp trail left by Clyde ended directly in front of that solid surface.

The Shadow's flash circled the chamber in which he stood. He saw a room about forty feet square. The only

perceptible break in its stone paving was the outline of the trapdoor in the floor.

Again the light torch returned to the wall. The wet drops left by Clyde made the location of the exit panel a

The Shadow began to search with grim swiftness for the device that controlled the mechanism.

AT that very instant, the murderous Pike was standing on the other side of the wall. He had no knowledge

that he had made a bad blunder in his selection of a victim. The thick wall hid the gleam of The Shadow's

There was a burlap sack over Clyde's head. It had been drawn swiftly over him and tightened with a draw

string, after the garrote cord had bit into the flesh of Clyde's throat from behind.

Clyde lay flat on the floor, twitching feebly. He was in agony from the pressure of the strangulation cord. But

he was in no immediate danger of death. Pike had obeyed the order of Ned Turner. He had drawn the loop

Picking up the muffled figure of Clyde. Pike tossed him over his shoulder. Using a small torch to guide him,

He came, finally, to a spot where the passage ahead of him forked. A narrow stonepaved corridor led to the

It brought him back to the conference room where Turner and Brody waited. For once, Brody had lost his

sneering calm. He leaped excitedly to his feet as Pike dumped the muffled victim to the stone floor. His voice

Clyde's face was bluish from the pressure of the garrote cord about his throat. His fingers plucked

A medley of oaths greeted the exposure of his agonized face. The trio of criminals stared at one another in

astonishment. The prisoner wasn't Roy Hollister! They had never seen this man before.

It was John Brody who flung himself at the captive. His fingers dived into Clyde's pockets, exploring them

"We're a pack of damned fools, Ned!" he shrilled fiercely. "This fellow isn't The Shadow! He's a reporter for

He was holding a scrap of pasteboard in his shaking fingers. It was Clyde's press card.

"Where the hell is Hollister? Did you let him get away from you? There must have been two of them down

Pike shook his dazed head. "There was only one, I'm telling you! How the hell did a reporter get in through

"It means the cops are wise to us," Brody said in his cold, silky voice. "I've heard about this Clyde Burke.

He's the ace reporter of the Classic. He has police contacts Acting Inspector Cardona is his best friend. If

Burke is here, it means that Cardona and his cops are somewhere nearby, either ashore or on the river."

HE whipped the cord from Clyde's throat. Liquor was poured into his open mouth. The reporter gasped as the

"O.K., Mr. Clyde Burke, you're on the spot! We want the right answers. Are the cops in on this little raid of

The husky mobster threw himself at the reporter, sent the dazed Clyde crashing to the floor from a powerful

blow. Having tied Clyde's wrists and ankles, he removed his wet shoes and socks. Lifting the barefooted

victim, he carried him to a table. Turner had leaped toward a dusty cupboard. He removed something and

handed it to Pike. It looked like a plumber's blowtorch. Under Pike's expert touch, flame jetted from the thing

THE secret of the wall mechanism did not delay The Shadow very long. Fear speeded his groping fingers

fear for the missing Clyde Burke. The Shadow had a vivid idea of what would happen to Clyde if rescue was

Having passed the barrier in the dark masonry, The Shadow began to advance at a swift, though noiseless,

pace. He raced along the narrow passage that had already swallowed up the figures of Clyde and his captor.

In a few moments, The Shadow came to the dead end that had halted Pike briefly. He saw the forked tunnels

that led to left and right. Pike had gone to the left. But The Shadow chose the corridor to the right.

His choice was dictated by a faint groan he head. Hurrying forward, he came soon to a small, earthpaved

It was Saxon who had groaned. Deegan's lips were taut; his eyes were narrowed in the glare of The Shadow's

Deegan said nothing. He waited until The Shadow leaned over him then his muscular hands shot out and

grappled with his deliverer! Saxon sprang up too. Both prisoners were not as helpless as they pretended. They

A pistol in Deegan's hand cracked as The Shadow swayed backward. His own gun leaped into view. But

before he could defend himself, the single electric bulb in the ceiling went suddenly out.

The Shadow had dropped his torch. He snatched it up again and whirled as a shot smashed at him from the

The ugly figure of Pike was revealed. He had heard the crash of Deegan's shot. Racing along the narrow

passage, he was just in time to break up the battle between The Shadow and the two then he had sought to

Saxon and Deegan fled through an inner doorway. The Shadow, driven toward the side wall by the charging

But he had been wounded by Pike's first shot. The slug had creased his ribs, stunning him by the redhot

impact and twisting him to his knees. Before he could writhe out of danger, the onrushing Pike leaned over

Before The Shadow could recover from that stunning impact on his skull, he was a prisoner in the conference

PIKE was confident that this time he had captured the elusive Roy Hollister. But a quick examination of the

It was obvious to all three crooks that Roy Hollister and The Shadow were not the same personality. Hollister

was a younger man. But there was no doubt that they had at last caught The Shadow! His beaked nose, the

piercing flame that seemed to writhe in the depths of his deepsocketed eyes, proclaimed his identity.

His head hung weakly on his heaving chest. Blood welled from the bullet slash that had creased his ribs. He

looked like a man mortally hurt. But he laughed as he straightened suddenly. He tore himself backward from

his captors, and his hand seized the flaming blowtorch that had been set carelessly aside by Pike.

Its agonized heat blasted the staring eyes of the thug, singeing his lashes and brows into a sooty smudge.

As he did so, the diving Shadow withdrew a hidden automatic from beneath his cloak. He went under the stab

of crimson from Turner's weapon like a man doing a deepknee bend. His own bullet caught the showboat

owner squarely in the stomach. Turner went down with a scream, clutching his body.

Brody, in his haste to fire at The Shadow, fell over his writhing companion. The Shadow felt pain from

Brody's slug lick along his wrist. But the crash of his weapon was even swifter than the stab of hot pain.

Pike had clawed the blindness from his singed eyes. He came at The Shadow, like a madman, gun leveled to

kill. There was only one way to stop him. The Shadow's bullet snuffed out Pike's life a scant instant before

the mobster's clenched finger could squeeze the trigger that would have killed The Shadow.

Silence filled the chamber. The acrid odor of burned cordite was like a sharp bite in The Shadow's quivering

nostrils. He saw that Brody and Pike were dead. Turner, badly wounded, was threshing of the floor, uttering

animallike whimpers. His clenched fingers pressed against the oozing wound in his stomach.

The Shadow cloaked his automatic, then released Clyde Burke. He slashed the bonds from his ankles and

wrists and helped him from the torture table. Clyde's lips were gray. He was bent over like an old man.

About to lean over the table where the jewels stolen from the Silver Knave lay in a sparkle of colored glory,

The voice came from the doorway behind The Shadow. There was death in its clipped politeness.

"Don't move, gentlemen! Hands up high!... Thank you." A faint chuckle followed. "Now you may turn about,

It was impossible to tell whether he was young or old. His face was the horrible visage of a dead man a

Wet hair hung in dank streaks over the livid face. Seagreen trousers and smock clung to the apparition's

body in moldy folds. A crimson mark was visible on the wet forehead. It was the same device that John

Brody had seen in the cellar of the bookshop when the gems from the Equator had been hijacked: a trident.

THE gun in the gloved hand of Davy Jones menaced The Shadow and the painracked figure of Clyde

Burke. Clyde leaned weakly against The Shadow. The flesh of his bare feet was bleeding from the flame of

A groan came from Clyde; but he dared not lower his stiffly upraised arms. Nor did The Shadow.

The Shadow was concentrating his calm gaze on the intruder. It was obvious at close quarters that the

dreadful appearance of Davy Jones was the result of clever makeup. The stiff horror of that greenhued face

came from a waxen mask. The dank, black hair was a wig. The drops of sea water on the damp forehead

"Thank you for mopping up three rather dangerous rivals. Pike and Brody seem to be quite dead. Ned Turner

His voice sounded like the croak of a frog. It was obviously disguised. He continued in the same ugly

"You're going to be blown into pieces so small that it will take a microscope to identify any part of you!

Behind you is a door. Inside that door is a chamber partly filled with loose gravel. The gravel has been there

"I need not tell what a dust explosion is like, nor what will happen to you when a delayed electric spark

He advanced slowly toward the table where the glittering heap of jewels lay. The Shadow and Clyde backed

up under the menace of his gun. Davy Jones scooped up the jewels with his left hand and crammed them

inside the silken packet. The packet disappeared in a pocket of his green smock.

The Shadow's arms were still helplessly lifted; but he managed to swing his face briefly toward Clyde. He

gave him an imperceptible hint of what he desired by a forward inclination of his head.

Clyde's profile was partly turned. He was able to follow the direction of The Shadow's veiled gaze without

moving his eyes. An added pallor in his face was the only indication that he realized what The Shadow

The dropped gun of John Brody lay on the floor, not more than three feet from where Clyde stood groaning

Unaware of the full extent of The Shadow's plan, but obedient to the last, Clyde reeled a step backward on

bleeding feet. His agony amused Davy Jones. But the chuckle of the masked apparition changed swiftly to a

Clyde flung himself suddenly backward. As he hit the floor, his body squirmed over. His desperate fingers

clutched for the gun. Davy Jones whirled the muzzle of his weapon toward an easy target. Then he hesitated,

The Shadow had flung himself into motion at the instant Clyde fell to the floor. He dived in a different

direction from that taken by Clyde, His goal was the pair of shoes which the murderous Pike had removed

The Shadow scooped up a shoe and threw it with a motion so fast that his arm was a blur. The heel struck

As he reeled back, his delayed shot raised roaring echoes in the room. The bullet, aimed not quite at Clyde

Again. The Shadow was on his feet. But he was not close enough to save himself from attempted murder on

Davy Jones' part. Clyde's desperate lunge did that. Unable to rise from the floor, he pivoted on his belly and

thrust out clawing fingers. His hand closed on an ankle of Davy Jones. The killer's shot roared uselessly.

BUT he was a cunning and resourceful criminal. Eluding The Shadow's quick grapple, Davy Jones swung his

The sight on the barrel ripped a crimson furrow in The Shadow's forehead. Blood poured into The Shadow's

eyes, blinding him with its warm deluge. Clyde seized Brody's gun, fired jerkily at Davy Jones from a

But the masked phantom was already in flight. He raced toward the open doorway through which he had

He was pursued after a moment or two by the wounded Shadow. Behind The Shadow came the pattering bare

feet of the nervy Clyde. Forgetful of his horrible burns, forgetful of everything but the capture of a cornered

The Shadow had lost his flashlight. He used the flickering glow of Pike's blowtorch to guide him. The blood

The chase led to the chamber where Saxon and Deegan had been held as prisoners. The room was empty, but

an inner door stood open. It was through this inner door that the two prisoners had fled after their mad

Beyond was a long narrow corridor leading to a smaller room. The Shadow halted cautiously on the threshold

of this room, then stepped quickly inside. Clyde followed him. The Classic reporter took one wondering look,

A man was lying on the floor. Blood oozed from a gash in his scalp. He groaned feebly and swayed to his

Clyde stared at the pale face of the young marine broker who had been missing ever since he had hid himself

But it wasn't Hollister's pale face that drew Clyde's grim scrutiny, nor the gash in his scalp that dripped a slow

Hanging loosely to his body, partly unbuttoned, was the upper half of the seagreen costume of Davy Jones!

Nearby on the floor, partly concealed by a heap of straw under which it had been hastily thrust, was the

waxen mask that had been worn a few moments earlier by the underwater apparition.

Clyde's gun lined on Hollister's heart. The voice of The Shadow was a brief monosyllable:

HOLLISTER tried to explain. His voice was shrill. He was panting with fatigue, but there was steadiness in

the gaze which he bent on the expressionless face of The Shadow. He was trying to gauge the effect of his

Hollister denied he was Davy Jones. He said he had been hiding in the lower part of the old warehouse.

Hearing the crash of gunfire, he had sneaked upward along a dark passage and had been struck down in the

His voice faltered as he tried to explain the presence on his body of the seagreen smock of Davy Jones. The

extended finger of The Shadow pointed silently toward the waxen mask that lay a few inches from Hollister's

"I'm telling the truth," he snarled defiantly. "You can believe me or go to hell! Try to hand me over to the

A groan from a dark corner of the room cut through Clyde's command. A pile of straw lay heaped high in one

The Shadow sprang to his aid. He kicked the pile of straw flying as he listened to Saxon's terrified whisper.

The body of another man was disclosed. It was the missing gambler, Blue Chip Deegan. He was stonedead.

"Don't let Hollister fool you!" Saxon gasped. "He's a damned liar! He struck himself on the head when he

rushed in here! He ripped off the mask and tried to wriggle out of his disguise! But you got here too quick for

Feebly, Saxon explained. He and Deegan had been wounded when Pike had captured The Shadow. The two

prisoners had staggered through the inner passage to the smaller chamber. Terrified, they crawled beneath the

pile of straw in the corner. Deegan, mortally hurt, died while he lay there. Saxon, afraid to move, had to stifle

his groans. Hollister didn't suspect their presence when he had rushed in and made his quick change.

The Shadow nodded. His face was grim, as he uttered five strange words. They were echoed incredulously by

FOR a moment there was stunned silence. Then The Shadow reached out. Saxon's right hand was hanging

limply, close to his thigh. Only the back showed. Twisting it, The Shadow exposed the palm of that hand. It

He had observed the gory mouth and chin of the stage producer, while Saxon was trying to pin the guilt on

Hollister. Saxon was not actually wounded. He had merely pretended to be. The blood had come from Blue

Saxon, trapped by the swift pursuit of The Shadow, had dipped his palm in the gambler's blood and smeared

The Shadow continued to explain, as Saxon stood sullenly under the menace of Clyde's gun.

Hollister's story was correct. He had been slugged from behind. The waxen mask of Davy Jones was dropped

close to his fingers. Saxon hastily wrapped his victim in the green smock. Then he dived under the straw pile

beside the body of Deegan whom he himself had treacherously killed. It was from this straw pile that Saxon

The Shadow proved it by lifting the silken packet of jewels from Saxon's pocket. He also ripped the belt loose

from the theatrical producer's trousers. Under those trousers Saxon was still wearing the seagreen trousers of

"All right. You got me! But all you can prove is robbery. You can't send me to the chair. After all, I robbed

only crooks. A smart lawyer will see to it that I get off with a fairly light sentence."

"Flip Wiley," he said calmly "you killed her! For that you will die in the electric chair!"

Saxon uttered no sound. But he sprang instantly like a clawing cat. His leap carried him into a squirming

struggle with the startled Clyde. Clyde fired, missed, then he lost his gun to Saxon. Saxon struck him down,

An automatic appeared suddenly in the gloved hand of The Shadow. It was pointed steadily, its trigger ready.

Saxon didn't fire for an instant. Something seemed to snap in his maddened brain. He was through and he

knew it. He could see nothing but the vision of a ghastly leatherstrapped chair in a barewalled prison room

But the bullet from that swiftly turning muzzle was fired by Saxon into his own brain. He was dead before he

IT was some time before the trembling Roy Hollister could speak. He had kept silent because his own marine

insurance business was not a strictly legal proposition. He had operated with spies along the water front,

His interest in the Silver Knave came from the fact that he was moving cargoes aboard liners at cut rates, in

violation of marine law. He used Flip and others to help him make contact with line officials. Hollister and

It was from Flip that Hollister had obtained the stolen diamond solitaire. Anthony Saxon had given it to Flip.

For the first time in his career, Saxon had fallen victim to the charms of a shapely woman. He could not resist

giving the gem to Flip. Flip, extravagant and broke, had sold the ring to Hollister, who had no knowledge of

Saxon, realizing he had acted foolishly, demanded the ring back from Flip. Learning what she had done, he

Ned Turner had found Flip's body. He and Pike got rid of the dancer's corpse to keep suspicion away from the

showboat. They thought Deegan had killed the dancer. They suspected either Deegan or Hollister of

But The Shadow knew the real identity of Davy Jones. Only a man skilled in the arts of the theater could

have invented that amazingly clever disguise of a drowned apparition. Saxon was familiar with every art and

contrivance of the stage. Turner was merely a theater owner, a business man who had turned to gem

Saxon learned of the racket when he purchased stolen gems from Brody. He was greedy enough to want the

The Shadow's revealing words ended. A nod sent Clyde Burke hobbling painfully through the passage to the

There was a phone there and Clyde used it to send an electrifying message to police headquarters. It brought

a harbor patrol boat roaring up the Hudson to the abandoned warehouse. Joe Cardona was with the excited

They found the solution of a baffling series of crimes. They listened to the trembling voice of a marine broker

who promised to turn State's evidence. The sight of the sparkling loot from the Silver Knave made the cops'

He had glided silently into obscurity. Somewhere along the dark shores of the Hudson River, he had

vanished. He would remain in darkness, like a grim legend of justice, until some new crime brought him back