THE SHADOW'S RIVAL ..................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. ZERO HOUR....................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE SECOND SURPRISE.............................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE GIANT BRAIN ......................................................................................................9

CHAPTER IV. THE BELATED GOAL ...............................................................................................13

CHAPTER V. SNATCHED VICTORY...............................................................................................17

CHAPTER VI. THE NEXT CAMPAIGN............................................................................................21

CHAPTER VII. THE CLOSED TRAP.................................................................................................25

CHAPTER VIII. CRIME WITHOUT PROFIT....................................................................................29

CHAPTER IX. THE STALEMATES...................................................................................................33

CHAPTER X. THE NEEDED LINK....................................................................................................38

CHAPTER XI. DEATH FROM ABOVE.............................................................................................42

CHAPTER XII. SEARD'S ANALYSIS ................................................................................................45

CHAPTER XIII. THREE CROOKS CONFER....................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIV. TWO FROM THREE ................................................................................................53

CHAPTER XV. THE CROSSED TRAIL .............................................................................................58

CHAPTER XVI. THE GAS BLAST .....................................................................................................61

CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW PROPOSES ...................................................................................65

CHAPTER XVIII. PLACED EVIDENCE ............................................................................................69

CHAPTER XIX. SPOILS UNGAINED ................................................................................................74

CHAPTER XX. DEATH DEFIED ........................................................................................................78

A CLUSTER of hardfaced men was spread about a large, square room. The place was wellfurnished with

cushioned chairs and tables; its windows were heavily curtained. Those windows were all at one end of the

The doors differed. One was a sliding barrier that marked the entrance to an elevator shaft. Opposite it was a

metal door that led to an upward stairway, for it was one step above the floor level. The third door was

straight across the room from the windows. It was open; and a passage beyond led to the bedrooms of the

Among the hardfaced men was one who sat glum and sullen, watching his companions as they helped

themselves to a buffet supper. On the table beside the sullen man lay outspread newspapers. From every front

The captions with those photographs named the sullen man as "Chink" Rethlo, New York's own Public

Chink's narrowslitted eyes and yellowish complexion gave him a Mongolian appearance, as did his straight

black hair. His face was one that could be easily recognized; as it had been, during his recent career of crime.

Staging three bank holdups at oneweek intervals, Chink had openly bagged nearly a million dollars in

It had produced a fray in which two bank guards and a uniformed policeman had been shot dead by Chink's

When Chink brooded, his pals felt uneasy. They were wise enough to keep their thoughts to themselves; but

their leader had a faculty for guessing what was in their minds. He showed that ability as he rose from his

"It's these news sheets! My mug staring offa every front page! The bulls saying nothing! That may sound

good to you lugs, but it's sour to me! When the bulls have got nothing, they promise a lot!"

Chink looked away from his silent followers, to eye the doorways and windows with suspicion.

"It looks like a swell hideaway, this joint," he added. "A regular castle, on the twelfth floor of an old loft

building that everybody's forgotten. With our own elevator shaft, tucked in a corner, running straight up from

"Yeah, and Plugger Kilgey down there, with a coverup crew. Trigger men in a pillbox waiting to chop

down anybody who barges in on us. It looks swell; still, I don't like it!" Chink sat down in his chair. He

picked out one of his toughvisaged companions. Giving a nudge to the door at his left, Chink ordered:

Herk hurried to obey Chink's order. When the door had closed behind him, Chink thought over his previous

"Maybe I'm wrong about the bulls," he declared. "They've been knocking off a lot of smalltimers lately.

That's probably luck. The bulls are dumb clucks, mostly. But there's one guy that ain't. The Shadow!"

Mention of the name caused listeners to share Chink's concern. Scourge of the underworld, The Shadow was

dreaded by all men of crime. Mysterious, invisible, he revealed himself only as a fighter cloaked in black. His

"Why's The Shadow been laying off us?" demanded Chink, hoarsely. "I'll tell you why. He's got something

up that big sleeve of his! We gotta be on our toes or first thing you know, The Shadow will be dropping in on

THOSE words were not only a correct prophecy; they were to be actually realized, precisely as Chink had

The roof that topped the loft building was as secluded a spot as any in Manhattan. Herk and Dave,

exchanging guard duty, were commenting on that very fact. Situated among lower structures, in a poorly built

The roof was surrounded by a high parapet. Poking their chins above the rail, the two crooks chuckled at their

"I don't see why Chink's jittery," gruffed Herk. "Nobody can come up from the cellar; and it's a cinch

"Not unless he's got wings;" returned Dave. "Look down there, Herk, at the next building. It's two stories

The two walked to the trapdoor that led to the stairs. Dave went down. Herk paused to strike a match on the

tinned surface of the closed trapdoor. He was lighting a cigar, preparatory to taking over lookout duty.

It was then that motion occurred above the roof of the adjacent building. In their survey of that roof, the

lookouts had ignored a high water tank at the rear corner. Mounted upon high metal stilts, the tower came

Running from the conical peak of the water tank was a thin line of blue steel wire; a mere thread,

unnoticeable in the darkness. That stout but slender wire circled a bulgy ornamental post at the corner of the

parapet, on the roof that Herk guarded. The wire returned at a downward angle, to a steel strut beneath the

The double track, affording both access and departure, had been put there as the result of a clever boomerang

throw while Dave was on lookout duty. The boomerang had carried a thin cord around the post and back to

its sender. The string had been used to draw the wire into its present fast position.

The present motion at the top of the water tank was caused by a figure that detached itself from darkness. A

weirdly cloaked shape swung out into space. Gloved hands gripped a tiny, wheeled trolley. The little car slid

smoothly, swiftly along the taut wire, carrying its tall passenger through the air beneath it.

Herk heard the sing of the wire. He halted where he was; tightened his grip upon a revolver. The sound was

evasive. It ended while Herk stared about. All that the lookout heard was the final fade of an echo that toned

like a tuning fork. Herk looked in the right direction at last; but he saw no one.

The blackcloaked figure had blended with the darkness at the corner post. He was across the rail, crouched

If the crook turned away, he would spell his own finish. If he approached the corner post, he would

accomplish the same result. The situation was a tossup, with Herk due to lose in either case.

AS it happened, Herk decided to approach the rail. He was positive that the sound had come from beyond the

roof edge. He wanted to take a look below. He chose the corner, because it promised two easy views, each in

The crook's lookout duty ended six feet from the corner. Blackness rose like a living thing. Before Herk could

aim, long arms shot forward. Gloved fists clamped Herk's neck, choked the words that came from the thug's

throat. Only Herk's soundless lips phrased the name of the attacker whom the crook had recognized:

Soon, Herk lay face downward in the corner. He was silenced by a tight gag. His legs were bent up in back of

him. A crisscrossed leather thong held his wrists and ankles, almost in a bunch. That mode of binding was

both quick and efficient. On his face, Herk was as helpless as a beetle on its back.

The night glow of Manhattan showed the figure that stalked toward the trapdoor. Tall, lithe; The Shadow was

clad in his familiar cloak. His head was topped by a slouch hat. The downturned brim hid all features except

In one fist, The Shadow held a massive automatic. Beneath his cloak, a second .45 was in readiness for an

Lonehanded, The Shadow was faring downward to settle scores with Chink Rethlo and the murderer's tribe

At the bottom of the steps, The Shadow found the closed door. In darkness, he turned the knob, so

imperceptibly that no one on the other side could notice it. After that, The Shadow eased the door outward,

Through a narrow crack, The Shadow saw Chink Rethlo. The jaundiced public enemy was growling from his

chair, saying more about the bulls. This time, he was specifying one police officer.

"Joe Cardona! Huh! That palooka thinks he's big time since they made him an inspector. Look at what this

The Shadow's second gun was out. His shoulder was ready to jam the door open. He could see some

members of Chink's crew. They were in suitable position. Then came a sudden change that made the layout

"Listen, you bozos. I hear the elevator coming up. It must be Morry, bringing up some news."

With that, Chink rose from his chair. He gazed toward the elevator and the others did the same. Crooks were

totally off guard, so far as The Shadow's door was concerned. Shifting, the blackclad avenger could just see

His attack was ready. The opening of that door would be the zero hour. Morry, in the elevator, would be the

only one to see The Shadow's door swing open. The fellow's shout would turn Chink and the other crooks

Zero hour. The time for the longawaited thrust. Another stroke from The Shadow, straight to the heart of

The elevator had stopped. Its door clanged open with a vicious sweep. Inside were six headquarters men,

their guns bristling toward the center of Chink's living room. Foremost in the unexpected group was a

The Shadow could not fire. His bullets might have reached the elevator. He was fortunate to have a

metalsheathed door between himself and the barrage that came. Cardona and his squad lost no time in

With his shout, Chink whipped out a revolver. His pals grabbed for their guns. The only one who brought his

gat to aim was Chink, and be never pulled the trigger. Cardona beat him to the shot. Hard upon the bark of

Chink Rethlo toppled, riddled by the bullets of the law. Other crooks staggered, clipped by police shots. The

Piling into the room, detectives straddled Chink's dead body and clamped handcuffs on sprawling wounded

At the elevator door, Joe Cardona stood triumphant; with revolver leveled, he stood like a watchful hawk

while his men gathered in the members of Chink's marauding band. This was a real catch, one of the best that

Cardona had ever managed. The ace had a right to feel proud. In fact, Joe's chest could have swelled more

Beyond the opposite door, keen eyes were viewing the scene that meant more than it showed. The law had

done more than capture Chink's renegade outfit. The law had plucked that crew from the grasp of The

Long had The Shadow anticipated that conquest. Tonight, he had brought his plans to a point of certainty. In

such endeavors, The Shadow was invariably hours, sometimes days, ahead of all others. This time, the law

Joe Cardona had won the victory entirely on his own. The Shadow's zero hour had brought him absolutely

THE SHADOW did not begrudge Cardona's victory. Often, in the past, The Shadow had stepped back into

darkness to let Cardona take credit for deeds that were actually the cloaked fighter's own. What did concern

It meant that The Shadow's efforts had suddenly become unnecessary. He could hang his cloak and hat upon

the rack; use his automatics as wall trophies. Either that, or seek some other city where crime ran rampant

Those were disconcerting prospects, even for The Shadow. Added to those future possibilities was a present

dilemma. Right now, The Shadow was in a spot that he did not like. He would rather be circled by a squad of

aiming killers than found, like a skeleton in a closet, behind a door in Chink Rethlo's headquarters.

Cardona had spotted the door that hid The Shadow. Joe was striding across the room, to see what might be

beyond it. The Shadow eased the door shut; let the knob turn. The latch had behaved properly when opening;

With a leap, Cardona crossed the living room, whipped open the door and aimed his gun up the darkened

stairs. He shouted a command to halt. Instead, The Shadow gave a quick upward kick that reached Joe's gun

Joe went plopping back into the living room. His gun was pointed upward when he fired. The bullet found

Leaving the crooks to the headquarters squad, Cardona took to the stairs, in pursuit of his unknown

Reaching the roof, The Shadow closed the trapdoor and hooked a metal catch in place. That would hold

Reaching the corner of the rail, The Shadow slashed the thongs that held Herk. As the fellow squirmed to rid

his arms and legs of their numbness, The Shadow clipped the gag. His automatics beneath his cloak, The

As the thug gulped at sight of The Shadow, he received a greater surprise than his release. Into Herk's fist The

Shadow shoved the crook's own gun. For a moment, Herk gaped at the weapon; then, with a snarl, he raised it

Spun clear about, the roof guard went staggering toward the trapdoor, trying to catch his footing. He sagged

to one knee; he came up half groggy. He was facing the trapdoor when it bounced upward under a

Coming out upon the roof, Cardona saw Herk. He took the crook for the adversary on the stairs. He thought

that Herk's effort to raise his gun was the challenge of a thug who wanted battle. Joe piled upon the groggy

Herk could not ease his fall. The back of his head thwacked the roof. Knocked cold, the last thug was

WHILE Joe was pounding upon the already helpless thug, The Shadow went over the rail. The wire whined

Cardona did not hear the faint sound. Looking around his own roof, Joe saw that it was deserted. He hauled

It took The Shadow only a short moment to cut the wire and haul it inward. He descended through his own

building and watched an alleyway out back. Soon, a cellar door came open from the adjoining building.

Cardona and his squad appeared, marching more prisoners ahead of them. They had captured "Plugger"

After the police had gone, The Shadow headed through darkness. A few blocks away, he entered a parked

limousine. Through a speaking tube, he spoke in quiet, leisurely tone to his chauffeur:

During that ride, The Shadow divested himself of black cloak and hat. He placed those garments in a special

drawer that pulled out from beneath the big rear seat. Passing street lights showed the limousine's passenger

His features were hawkish, almost masklike; that face was the wellknown countenance of Lamont Cranston.

In his present guise, The Shadow passed as a millionaire member of the exclusive Cobalt Club. Lamont

Cranston, wealthy globetrotter, was frequently seen at that club when he happened to be in New York.

It had been some time since Cranston had appeared at his club; and there was a definite reason for his arrival

there tonight. As Cranston, The Shadow wanted to meet a man who would probably be there. That man was

In his analysis of tonight's episode, The Shadow had decided that something unusual must lie behind it.

Chink Rethlo had mentioned that the law had recently "knocked off" some smalltimers. The Shadow was

Some of the smalltimers were bigger than Chink had cared to admit. The Shadow could cite three definite

"Kid" Lombroy, head of a budding dope ring, had been arrested in Chinatown with the goods on him. Perry

Candreth, blackmailer de luxe, had been cornered while threatening a wealthy Californian. "Goggles"

Barchew, a fake peddler who specialized in warehouse robberies, had found his whole crowd surrounded by

Oddly, The Shadow had planned to handle Lombroy as soon as the dopester received his next shipment. He

had arranged a special trap that would later have snared Candreth. The Shadow had also started out to pick up

In each case, there were elements whereby the law could have managed to get in ahead, although the chances

had been remote. The raid of Chink Rethlo's hideout was something different. The Shadow had not foreseen

the slightest possibility that the law could have figured where Chink was located.

This final instance proved that there must have been something unusual about the others. As he rode along,

WHEN Lamont Cranston appeared in the Cobalt Club, he immediately encountered Ralph Weston. The

police commissioner was exuberant over the law's latest triumph. He gave Cranston details that Cardona had

"Congratulations, commissioner;" remarked Cranston, in an indifferent tone. "Your department is most

"Fortunate!" snapped Weston. "You talk like the newspapers, Cranston. They never give the police proper

"In hunting big game in the jungle," observed Cranston, in reminiscent tone, "we sometimes use native

beaters. They correspond to your plainclothes men. Sometimes we use tame animals as decoys, like your

"There are times, though, when we obtain the services of a man who knows the habits of the beasts we seek.

He advises us. We find the tigers or the elephants. We shoot them and take the credit. That credit actually

Weston stared. Meeting Cranston's gaze, his look became sheepish. Then, brusquely, he asked his friend to

come with him. They entered the commissioner's official car. Weston gave an address; as the car started, he

"You've guessed it," admitted Weston. "A secret that we have kept for months. The expert in question is

named Gannet Seard. He is a wealthy chap who has a giant intellect. Gradually, he has taken up criminology

"Seard has cracked a dozen crime cases in the past five months. Three cases involved criminals of

considerable ability. And this discovery of Chink Rethlo is the greatest of all.

"Seard has always asked if I have kept matters secret. He has also reminded me that he would like to meet

any person who either guessed or learned that a masterbrain was behind the law's recent activities.

WESTON turned on the dome light and drew out paper and pencil. In his enthusiasm, the commissioner

wanted to show Cranston how Seard had worked out the Rethlo case. The steps seemed simple, when Weston

Seard had figured that Chink had a hideout convenient in Manhattan, because of the recurrent robberies. He

had studied data concerning Chink's past. An exracketeer, Chink had liked luxury; and his underlings had

enjoyed comfort also. Chink always chose a lavish, penthouse apartment when he was in the money.

Since he had ample time and cash to prepare for his recent crimes, Chink according to Seard's logic

would have prepared a hideaway in lavish style. At the same time, it would require certain specifications,

Seard had first worked on a map of Manhattan, eliminating various areas. He had next studied individual

buildings from their descriptions. Those had been cut down to a few that would suit Chink's probable tastes.

Old records had produced forgotten facts. The original owner of a certain loft building had placed his own

offices on the top story, with a special elevator running up from the basement, so that the rest of the building

could be locked at night. At present, the building was little used. The owner who had recently purchased it

Recognizing that the cellar would be guarded against outside attack, Seard had adopted a unique plan for

reaching the topfloor hideout. He told the police to carefully tap the wall on one of the middle stories.

Cardona and his squad managed the job. As Seard had foreseen, they found wires that supplied current both

They had sent a signal to the elevator operator. Morry, coming up in the cage, suddenly found the elevator

halted and darkened, when the dicks cut off the juice. Through the wall, they had overpowered the operator.

The police had completed the upward trip, which had resulted in the death of Chink; the capture of others.

Descending to the basement, they had experienced no trouble with Plugger's cellar crew. The pillbox had

been placed to repel outside invaders; not persons who came down by the elevator.

Oddly, Weston revealed these facts to one who had already analyzed them on his own. Cranston, as The

Shadow, had made progress similar to Seard's. The only difference was that The Shadow, playing his lone,

"You should be," chuckled Weston "for another reason. I have made some deductions of my own, that

Seard does not know about. I can tell you something that he has not chosen to reveal; but which I have pieced

Cranston's face was quizzical beneath the glow of the dome light. In confidential tone, Weston inquired:

"You have heard of The Shadow, that mysterious personage who has helped us overcome crime?"

"Of course," he said. "As I recall it, Cranston, you have actually seen The Shadow, on certain occasions."

Weston smiled in anticipation of the surprise that he intended to produce. In a sense, it was a surprise, even

"You have heard of The Shadow. You have seen him. Tonight, Cranston, you will meet him!"

THE existence of Gannet Seard was remarkable in itself. The fact that Weston took the man to be The

Shadow, made the surprise a doublebarreled one. Nevertheless, Weston's belief was logical enough, when

On a few previous occasions, The Shadow had come very close to anticipating police moves designed by

Seard. It was possible that he had been seen in Chinatown, and at the warehouse, when the law thwarted

Tonight, The Shadow had encountered one of Chink's men, Herk, upon the roof of the loft building. Perhaps

Herk, when captured by the police, had blabbed something about The Shadow. Such reports would naturally

strengthen Weston's theory that Seard was The Shadow. Since Seard had arranged the law's campaigns, he

Considering these angles, The Shadow found himself whetted to the prospect of a meeting with Seard. That

episode was not long delayed. Within ten minutes, Weston's big car pulled up in front of a quiet,

A frail, tiredfaced servant admitted Weston and Cranston. The fellow wore black clothes and answered to

the name of Havlett. He led the way to a huge library at the rear of the ground floor. The room's walls were

lined with books; and all about were stacks of volumes that had not been classified.

As the visitors picked their way through irregular passages between the piles of books, Weston remarked:

"A curious collection, these books. They deal with all sorts of unusual subjects, criminology included. Seard

has another stack room in the cellar. A secretary comes here every day, to classify the volumes."

There was a tiny elevator in the hall that led off the library. They entered it, and the car pumped slowly

upward. Passing the second floor, Weston pointed through a glass window in the shaft door. Cranston saw a

"Seard makes tests in there. Sometimes he brings in experts to help him. He is a busy man. That is why he

AT the third floor, Havlett led the way directly to Seard's study. There, The Shadow viewed a most unusual

There was little attempt at orderly arrangement. Seard had apparently gathered all the objects that particularly

On the right was a table that bore a chessboard. A few chessmen were on the squares; beside them were

sheaves of paper covered with pencil marks, that indicated an unfinished chess problem. Close by the table

In the far corner were four display cases, their glass tops tilted at an angle. They contained a collection of rare

coins. There were books on coins near the showcases; but numismatics was not Seard's only hobby. Big

At the left of the room was an oddlooking radio set, with a screen above it. Not content with shortwave

The room was furnished with all sorts of oddities teakwood chairs, goldcrusted taborets, tapestries of

Persian origin. Oriental rugs lay thick upon the floor, so plentiful that they overlapped each other.

In the inner corner at the left was a desk, which looked as though it had been pushed there to make room for

the rest of the furnishings. In the cramped space behind the desk sat Gannet Seard.

The man was as unique as the abode that he occupied. Seard was longlimbed and thin; almost spidery in

appearance. His shoulders were narrow and sloping; they supported a head that seemed to tax their strength.

Seard's chin started up from a narrow point; though his cheeks were hollow, his face widened to

Above, Seard's head continued its bulge, so that his forehead was high and his cranium broad. The whole

Some persons might have considered Seard's head a deformity; but not Weston. To the police commissioner,

that skull bulged with brains. In fact, Weston looked to Cranston, hoping that his friend would have the same

Cranston's eyes did show considerable interest, which could have been taken for mild admiration. He noted a

bookcase beside Seard's desk. It contained the books that Seard liked most. Some of those pertained to

criminology; others related to deep mathematical subjects, including such theoretical matters as the fourth

Seard's desk was strewn with papers and books. He was busy when the visitors entered. His topheavy head

was bobbing up and down. He was too engrossed to see the arrivals; but he recognized Weston's voice when

SEARD tilted back in his chair. He saw Cranston; Seard's large eyes glistened, his wan lips smiled.

"Ah, commissioner," rumbled Seard, "a friend of yours, who suspected that such a person as myself existed!"

Weston was awed by Seard's prompt deduction. He introduced Cranston. Seard reached across the desk to

shake hands. While his visitors seated themselves, Weston repeated the remarks that Cranston had made at

"A good analysis," commended Seard. "Criminals do resemble big game. Sometimes, though, they hide like

ostriches. Chink Rethlo, for instance. His head was buried; but his feathers were in view."

"Inspector Cardona just called me," said Seard. "Unfortunately, he did not find Rethlo's loot. It was not at the

"You doubted that it would be there," recalled Weston. "You told us that the swag would probably be

Seard's lips pursed. He reached to the wall and pulled up a small, blocky machine that was mounted on

"This is my perfected lie detector," stated Seard. "It makes other devices of the sort look primitive. It registers

the effort behind every lie. It tells whether questions were hot or cold. From its records, I can prepare suitable

questions for another quiz. I can work to the very answers that a person is seeking to hide. Step by step, this

Seard showed enthusiasm as he spoke; but he finished his statements with a shrug.

"I intended to use my detector upon Rethlo," he added. "Unfortunately, the man is dead. The prisoners

"I told Cardona to take Rethlo," he reminded. "Such a stroke, I said, would end all fight from the others.

"Of course," rumbled Seard. "Still, Cardona might have acted less hastily. After all, Rethlo is dead.

Furthermore, commissioner, you have forgotten a reminder that I gave you. I said not to let the newspapers

"My business is to give advice," he declared. "I aid the police department. I do not run it. I am doing the best

I can. By tomorrow" he indicated the papers on his desk "I may have come to some conclusion

regarding the hiding place where Rethlo put his loot. I hope that my finding will not be too late."

PAPERS crinkled near Seard's telephone. A small black cat had jumped up from a taboret. Seard petted the

kitten and let it stroll about the desk. Havlett entered at that moment and set a tray on a little table that he

"You will pardon me," said Seard, to the visitors. "I am having my supper. Not a large repast crackers,

cheese, a bottle of milk. Ah, Havlett" Seard smiled up at the servant "I see that you brought today's

milk. Remember that such is to be the rule. You can clear the chessboard, Havlett. I shall not use it again

"No," replied Seard, "He is about due again. I am glad that you reminded me, commissioner."

The Shadow recognized the name of "Creep" Hoyran. The fellow was a dangerous murderer who had been

captured a few years before. Found to be criminally insane, Creep had escaped the electric chair, to be

committed to an asylum instead. As Cranston, The Shadow gave no indication that he had ever heard of

Noting his friend's questioning expression, Weston explained who Creep Hoyran was. He added facts,

"Mr. Seard was the man who produced evidence of Creep's murders," said the commissioner. "A few weeks

ago, Creep escaped from the asylum. Since then, he had been trying to take Seard's life."

"Once with a bomb," chuckled Seard. "It came in a package so beautifully wrapped that I suspected it at once.

"He tried to shoot you, later," recalled Weston. "From the roof of the house across the street."

"Yes," nodded Seard. "When I was in the front room on this floor. I frequently sit there, quite conspicuously,

beside the big window. Long ago, I recognized that I made an excellent target at that window. That was why I

had it equipped with bulletproof glass. That was a little detail unknown to Creep Hoyran."

Still chuckling, Seard reached for the bottle of milk. He started to remove the cap that had the day of the

week printed on it. There was a little tab of cardboard in the center, that made removal of the bottletop easy.

This tab came up without effort. Cranston saw it; but Seard did not, for he was looking toward Weston. All

While he again spoke to Weston, Seard looked about the desk. He saw a small empty ash tray. Nodding in

reply to a remark from Weston, he poured a little of the milk into the ash tray and set it in front of the black

Weston looked puzzled. He had never seen Seard do that before. Seard wagged a forefinger for silence. They

watched the cat lap the milk. The result was surprisingly swift. After a few licks, the kitten rolled dead.

"HAVLETT!" The servant came over as Seard called. "Take away the cat. Also dispose of this milk. Bring

Cranston sat calmfaced, while Weston gaped along with Havlett. It was the commissioner who finally

"Of course," declared Seard. "Poison, this time. The fellow is insanely clever!"

"Not yet, commissioner. His efforts intrigue me. A sound brain" Seard tapped his bulgy forehead "can

always outwit a demented mind. This is a fascinating game! It gives me firsthand information concerning an

insane murderer's methods. Creep Hoyran will harm no one else while I am alive. His fixation is settled upon

Rising, Seard plucked a heavy cane from beside the desk. He stepped forward, leaning heavily upon the stick.

Smiling, he remarked that he had work to do; that he would prefer to resume his conversation tomorrow

As they rode away in the commissioner's car, Weston bubbled over Seard's uncanny cleverness. He talked

about the incident of the milk. He repeated his belief that Gannet Seard was The Shadow. Cranston heard the

Weston was right. Seard a man whose debut as a crimesolver had accomplished remarkable results. In a

sense, he was The Shadow's rival. That thought was spurring The Shadow onward to new action.

Before this night was ended, The Shadow intended to gain an important goal before it was uncovered by

UNTIL his visit to Seard's, The Shadow had been confident that Chink's swag had been at the bank robber's

luxurious hideout. Chink was the sort of crook who held on to all he grabbed. True, Weston had not

Cardona would not have found the swag without a search; moreover, Weston had been too full of talk about

Seard. Such a minor matter as the recovery of a million dollars in stolen funds was the sort of thing that the

selfimportant police commissioner was likely to forget. Weston was the sort of person who would not hear

Seard had not forgotten that the police were after a million dollars: Nor had Joe Cardona. That was the main

thing that they had discussed during their telephone conversation. It proved that Cardona must have made a

It proved something else. Seard had figured Chink Rethlo differently than had The Shadow. Both had picked

the hideout. The friendly rivalry stood equal on that point. But Seard had gone The Shadow one better, in

Soon after Cranston had left Weston at the Cobalt Club, a bluish light appeared in the corner of a pitchblack

room. Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. Cloaked in black, the master of mystery was considering

the subject of Chink Rethlo's swag. That meant a brief review of Chink's methods.

Chink had not finished with crime, when death caught up with him. If he had, he would have left the city,

instead of keeping to the hideout. Chink was wanted; but he had ways of getting out of town. Since Chink

had remained in Manhattan, the stolen money must also be in New York. Chink would not have shipped it

At his hideout, The Shadow had said. Somewhere else, Seard had decided. Seard was right where The

Shadow was mistaken. No need to waste time over that point. Granting that Seard had made a better

deduction, The Shadow's course was to regain lost ground and this time beat Seard to the find.

Beneath the blue light, The Shadow had sheaves of data that pertained to Chink Rethlo. Not a pal of Chink's

was important enough to have held Chink's complete trust. From a file, The Shadow brought other papers. He

What The Shadow wanted was the name of a man who might have known Chink, and who was of the caliber

to hold the crook's full confidence. It was a big order; and that made it all the easier. Like Chink's hideout, it

One by one, The Shadow eliminated names, until his finger rested on that of "Blackey" Brenby. Of all the

BLACKEY BRENBY was a bookie, whose place of business was an obscure cigar store. Blackey, himself,

was only there at intervals. He made occasional trips out of town, never for longer than a day or two; and he

left his betting business in the hands of capable assistants. There were always times, though, when Blackey

Blackey was a man that Chink could have contacted secretly after each big job. It would have been easy for

the bank robber to leave his full spoils with the bookie. With that for a starter, there was another reason why

Blackey Brenby, whatever his shortcomings, had never crossed a friend. There were times when huge sums

of money had been entrusted to his care. Once, when a racketeer had died from bullet poisoning, leaving a

few hundred thousand dollars of supposedly legitimate funds, Blackey had kept the money while lieutenants

That was only one instance. Every time that Blackey had been custodian of any cash, he always turned it back

to the owners. He collected a fee, of course; anywhere from five to ten percent. Blackey simply deposited

Chink Rethlo had played the races. Chances were, he knew Blackey. Perhaps the bookie's integrity concerned

only the keeping of money, not the source from which it had been obtained. Chink could easily have sounded

out Blackey. If he had, the odds were fair that Blackey would have made the undercover deal.

If so, the funds could be in one spot only: the cellar under Blackey's cigar store. No one would ever think of

entering there. The place contained nothing worth stealing; and Blackey was well liked in the underworld.

From Chink's standpoint that cellar, with Blackey in charge, could certainly have been an ideal location for

The Shadow was ready to leave the sanctum. As he clicked out the bluish light, a tiny white spot glowed from

the wall. The Shadow reached for earphones. A quiet voice spoke; it was Burbank, who served as The

Burbank had word from Clyde Burke, a reporter who worked for The Shadow. Joe Cardona had left

A laugh whispered through the sanctum. Sinister, weird in its shivering echoes, that mirth marked The

Shadow's departure. Tonight, the laugh told more. While Weston and Cardona were talking matters over

and hoping for advice from Seard by tomorrow morning, The Shadow might be reaching the very goal that

This time, The Shadow foresaw success. The law would recognize his skill, not Seard's, as the factor that had

INSTEAD of using his limousine, The Shadow rode to his destination in a special taxi, handled by a driver

Moe Shrevnitz who was one of The Shadow's lesser agents. A limousine would have been noticed, cruising

It took an avenue; then the back street. The front street looked preferable. The Shadow ordered the cab to

continue. At the next avenue, the taxi followed the line of an overhead "el" structure. There was a station at

the corner; at the foot of the steps, an enterprising newsboy was selling his wares.

The newsie's shouts proclaimed the death of Chink Rethlo. The bulldog editions of the morning newspapers

had probably been on the streets for half an hour. Blackey's cigar store was closed, which meant that he might

be out. If so, there was a slight chance that Blackey had learned the latest news.

When the cab again approached the front of the cigar store, it slackened speed. There was motion between the

cab door and a blackened stretch of sidewalk; but that motion was indiscernible. No eye could have discerned

By the time the cab was two blocks away, The Shadow had opened the door of the cigar store. The double

Blackey's place looked like a regular cigar store, under the wary gleam of The Shadow's searching flashlight.

At the back, however, it had a rather commodious office, which the bookie used for his actual business. The

office had the sort of safe that one would expect to find there. It was an antiquated boxlike affair, with faded

Plenty of visitors had seen the interior of the safe. Blackey used it in the daytime, but he never left important

books there. The bookie either put those in a safedeposit vault, or slept with them. His cash was regularly

deposited in an allnight bank, although Blackey frequently carried large sums of money on his person.

That accounted for the stronglocked door that The Shadow found in the hall. It was the entrance to

Blackey's upstairs apartment. There was a cellar door, too, and it was strongly locked. The Shadow took

longer with it than he had at the front door. Once the cellar door was open, The Shadow made an expected

The inside of the door was sheathed with metal. Its battered outer surface of plain wood was simply a blind to

make it look unimportant. Blackey's cellar promised to produce the find that The Shadow wanted.

THE cellar itself was stonewalled; ancient but strong. Its windows were so narrow that no one could have

squeezed through them. They had bars that looked simple enough; but close inspection showed their strength.

There was a door that led outside. It was at the back of the cellar and obviously opened to some rear

courtyard. That door was more heavily plated than the one at the top of the cellar steps. With these

indications, The Shadow made a prompt search for some special hiding place in the cellar.

He found it, in the most remote corner. Deep in an old coal bin, The Shadow came to a wooden backboard

instead of a stone wall. He studied every board, noticed that all were tonguedandgrooved. One board had a

The Shadow removed it and found it to be a short one. He inserted a steel pick. After a short probe,

something clicked. The Shadow slid aside the wooden barrier. It was metal on the other side.

What interested The Shadow more was the space that he uncovered. It was the secret vault room that

belonged to Blackey Brenby. The space was fairly wide, but quite shallow. The reason for its short depth was

The Shadow had to stoop to enter the cavity. In that hollow, musty space the slightest echo was audible. That

aided The Shadow in his painstaking work. His own efforts were silent; but there were slight clicks as he

The Shadow could sense each tumbler's fall. Blackey's vault yielded with an ease that would have dismayed

its owner. The door opened smoothly under The Shadow's careful pull. Inside, the vault proved shallow. It

Certain papers were worthless to The Shadow. Others were those that he wanted. Out came stacks of

securities, bundles of bank notes. The Shadow recognized them instantly as loot from Chink's bank robberies.

The Shadow had hit the truth. Blackey Brenby had kept the swag for Chink Rethlo.

Estimating the various bundles, The Shadow had accounted for approximately a quarter million when he

reached the finish of the hoard. Oddly, he had come across spoils from all three robberies, which indicated

The Shadow gained an answer to that riddle when he checked on the bundles. He learned that all the

securities were nonnegotiable. The currency consisted of bills with known numbers, all of which had been

Obviously, all the worthwhile wealth had been removed. The man who had taken it had saved himself the

trouble of taking away funds that could not be unloaded. That smacked of hasty flight by a rogue who did not

It also proved that The Shadow had reached his goal too late. One by one, the cloaked investigator replaced

EXTINGUISHING his flashlight, The Shadow turned to leave the hidden vault. This partial find would be

welcomed by the police. The law could have its tipoff from The Shadow, instead of Gannet Seard. The

Shadow had gained crumbs where he had hoped for a whole loaf; but at least he had won a race against his

Events were to deny The Shadow even that small satisfaction. As he moved stealthily through the darkness of

the empty coal bin, a sound reached him. That slight scuffling noise was due to bring a chain of

consequences. For the present, The Shadow regarded it only as a lone indication.

Footsteps, shuffling warily across the cellar floor. Some one was in this cellar, blindly approaching the very

place where The Shadow waited. That sneaking prowler, whoever he might be, was due for a surprise.

THE footsteps ceased. The man in the darkness was blundering badly. He did not find the coal bin; in fact, it

became evident that he was not even looking for it. The Shadow heard him groping hazily, as if fishing for a

A chain clinked as a hand tugged it. From the coal bin, The Shadow saw a chunky, darkfaced man whose

features were flat and pudgy. He recognized the fellow as a tough "torpedo" named "Pug" Sheedy. Once Pug

had been a gang lieutenant, with a crew at his command. That job had ended when The Shadow had settled

The chunky crook was carrying a revolver; but his hand was lowered. Pug squinted all around the cellar; he

grinned for a short while, then looked uncertain. He saw the entrance to the coal bin and tiptoed toward it.

Pug had called for Blackey. Instead, he was confronted by blackness. Not ordinary, lifeless gloom, but

blackness that materialized into a living form. From the coal bin emerged a shape that swung solidly into the

light. Before a snarl could come from Pug's soured lips, the crook was squinting at a cloaked foeman whose

The name gulped from Pug's throat. He saw the sinister eyes beneath the slouch hat. He felt the powerful

loom of the automatic muzzle that yawned upon him like a tunnel of doom. Hissed words came from

"I ain't stagin' no job," he pleaded. "It was on account of Blackey that I come here! Blackey Brenby! Maybe

Pug was trying to square himself; and his effort showed earnestness. He let his revolver clatter to the floor.

"I can prove it," he insisted. "Honest! It's stickin' here in my coat pocket the note Blackey sent me!"

The Shadow saw a protruding wad of paper. He stepped forward; as Pug shrank back, The Shadow used his

free hand to whisk out the paper. Deftly, he unfolded it with one hand. Raising the paper, he studied it

The paper was a racetrack dope sheet. Typed across a blank space was the message:

The Shadow recalled an old typewriter with ragged purplish ribbon, upstairs in Blackey's office. The message

looked as if it had been typed on that machine. That indicated that Pug had actually received it. The torpedo

would have had no purpose in typing the message himself. He had not expected to meet The Shadow. If he

"It was shoved under my door," explained Pug. "I found it when I come in tonight. Blackey's always been a

Pug paused. He nervously tried to lick his lips; but his tongue was dry. He waited for The Shadow to speak.

THE SHADOW was considering the possibilities of the message. It had a certain face value. Taken step by

step, it indicated that Blackey Brenby had picked up one of the first newspapers that reached the street.

Blackey's deal regarding the bank loot had probably been made solely between himself and Chink. Nothing

had been included of taking care of Chink's followers, in case of their leader's death. Therefore, Blackey

could have regarded himself as the rightful heir to Chink's swag. Perhaps that proviso had even been part of

Then Blackey could have experienced the jitters. He might have pictured a chance visit from some survivors

of Chink's outfit, who had luckily learned where the swag lay. Blackey's natural cautiousness would have

Pug Sheedy was a natural choice. The fellow was capable in his tough way, but too dumb to suspect that

Blackey would be walking out with more than a half a million dollars. While The Shadow considered this

likelihood, Pug did some more talking. The Shadow's cold silence was making the crook uneasy.

"I didn't figure nothin' much in back of it," said Pug. "Maybe some lug owed Blackey for a marker, an' talked

tough about it. Blackey's an old bozo; he'd be scared, seein' as he carries a big bank roll. He thought of me,

because I hang out close to here. I was out; but I'd left the light burnin' an' Blackey thought I was in. I got the

Pug lowered his left arm to tap his side pocket with his elbow. The Shadow could hear the jangle of the keys.

"I come in by the front door. Then down here into the cellar. I left" Pug hesitated "I left the other guys out

The Shadow did not need Seard's improved lie detector to know that Pug had departed from the truth. All was

straight, up to Pug's final statement that he had left his pals out front. That did not fit with Blackey's request;

nor with Pug's natural method. Pug had slipped badly when he admitted that he had pals with him. The

By this time, Pug's outfit was closing in, wondering what had become of him. The crook was trying a bluff, to

STEPPING forward, The Shadow crumpled the message and thrust it back into Pug's pocket. A gesture of the

automatic sent Pug backing toward the front of the cellar. The Shadow sidekicked the torpedo's fallen

revolver out of Pug's reach. With a quick turn, The Shadow saw the back door of the cellar; an instant later,

The barrier was unlocked. Pug had seen to that when he reached the cellar. He had hoped The Shadow would

not notice it; for the door was almost on the edge of the lighted area where Pug stood helpless. When thugs

More battle for The Shadow. He knew how to fix the odds in his own favor. The cornering of Pug's band

would be a good occasion upon which to summon the law. With a thrust of his gun, The Shadow forced Pug

farther to the front of the cellar. The crook cowered at a spot where he could scarcely be seen.

The Shadow took a position between the rear door and the stairs. He was obscured in darkness; but Pug dared

no move. He knew that The Shadow was watching him. When Pug's pals came, any shout from their leader

Slow minutes passed. There were scuffling sounds upstairs. Crooks halted above; then decided to wait. The

rear door began to grate. It opened slowly inward. Ratty faces poked themselves dimly into the fringe of light.

They left the door wide open. Three in all, they approached the light. One gave a low call. There was a stir

from the stairs. Other thugs were coming down. The Shadow shifted in the darkness. By a perfect side shove,

Pug, more scared than ever, had backed farther into the front darkness. His crew was looking for him. One of

the first three was poking into the coal bin. Newcomers two of them were almost at the bottom of the

Half a minute more, they would be with the others. The stage would be set for The Shadow's taunting laugh.

Before the half minute had fairly started, the whole scene changed. The sudden shrill of a police whistle

cleaved the air of the back alleyway. Almost like an echo came a distant whistle from the front street.

POWERFUL flashlights burned from the alleyway. The Shadow had scarcely time to spring for darkness

before the whole back doorway was bathed in light. Pug's five thugs swung about to start a gunfire. Blasts

came from Police Positives; thugtriggered revolvers answered from the center of the floor.

The thugs by the stairs were aiming. They missed their fire by a scant half second. The Shadow had hurled

himself upon them, risking that path as the one way to avoid bullets. Like a sweeping avalanche, he bowled

One rolled clear; leveled his gun upward to fire futile shots at the cloaked attacker. The Shadow was on the

stairs before the thug knew it. Police were pouring in through the rear door. Their flashlights turned for the

The gunman who had aimed at The Shadow was turning, along with his pal, to battle the law. Both sprawled

as they fired. The officers had beaten that flank attack, thanks to The Shadow's temporary elimination of the

Sweeping up the stairs, The Shadow was away before the light revealed him. He had served the law; but

again, he was in an undesirable spot. As at Chink's rendezvous, he was unneeded. Once more, The Shadow

He gained a slight break by reaching the top of the stairs before police surged through from the cigar store.

Diving across the hall, ahead of sweeping flashlights, The Shadow rolled into Blackey's empty office.

Bluecoats and plainclothes men poured down into the cellar. Sounds of firing became spasmodic. The law

had won a quick victory. Two detectives stopped at the office door; they flicked a light around the walls.

Alone, Shelvin found the office light. He poked into a closet; it was empty except for one of Blackey's old

overcoats. The dick came over toward the desk. He leaned across to look at Blackey's old safe. From the

space between the desk and the wall The Shadow rose beside him, like a shape that came from nowhere.

Shelvin neither heard nor saw The Shadow. His first impression was that a hurricane had sneaked indoors to

snatch him. The dick was hoisted bodily from the floor, caught in an expert jujutsu hold. Whirled across the

room, Shelvin finished with a somersault into the closet. The door slammed shut upon him.

It was three minutes before the astonished detective figured where he was. Though unhurt, he was

bewildered. In those three minutes, Kerry, standing at the darkened front door, was treated to an incident that

puzzled him later. Kerry heard heavy footsteps; felt a friendly thwack upon his shoulders. He heard a gruff

"All jake, Kerry! Cardona told me to put in a call to headquarters. You're to stick here."

There was a bluecoat in the doorway. It was Kerry who nudged him aside, so that Shelvin could pass. Soon

afterward, The Shadow, elusive in the darkness, was gliding from the area where the police had scored

The conference between Weston and Cardona had resulted in more than a mere routine report from Joe. It

had been topped by a telephone call from Gannet Seard. The bigbrained crime solver had kept on working

Duplicating The Shadow's process, Seard had struck upon the connection with Blackey Brenby, whose name

must have been among the numerous files that the police had turned over to the investigator. As a result,

Again, the fruits of The Shadow's labor had been plucked by the law. The public would acclaim Joe Cardona

as The Shadow, himself, had intended. But with Weston, Cardona and others who stood high up, there

would be no recognition of The Shadow's prowess, as there used to be, so often in the past.

THE law had put the clamps on crime; but the trail ended with Blackey Brenby's cellar. Even Gannet Seard

was stalled at that point, as Joe Cardona reluctantly admitted. It was a few days later when Cardona

mentioned the fact at headquarters. Joe confided to his assistant, Detective Sergeant Markham.

"It was a tough break," growled Joe "Blackey taking a runout, the way he did. He knew the town was

Cardona crinkled stacks of paper that lay upon his muchused desk. They were reports from other cities. No

word of Blackey. There were printed flyers, with pictures of the missing bookie; those had gone throughout

"Blackey guessed what was coming," grumbled Cardona. "He was fixed for it. You know how he used to

leave somebody in charge of that store of his, while he took a trip to the country. Well, Markham, that's what

Markham nodded. Among the police exhibits was a sheet from the register of the Westward Hotel. Blackey

had checked in there a few days before the raid at Chink's. No one knew when he had gone. Blackey had not

checked out; he had left an old suitcase containing some odd clothes that furnished no clue.

"What does Big Brain think about it?" questioned Markham, cautiously. "You know the guy that's figured

"Seard is stumped," returned Joe. Then, as an afterthought: "No, I shouldn't put it that way, Markham. Seard

never gets stumped on anything that's properly in his line. But this search stuff, like the dragnet, comes in our

"All Seard wants is a recent clue, even if it doesn't make sense to any one else. But we haven't got one.

Blackey just wasn't seen, those last couple of days. The boys running his place had their own keys. They

locked up as usual. They didn't know anything about the cellar. You could have floored them when we told

Cardona rose, shaking his head. He stomped to the door and paused, long enough to add:

"I'll bet that if any one does figure where Blackey's gone with that half million, it will be Seard! I'm going up

to his place now. The commissioner is coming there with his friend Cranston. Nobody's to know where I am."

In the corridor, Cardona ran into Clyde Burke, the reporter from the New York Classic. Clyde wanted news,

so Joe referred him to Markham. On the way out, Cardona chuckled. Burke was one fellow who would never

That was a bad guess. Clyde already knew. He had received word from The Shadow, through Burbank.

WHEN Cardona reached Seard's, Havlett conducted him to the second floor laboratory. Methodically, the

servant remarked that Mr. Seard was performing some experiments with the kitten that had died from the

poisoned milk. In the lab, Joe found Seard wearing white gown and rubber gloves.

The bigheaded man was standing beside a small vat about half the size of a laundry tub. The vat contained a

muddylooking liquid; and Seard was watching a test tube filled with the substance, which was bubbling

When Joe spoke, Seard waved for quiet. He drew off a rubber glove and made notations on a sheet of paper.

Extinguishing the burner, he poured the sizzling liquid back into the vat. He smiled as he gathered up papers

"In there." Seard indicated the vat. He pulled a handle to release a plug. "Don't fish for it. You won't find it.

The last of the liquid gurgled down the drain. The answer hit Cardona. He questioned:

"Yes," replied Seard, "and the test worked. These experiments prove that traces of poison will be present

despite an acid treatment. Also certain compounds that indicate that the body of an animal was dissolved."

"Say!" exclaimed Joe. "Those tests would be a great way to pin it on a guy that got rid of a human body with

an acid bath! Maybe we could bring a stiff up from the morgue, so you could repeat the test."

"Unfortunately," interposed Seard, "any one using an acid treatment would drain off the liquid just as I have

done. I performed the experiment purely for my satisfaction, inspector. It would be practically worthless in

Seard had turned toward the door. He smiled when he saw new arrivals who entered. To Cardona, Seard

Joe was telling enthusiastically about Seard's test while they went up to the third floor. When they reached

Seard's study, he motioned them to chairs. Instead of going to his desk, Seard paced the room with his heavy

cane. He stopped beside a small fireplace and sat on the arm of a heavily upholstered chair.

"I take it that there are no new traces of Blackey Brenby," expressed Seard, in his rumbled tone. "We can

therefore proceed no further with that case, at present. I regret that situation; but I feel that no one, in my

As he finished speaking, Seard looked toward Cranston. His expression indicated that he was stating his case

merely for the benefit of a neutral party who was present. Nevertheless, Seard's eyes were large when they

Actually, Seard might have been speaking as one crime investigator to another. Perhaps his keen insight had

told him something that even Weston did not know: that Lamont Cranston had more than a passing interest in

It was even possible that in Cranston, Seard recognized the personality of a remarkable personage of whom

he certainly had heard. If any one could be keen enough to identify Cranston as The Shadow, that person

WHATEVER the deeper thoughts in Seard's great mind, the criminologist did not state them. Instead, he

rose; turned to the wall and pulled down a roller blind that proved to be a chart. The surface was covered with

many names that had been written in careful hand. Among the dozens listed were those of various

underworld characters. The names were blocked off; connected by lines. The whole effect was something like

Seard leaned forward on his cane, his left hand gripping its knobby top. He raised his right forefinger and

"Tonight, we shall begin a quest as important as the capture of Chink Rethlo! I shall reveal the workings of

the secret racket ring that has already forced payments from a dozen wellknown enterprises!"

Cranston showed interest along with Weston and Cardona. The racket ring was a recent development that

threatened to reach ominous proportions. Instead of putting heavy pressure on single lines of business, the

Motionpicture houses, taxicab companies, apartment houses, public garages, and laundries had all felt its

evil hand. Demands, however, had been gentle. Light threats, small contributions had prevailed. Behind that

Many business men preferred to pay, since the terms were not heavy. Those who refused had been subjected

to annoyances, rather than hard attacks. Thus, before the law had realized it, the racket ring had taken in a

huge profit; and the perpetrators, all well hidden, were ready to show their teeth. Soon, it would be bad

"These names are ones that I selected." Seard held to the chair back with his left hand, while he used his cane

to point to the chart. "These are the men that I have picked as the ringleaders."

He weaved a course from name to name; some were persons known as bad characters, others were merely

doubtful. At times, Seard explained the links. In each case, his analysis seemed good. The surprise came

"Louis Devoort," pronounced Seard. "Proprietor of the Rickshaw Club. Secretary and treasurer of a small and

seemingly insignificant organization known as the Allied Night Club Association. That organization, I

"You mean Devoort heads it?" demanded Weston. "That he has charge of the million and a half that the ring

"I do," affirmed Seard. "What is more, I believe that Devoort holds complete records of all collections!"

CRANSTON'S face showed no change when he heard the statement. With The Shadow's keenness, he

The racket ring was so widely involved, its collections so numerous, that its bigshots would have to depend

upon accurately kept books. Whether or not Devoort was top man, he could certainly be both secretary and

"Devoort just took a trip to Havana," recalled Cardona. "He's due back tomorrow, on the Santiago."

"Which means," added Seard, "that there will be a meeting of the ring leaders tomorrow night, at the

From his pocket, Seard passed a typewritten paper that Cardona recognized. It was a police report on the

Rickshaw Club, similar to a ream of others that concerned Manhattan's bright spots. It had been supplied to

"I have studied this," stated Seard. "The Rickshaw Club has a special entrance, which leads directly to the

office. It is well guarded; and the outside man is a former private detective named Tinker Crowth."

"That's just the trouble," nodded Cardona. "Tinker is smart. He knows enough to stall a raid. We'd have no

right barging into the Rickshaw Club without evidence. Tinker wouldn't let us by. Neither would the bunch

"Not a chance," broke in Cardona. "Tinker wouldn't turn stoolie. Any job he holds means big dough. He'd

Seard turned to the chart. He found the name of "Tinker" Crowth and pointed to it with his cane. He followed

"Tinker's girl," remarked Seard. "Listed in a file as a shoplifter. Something that Tinker does not know about.

You can persuade her to use her ingenuity in drawing Tinker from his post at the last minute."

Finished with Peggy Kelder, Seard moved back to Tinker's name; then along another line, to the name of Jake

"Buker is listed as a stool pigeon,", reminded Seard. "Reports show that you have not used him much. You

Cardona nodded. Jake Buker had been a runner for shyster lawyers. Later, he had aided in the fencing of

stolen goods. Rather than go "up the river," he had turned stoolie. Jake had been too good a bet for ordinary

tasks. The police were holding him until they had a tough case to crack; one wherein Jake could procure the

"Tinker and Jake were pals;" declared Seard. "They still are. Jake is closemouthed; he would not have

talked to Tinker. If Tinker needed a substitute, at the last minute, and Jake happened to be at hand "

Seard did not finish. Cardona was on his feet, turning to Weston. Enthusiastically, Joe exclaimed:

"It's surefire, commissioner! What's more, I can swing it! Mr. Seard has figured it from start to finish! We

SEARD loosened the chart and let it roll up above the fireplace. The conference was finished. While Blackey

Brenby remained missing with the swag from the bank robberies, Seard had found the way by which the law

Tonight, The Shadow had witnessed Seard's method of crime analysis. Like the others present, The Shadow

was impressed. He was ready and willing to follow Seard's lead, since it would aid the law.

This time, The Shadow would be prepared to furnish complete cooperation. He had observed the one flaw in

Seard's methods. The bigbrained crime investigator calculated far ahead; but expected everything to click

like clockwork. Being a man of an inactive nature, Seard did not fully allow for events that could happen

The death of Chink Rethlo was an example. Seard had requested Cardona to take the killer alive; and Joe had

probably boasted that he could. It hadn't worked. Tomorrow night could furnish similar consequences. The

Shadow could picture smart crooks getting rid of incriminating records when Joe and his squad entered.

Destruction of Devoort's ledgers would ruin the raid. No matter how much money was found in the night

clubowner's safe, the law would have nothing. Racketeers would laugh; with mock politeness, they would

There was a way, however, to preserve the victory that Seard had outlined for the law. That way would be

The Shadow's. His entry, ahead of the police, would accomplish the required result. Crooks would wait,

With twentyfour hours in which to plan his own campaign, The Shadow foresaw double success: his own

and the law's. Weston, thinking Seard to be The Shadow, would probably give him all the credit. Seard,

The Shadow and his rival had teamed, this time, to win sure victory. Unfortunately, there were hidden angles

in the game that Seard had not analyzed in his discussion; and which The Shadow, in turn, had not yet

Those were to appear tomorrow night. Seard, waiting at home for news from the police, would be safe when

the trouble struck. The Shadow, in the thick of things, would encounter the real hazard.

CARDONA talked with Jake Buker the next day, and the stoolie listened. Jake was a smooth customer,

sallowfaced and wiselipped. His eyes had a droopy habit of staying half shut; but they opened when

"You've got it straight, Joe," admitted Jake. "Me and Tinker Crowth are pals. He's one guy I'd never

"Not a chance! The way I figure it, I'm not doublecrossing Tinker. He don't owe nothing to those bigshots

That suited Cardona. The ace did not care how the stoolie looked at the ethics of the proposition, so long as

Jake fulfilled demands. Having sold himself on the arrangement, Jake furnished suggestions.

"It'll be a cinch," he said. "Tinker wanted to get me in over there at the Rickshaw Club. I turned down the job,

thinking you'd be wanting me for something else. Anyway, I know the other lookouts. They won't think

"Every night the bunch takes over, along about six o'clock. They go through the place right, to make sure

nobody's in there. Then they get posted. Only, nine o'clock is about the time the big boys drop in on

Cardona liked the information. He wanted more suggestions, particularly regarding Jake's preliminary

"That's easy," assured Jake. "I'll drop in on Tinker at quarter to six. He'll be putting on his soup and fish; even

the bouncers have got to wear a tux at the Rickshaw Club. Right then is when you have the moll call Tinker.

CARDONA'S next stop, was at Peggy Kelder's apartment. The girl answered the door; turned white when she

saw Joe. The job made Cardona feel cheap. Jake hadn't worried Joe, because the fellow was a crook. But the

Peggy was a nicelooking kid; and Joe remembered that her record was a trifling one. Necessity had forced

her to the shoplifting tours; and she had lived down the short term that she had served on the Island. Her blue

"You cheap flycop!" she snapped. "Trying to get me to sell out the best guy. I ever knew! Go ahead, tell

Tinker all about me! He'd forgive that; but he'd never forget it if I made a sap out of him!"

Cardona took the verbal barrage. For a comeback, he stole a leaf from Jake's notebook. It began to work.

"Don't get it wrong, Peggy," insisted Joe. "We've got nothing against Tinker. I was a fool to mention that

Cardona was shaking his head when he reached the door. Peggy had started to look worried. Sympathetically,

"You've got grit. You may be needing friends after tonight. Count me as one of them."

"It sure will," affirmed Joe, grimly, "unless some one pulls him off that job. We're going through; and we

"Tinker's with the wrong bunch," he said soothingly, "only he don't know it. He wouldn't believe it if I tried

to tell him. Or if you told him, either. Jake saw it; he's Tinker's pal. He's doing his part on account of Tinker."

Cardona had not told Peggy that Jake was a budding stool pigeon. The argument clinched matters. With Joe's

"Sure, we'll square it." Joe meant what he said. "Only there won't be any squaring needed, if we put it over

AT quarter of six that afternoon, Jake Buker stopped in to see Tinker Crowth. Two minutes later, the

telephone bell rang. Tinker had just brought his tuxedo from the closet. He answered, in a brisk voice.

Peggy was on the wire. Jake heard a rapid conversation. It didn't make much sense, even when Tinker said

something about the Grand Central Station. When Tinker hung up, though, Jake got the story.

"It's Peggy," said Tinker. "Telegram from New Haven, saying her sister was hit by an auto and may be dead

"That's not the worst of it. Like a sap, she called that greasy guy she used to know Fish Birkins and asked

him to drive her up to New Haven. I asked her if the train's had stopped running. She said she didn't know.

Bawling over the telephone; said she couldn't go alone. So I told her to meet me at Grand Central. We're

Tinker nodded prompt reply. He tore a corner from the cardboard that he pulled from his tuxedo shirt. He

"Take over the outside job at the Rickshaw Club, Jake. This note will fix it. These glad rags of mine will fit

Jake was grinning when Tinker left. Cardona had given Peggy a great alibi. The telegram had actually come

from New Haven; but Joe had seen that it was sent. If Peggy could keep up the weeps until the train reached

THE Rickshaw Club was a place with a pretentious front and a back that resembled a fortress. It had been

made over from an old mansion; it boasted a grand staircase in its ample hallway. There were bars and dining

rooms on both the first and second floor; but the upstairs was used chiefly when the crowd overflowed below.

Soon after seven o'clock, some diners appeared upstairs. They were recognized by Lamont Cranston as he sat

Seard was right; these fellows made up the racket ring. They were waiting to see Louis Devoort. The

proprietor of the Rickshaw Club had not yet appeared. His boat was just about due to dock.

Some faces were absent. Nevertheless, The Shadow did not believe that Seard was mistaken. He caught a

chance remark that included the words "nine o'clock"; and decided that it meant the meeting hour. The others

A half hour later, Lamont Cranston left the Rickshaw Club. He did not descend the staircase. Instead, he

became another being. From a darkened spot in the hallway, just past the deserted cloakroom, Cranston

Slouch hat on his head, The Shadow reached an obscure stairway that led to the third floor. It had a locked

door. That did not deter The Shadow. Soon, he arrived on the third floor, to find the place a storeroom.

Looking down from a tiny window, The Shadow saw what he expected. The first floor was larger than the

second; as a result, a roof extended along a line just below the second floor windows. Since the front of the

building was part of a solid block, that courtyard roof could only be reached from the back.

A trip through to the courtyard from the rear would have been a bad mistake. Jake Buker was expecting the

police; not The Shadow. On that account, The Shadow preferred his present route. Edging through the

At the windows, he discovered something. One opened into a tiny passage. The Shadow learned that by

forcing the sash in noiseless fashion. His hand, extended inside, used a flashlight to find the inner wall.

Going back along the passage, he found a spiral staircase that appeared to lead all the way down to the

basement. Evidently, Louis Devoort had arranged this secret way to reach his own office. That explained why

In fixing the second floor, Devoort had ordered the passage, confident that no one would note the slight

discrepancy. The only bad feature was the window, halfway along. Devoort had seen to it that the window

was fitted with frosted glass. The window had been an unusually tight one, when The Shadow forced it.

Going to the back of the passage, The Shadow came to a solid wall that marked the back of the building.

Probing along the inner wall, tapping with silent thumps of his gloved fingers, The Shadow discovered a

The outer door of that closet opened into Devoort's office. The Shadow had reached the best possible spot

THE SHADOW opened the closet door and looked into Devoort's office. It was a square room, well

furnished, and it was lighted in preparation for the coming meeting. Evidently persons working at the

There was a door that came from the front, near the upstairs bar. That was where a few huskies always

congregated. They would stop any persons who tried to enter from the front. There was another door, at the

back of the room. The Shadow knew that it led to the rear stairway, guarded by at least three watchers, who

Only one guard usually Tinker; tonight Jake stayed on outside duty below. That was not suspicious;

many places of this sort had a man out back. The others, however, were wisely kept inside, so that they would

Devoort's office had a small vault in the wall opposite the closet door. The Shadow approached the vault and

studied it carefully. It was a good one; but obviously secondhand. It would take time to open it; but the vault

For the present, The Shadow decided to leave the vault alone. He heard a slight sound outside the front door

of the room. He was back in the closet instantly, with the door almost closed. Two of the racketeers from the

dining room came into the office. They had finished dinner; they preferred the office to their table.

The two helped themselves to some of Devoort's cigars. Soon a third arrived; they began to chat, but their

It was after half past eight when the rest appeared; with the last comers The Shadow saw a portly, mustached

man whom he recognized as Louis Devoort. Door closed, the crooks were ready for their parley.

There was a momentary lull. In it, The Shadow caught a scraping sound that echoed. It was from the passage

that he had used to reach the closet. Easing to the open wall slide, The Shadow heard whispers. They came

from the front of the passage. Some one spoke the word "typewriter"; there was a heavy, muffled clank of

The "typewriter" was a machine gun! Thugs had brought it up the spiral staircase from the cellar. The secret

passage was to serve some ominous purpose, if any one tried to use it. Until this moment, The Shadow had

held a key position. With the passage at his back, he had no worry concerning inroads from either the front or

That situation was changed. The arrival of a death squad had made the meeting room a formidable trap.

Chances were that guards had increased at both the office doors. Shooting through from the closet could

Crooks had closed a threeway snare; and in the very center of that mesh they held The Shadow!

MANY fighters in The Shadow's position would have made a prompt break before their presence was

discovered. That was not The Shadow's method. He remained where he was, in the darkness of the little

closet. He knew that crooks would expect The Shadow at any time, if they expected him at all.

Were these preparations actually for The Shadow's benefit? The Shadow doubted it.

Any leak from police headquarters would not have posted crooks for a visit from The Shadow. Machine guns

in the secret passage were definitely a poor plan to make against the law. If the racketeers knew that the

police were coming, they would do one thing only: destroy their books and enjoy a good laugh when Joe

The answer was that crooks expected neither The Shadow nor the police. They were concerned with some

Of that group, one man had definitely designed the secret passage for his own protection. He was Louis

That gave the situation an unusual twist. It was something that Seard had not outlined; something that The

Shadow had not pictured as a likelihood. It was an odd circumstance Devoort coming back from Havana, to

The Shadow advanced to the closet door. He worked it an inch outward. Devoort was at his desk, looking

from one to another of the half dozen men who faced him. His expression mingled anger with amazement.

"Everything was fine," he gruffed, "when I left here. When I get back, you act like I'd pulled something!"

"You think I walked off with it," grumbled Devoort, "That's why you had me covered in Havana. I expected

it when I went there, just for a little trip. All the while, the mazuma was here with the books, proving that I

He turned to the vault. Working the combination, Devoort soon had the door open. He brought out the books,

planked them on the desk. He dug deeper; then crouched motionless. When he turned, his face was drawn.

REVOLVERS bristled as Devoort was hauled to the desk. One racketeer, a toughfaced fellow known as

"The whole sock was here," insisted Devoort. "I I figured there were too many of you that you'd be

"Yeah?" broke in Pink. "Well, tell us this! How could anybody have breezed in here? We've coveted the

"Maybe" Devoort pointed to a shaded window "maybe they came through there. Or or "

"We can tell you how! We got wise to plenty, just from tipoffs here and there. Somebody squawked about

that secret passage of yours. We got the dope today, and found it! Thought you could make monkeys out of

us, huh? Well it's the works for you, Devoort! Make a break for it if you want. We got torpedoes waiting for

"I can explain!" protested Devoort. "The passage was put in years ago! When this place was a speakeasy "

"But you owned it. You could have told us about the passage, when we elected you. You held out! So you're

A low hiss halted Pink's command for death. Racketeers wheeled; their gun hands remained motionless,

numbed as they still pointed toward Devoort. The Shadow had stepped from the closet; he was holding two

Clustered racketeers were helpless. They knew from the burn of The Shadow's eyes that one shot toward

Devoort would begin their slaughter. The Shadow wanted their dethroned leader as a prize.

A clock showed ten minutes of nine. The Shadow moved his guns forward. Revolvers clattered to the floor.

The rest were reaching their arms upward, like Devoort. Steadily, The Shadow let the minutes tick by. Crooks

They never guessed that they and their records were to be given to the law. The Shadow intended that their

THE only man who half welcomed the changed situation was Devoort. Death had looked certain for him, at

the hands of Pink and the other racketeers. It might not come from The Shadow. Like the others, Devoort

knew that some of gangdom's best or worst had felt the heartstabs of The Shadow's bullets; but they had

Devoort was no killer. Nor had he ever threatened any one with death. That, in his opinion, put him on a

better level than his companions, for The Shadow had surprised them in the preliminary stage of rubbing out

a victim. Devoort guessed that The Shadow wanted the money that had been in the vault. He showed bravado

"I didn't take the cash," declared Devoort, his eyes steady. "It was here, every dollar of it, just as the books

Snarls of protest came from the rest. They were all trying to save their hides, including Pink. The Shadow's

"I didn't start this racket," pleaded the mustached man, his tone less confident. "They counted me in because

"That's where we were screwy," broke in Pink, forgetting himself. "The guy that piped that along the

These new remarks, added to old ones, proved something of real interest to The Shadow. By the "grapevine,"

the racketeers did not refer to the mouthtomouth telegraph system that constantly sent rumors through the

Starting with little organizations, this racket ring had merged into a chain system, pyramiding upward, raising

its bigshots higher. The choice of Devoort as financial secretary had added a capstone to the pyramid.

Individual members of the inner circle had lieutenants they could trust; those, in turn, had lesser toadies.

That grapevine had raised Devoort. It had also overthrown him. The discovery of the secret passage had stood

Looking from face to face, The Shadow sought one man whose pose might reveal him as the crook who had

first located the passage, then tapped the vault. That crook would have had good reason to undermine

Pink Dellick was the first one that The Shadow eliminated. He had used his big mouth too much. The real

doublecrosser who had robbed the others, along with Devoort, would have to be some one who had said

The Shadow did not need Seard's improved lie detector on this occasion. Devoort guessed what The Shadow

"None of this bunch was around here in the old speak days," admitted Devoort. "None of them got me to go

to Havana, either. That was a trip I always take. I went there as usual, so people wouldn't be wondering why I

DEVOORT gulped short. The Shadow heard it, just as he completed a survey of the circle. He did not look

toward Devoort to see the direction in which the portly man stared. That was unnecessary. Another sound

It was a groan of a hinge, back of The Shadow's left shoulder. Some one was pushing open the closet door, a

trifle too fast. Only Devoort had seen the motion; for he alone faced directly toward that door.

The Shadow whirled, spinning leftward. The move carried him clear, just as a pair of thugs sprang into the

room. They had come forward from the machinegun squad in the other end of the passage. They saw The

The first of the pair was clear from the closet. The second was just coming out of the doorway. The Shadow's

Reversing toward the front thug, The Shadow's first stride was a long, hard kick against the door.

As The Shadow fell upon the foremost foeman, the door whacked the second. Both crooks went down. The

first took a gun blow; he was out to stay. The second, landing on his knees, had blocked the door. He made a

Pink and the other racketeers were snatching up their revolvers. Devoort went under the desk. Shots barked

widely all from the rear half of the room; for the racketeers had chosen that direction as The Shadow was

Shots that were to count were due, from The Shadow's guns. For position, The Shadow whirled toward the

closet door, slashing the rising thug with a backhand swing, on the way. His laugh came in sinister mockery,

In the midst of his taunt, The Shadow halted. The rear door of the meeting room rocketed inward. Cardona

and his squad poured in with shouts. The Shadow restrained his fire. Pink and the racketeers thought that he

Police revolvers had the bulge. Racketeers sprawled. The front door ripped open. Facing it, Cardona and his

men repeated a fire in which The Shadow joined. Hidden by the halfopened closet door, The Shadow was

not seen by the police. They thought that their fire, alone, was dropping the startled entrants. Actually, sight

From beneath his desk, Devoort saw The Shadow. Unable to witness events, the portly man did not guess

how badly the racketeers had fared. Squeezing out, Devoort came from the front of the desk, hoping to reach

That foolhardy rush disposed of the one man whose life The Shadow was anxious to preserve. Devoort

crossed the path of a final volley between the police and sagging crooks at the front door. From the floor,

Pink Dellick managed two last shots at Devoort's toppling figure. A detective socked Pink, too late.

Devoort was dead. His chance to piece information for either The Shadow or the law way a matter of the

CARDONA was pointing to the closet door. He guessed that some one could have gone through there. Again,

The Shadow was hampered. This time, he had figured more definitely in the battle; but efforts for the law had

passed unwitnessed. He had a route for departure, but it led to a machine gun, still manned by a crew.

The moment that he was through the rear of the closet, he slid the back wall shut. In the darkness of the

In the echoing darkness, that thick tone could not be recognized as belonging to any one in particular. The

crooks who heard it thought that the shout came from one of the pair that had gone ahead. They needed no

more urging. Not bothering with flashlights, a trio of lurkers abandoned the machine gun and dashed forward.

The Shadow moved to meet them, stopping just short of the frosted halfway window. With a low drive, he

met the three as they came into the dim light. Crooks went sprawling in a row, their guns bouncing from their

With long strides, The Shadow reached the machine gun. He did not have to use it. Cardona had yanked open

the rear wall of the closet, that The Shadow had left loose for him. Joe's flashlight blazed along the passage.

Crooks, fumbling for their guns were met by a sharp fire from Joe and an accompanying detective. Two

sprawled. The third gained aim. Coiled below the top step of the spiral stairs, The Shadow saw the crook

outlined in the beam of Cardona's flashlight. An automatic spoke. The last thug jolted and fell.

By the time Cardona reached the abandoned machine gun, The Shadow was at the bottom of the spiral stairs.

The cloaked avenger was taking a sure route out into the night, leaving another victory to the law.

Once more the triumph was hollow, as at Chink's and Blackey's. The racket ring was broken; the proof of its

activities found. But the funds mentioned in the captured books could not be restored to the victims who had

Wanted wealth was gone. Seard had not uncovered the whole story. The spoils of the racket ring should have

been in Devoort's vault; but they were not. Still, Seard's giant intellect could not be discredited. His analysis

certainly had been a complete one, as far as the names upon his chart permitted.

The Shadow's rival would have new angles to consider, when visitors called upon him tomorrow night.

WHEN Weston and Cranston called the next night, they found Seard seated in front of his fireplace staring

mournfully at glowing embers. Havlett announced the visitors; Seard shook himself from his reverie,

He arose; but moved only a short way from his chair, for his cane was over by the desk. As he shook hands,

"Failures?" exclaimed Weston. "You ferreted out Chink Rethlo! You uncovered Louis Devoort!"

"But their spoils are still missing. Do not shake your head, commissioner. I am being fair to myself. The

Rethlo case was excusable. I foresaw that Chink would not be holding the swag. I failed, though, to trace

"That was our fault, Seard," he said. "Cardona's, because he did not take Chink alive. Mine, because I let the

news get out too soon. If those early newspapers had not carried word of Chink's death, Blackey would not

Seard appeared mollified. His big head nodded; but gradually stopped its motion. Again, his expression

"I fell short on the Devoort case," he declared. "That was not excusable. Cardona tells me that the books of

the racket ring show one million six hundred thousand dollars in profits. That was too much for the law to

"Devoort was the head of the ring," insisted Weston. "You had every reason to believe that funds were in his

"Every reason except that the money was not there," returned Seard, dryly. "No, commissioner, I should have

anticipated that situation. All that I can say in excuse, is that I shall be more thorough in the future."

Weston looked at Cranston, saw that his friend was impressed by Seard's willingness to hold himself at fault

for incomplete analysis. Most investigators would have minimized the matter of the vanished funds. Not

CONVERSATION lagged, for they were waiting for Cardona, not yet arrived from headquarters. Seard saw

Cranston looking at the chessboard, where the men were set in readiness for a game. Others had admired the

carved ivory pieces; the board, with its black squares of ebony, its yellow squares of unstained mahogany.

In Cranston's gaze, however, Seard detected the look of an expert chess player. He invited the visitor to play a

As they sat down, Seard smiled. He drew a meerschaum pipe from the pocket of his smoking jacket and filled

it with tobacco from an oilskin pouch. Weston, drawing up another chair, indulged in a smile of his own.

Chess, he knew, was the game that appealed to giant intellects. To a brain like Seard, it was meat. This would

be interesting, watching Cranston fall for Seard's neat snares. Fortunately, Cranston was a chap who could

The opening moves were conventional, completed without much delay. After that, the game slowed. Seard

puffed his pipe steadily as he thought out each move, taking a full five minutes on one occasion.

Cranston, on the contrary, mapped his moves while Seard pondered. Almost every time that Seard completed

a move, Cranston followed immediately with his own. That convinced Weston that the victory would be even

more rapid for Seard. Cranston was showing far too little study for an expert chess player.

From Weston's slight knowledge of the game, it was apparent that matters stood about even; but that would

soon cease. Seard castled; the move after, he thrust a bishop into a key position. He was ready to clinch the

Cranston countered with a knight threat against Seard's queen. Seard moved the queen to sidestep it. One of

Cranston's rooks came into play. Seard began to look anxious. On the next move, he lost his bishop. He made

an attack; Cranston countered with an exchange of pawns and finished by capturing one of Seard's knights.

Weston gaped. The game was going to Cranston! Almost in offhand fashion, he was overwhelming the

There was a long pause while Seard studied the board. He shook his big head groggily; for, to Seard, a chess

game could involve the same physical energy as a fist fight. He looked punchdrunk.

Passing a hand across his forehead, Seard found moisture. He looked about the room, as if seeking a reason.

The study was blue with tobacco smoke. Whatever the mixture Seard was smoking, it certainly could produce

Seard took that as an excuse for a delay. He called to Havlett, who was at the door.

THE front window had a metal frame. It was divided by a central post; each half swung outward on a hinge.

The two swinging portions clamped at the center post. Havlett opened the one on the left, to a distance of

A breeze whistled in from the night air. The servant fixed a special lower clamp, to keep the opened window

Fresh air stimulated Seard. He concentrated upon the chess game, trying to recoup his losses. His moves were

intricate; but Cranston's attack still functioned. Seard lost two pawns; he suddenly captured one of Cranston's

In sacrificing the rook, The Shadow opened the way to his best stroke. He took Seard's queen. Weston knew

that the game was in the bag. He scarcely noticed the moves that followed, until a chuckle came from Seard.

Weston stared. The game still seemed Cranston's. Seard did not have enough strong pieces left to win the

game. Nevertheless, he pointed triumphantly toward his king, hemmed in a corner of the board. To Weston,

"Not quite," chuckled Seard. "My king is safe, unless I move it. By the rules of chess, I cannot move the king

into check. Therefore, the game is a stalemate. With all Cranston's strength, he can do nothing. The stalemate

Weston looked at Cranston. He saw his friend's eyes still on the board. Seard was right; he had pulled himself

Havlett appeared with Cardona. Seard forgot the chess game. He asked if Cardona had brought new clues.

Seard pulled down a rough chart. It had a few names on it; but there was plenty of blank space. Seard

"Each case is the same. We narrowed down the hunt." He spread his arms, brought his hands downward

obliquely until they met. "We reached a focal point. We succeeded with Blackey. We were wrong with

"This Devoort case is tough," said Joe. "Maybe he took that dough to Havana. Some one of the dead bunch

like Pink Dellick may have grabbed it. Or an outsider could have muscled into it. It's a tough case, all right,

"It is a new case," corrected Seard. "We are looking for an unknown criminal. I must have names and more

names those of every one who could possibly have figured. Even then, the material may be too scattered.

"Bring him here," interposed Seard. "Any one who thinks that he can give real information will be vitally

important. I fear, though, that our game is lost." He was frowning; but his expression showed a dry smile as

CRANSTON was still studying the board. Seard received his cane from Havlett, and walked over beside his

Cranston gave a slight smile, as Seard began to remove the pieces from the board. When they were gone, the

"I see that you admire the board," remarked Seard, to Cranston. "Let me hold it in a better light. At that

Laying his cane aside, Seard picked up the board from its table. Slowly he led the way to the lamp, where he

Seard's back was against the opened window. He had the board in front of him. Cranston's fingers were

rubbing the ebony, when Seard caught a sound that he alone was close enough to hear. It came from outside

the window. With a quick swing, Seard turned, half sprawling against the window frame. As he twisted, he

shoved the chessboard in front of him, gripped with both hands. It served as an immediate shield.

Through the window slithered a driving knife blade that drove clear through the chessboard until the hilt

stopped it. The wooden shield had served its purpose, stopping the knifepoint short of Seard's heart.

Cardona shouted the name as he reached the window. Pulling Seard away, Joe jabbed a gun through the open

space. He was too late to fire. He saw a hunchy figure diving into a window of the next house, from a front

"Do not pursue him," chuckled Seard, stepping toward the fireplace. "He has done no more than ruin my

chessboard. I had intended to discard it for one with squares set in ivory, a better contrast to the black ebony."

"And I have moved into a stalemate," chuckled Seard, with a glance at Cranston. "Ah, commissioner! You

"And that will prove his undoing. Look, commissioner. First, a rifle shot from a distance. Second, a bomb

sent in from outside. Third, close enough approach to poison my milk. Fourth, a thrust in through the window

"Creep will actually enter here," he decided, "or come close to it. Let us allow him to do so. I assure you that

I shall escape harm. Once he has come that far, he will be utterly bold. He will come again; may even roam

"Why not?" Seard's chuckle was a pleased one. "That night, I shall be absent. You can send men here to trap

The scheme pleased Weston; and Cardona added his approval. Both agreed to wait for Seard to settle the time

when Creep was to be snared. Weston insisted, though, that he and Cardona should make nightly visits. That

To Cranston, the largeheaded man said: "Will you come also? Perhaps we may have opportunity for other

"Let us hope," said Seard to Cardona, "that you will bring some tangible facts concerning Louis Devoort.

Perhaps some person may furnish fresh information on the racket ring. Meanwhile" he waved a long arm

toward his desk "I shall be working on other files. There is still crime in this city. I shall analyze another

AFTER a trip to the Cobalt Club, Cranston said goodnight to Weston. A while later, The Shadow appeared

in his sanctum. There he considered the evening's events. The chess game had ended in a stalemate. That was

Seard had pictured stalemates also in the case of the bank loot that had disappeared with Blackey Brenby; and

the funds of the racket ring that were gone from the keeping of Louis Devoort. He had also compared his own

Those games could be likened to chess; but the comparison was not absolute. There could still be ways to

locate the swag that Blackey had held; to trail the fate of the racket ring funds. There was also another

Gannet Seard might be overconfident of his ability to forestall the thrust from Creep Hoyran.

There could be startling consequences from those games that Seard had placed in stalemate class. When those

developments came, The Shadow would be ready to make use of them, much to the astonishment of his rival,

THE next afternoon, The Shadow was in his sanctum before dusk. His table was strewn with reports from

agents. Those papers contained lists of names. The Shadow was checking over data that concerned Louis

Along with the records of the racket ring, the police had acquired others that pertained to the business of the

Rickshaw Club. Some of those had been important enough to be stowed in Devoort's safe. Others were from

Oddly, one type of list was absent. It was the one that contained the names of patrons who visited the

Devoort, so some of his employees stated, had kept such a list. He always wrote down the name and address

of any one whom he considered to be a worthwhile customer. A person important enough to gain Devoort's

To The Shadow, the absence of the list was highly significant. Undoubtedly, the raider who had made away

with the funds was a person who had met Devoort; perhaps one who had found some excuse to talk with the

dead nightclub owner in his office. Knowing of the files, the raider had wisely taken them along with the

Devoort had changed his head waiters often. Only one had been on the job for longer than six months; and he

had a poor memory for names and faces. The head waiters had not helped the law with their testimony; at

least, not directly. They had, however, given a lead that The Shadow regarded as important, when he learned

They had named a former head waiter, who had quit his job soon after Devoort left for Havana. The man's

name was Homer Lane. The circumstances of his resignation were not suspicious. Lane had simply been the

First, he had been injured in an automobile accident. While in the hospital, he had received a sum of money

from some anonymous source. It was supposed that wealthy patrons of the Rickshaw Club had decided to

help him out, through pure sympathy. On the strength of the welcome gift, Homer Lane had gone away for a

In Lane, The Shadow saw the needed link. All day, his agents had made inquiries, seeking the fellow's

whereabouts. The last address that The Shadow gained was one in Philadelphia. He had sent Harry Vincent,

AT the precise moment that The Shadow was summing the slim facts regarding Lane, Joe Cardona was

There was a meeting scheduled for the evening, when Commissioner Weston would arrive with Lamont

Cranston; but Cardona had decided to pay Seard a visit before dinner. Joe had gathered a mixed list of names,

Outside Seard's mansion, Joe eyed the gathering dusk in suspicious fashion. He was hoping for a glimpse of

Joe decided that it was too early for Creep to show up. Perhaps he might not come at all. There had been

intervals between Creep's other attempts to murder Seard; although the time spaces had lessened.

Joe still felt fidgety about letting Creep stay at large. Nevertheless, he was forced to admit that Seard was

right in his analysis of the murderer's intent. Creep would not bother with other crimes until he had disposed

If Seard felt so confident that he could balk all of Creep's thrusts, he was welcome to do so. Just so long as he

remembered his promise to give the police their whack, when the time ripened for Creep's capture.

Cardona found Seard in his study. The spidery investigator received the new list with thanks. He began to

review the names and the comments that went with them. They included those of some persons who had

Seard was seated at the fireplace, merely because the chair there was comfortable. The weather was too warm

for a fire. Only ashes lay on the hearth. For twenty minutes, Seard studied the lists, while darkness deepened

Both harkened. There was no repetition until Seard had asked Joe to bring other papers from the desk. Just as

He stroked his pointed chin with thumb and fingers until they came together at the tip. Cardona remarked that

"Let Creep come," said Seard. "I shall not worry. He may be due tonight; but whatever his new design, he

RECEIVING the papers that Cardona had brought from the desk, Seard looked for a name and found it. He

Cardona wondered why Seard had suddenly chosen the exhead waiter. Seard explained.

"I had supposed," he declared, "that you could jog the memories of Devoort's staff. Instead, they have given

you only a few names of the chief patrons at the Rickshaw Club. The key may lie in such names. Only Lane

With that, Seard put away the papers with an air of finality. He had come to the same conclusion as The

"If Lane took that dough," remarked Cardona, "he'll be as tough to locate as Blackey Brenby."

"Agreed," returned Seard. "But I do not credit Lane with the robbery. I merely believe that he can name the

right man. Probably, without knowing that the person is the crook who outwitted the racket ring."

Cardona arose to go. Seard leaned in his chair, to listen for new sounds. One came, but there was nothing

Seard reached for his cane, to walk across the room. To save him the trouble, Cardona answered the call.

It was for Joe. From headquarters. It brought exciting news, that Joe relayed to Seard the moment the call was

"Lane's in town!" exclaimed Cardona. "He just called headquarters! Instead of holding him on the wire, those

clucks let him go. They told him to call again, though, in five minutes. So I told them to give Lane this

"Very good!" approved Seard. He studied the facts on Lane. "Hmmm. The fellow was quite badly injured

in that auto smash. He must have recuperated quite rapidly. So he was out of town. Let us see what could

Seard was still musing when the phone bell rang again. Cardona grabbed the telephone from its cradle. He

"Hello... Yes, this is Inspector Cardona... Certainly, Lane, I'll be glad to talk to you. No, no. We aren't looking

"He's jittery about something. Afraid we'll grab him if he comes to headquarters."

"You won't have to come to headquarters, Lane... You can talk to me privately, instead... I see... We'll

understand. I've got a friend here who can help you. Let's see where are you now? Good! Hop a cab and

As he concluded the conversation, Cardona gave the house address. He put down the telephone and gave the

"Lane's in from Philadelphia," explained Cardona. "Said he got a letter, with more money. A thousand bucks.

The letter told him to go to Florida and keep quiet. He's still crippled from his auto accident; but he was well

"He telephoned the boarding house from the station in Philly, just before he bought his ticket. Learned that

some fellow had stopped there to ask for him. That scared him. He figures he's in deep in the racket ring

mess, but he doesn't know how. So he grabbed a train for New York. Made his phone calls from the Pennsy

Seard considered the case. He pondered over the possible connection between the money received by Lane

and the stranger who had called at the boarding house. While Seard pondered, the matter was partly explained

The signal light flashed in The Shadow's sanctum. Two reports came from Burbank. The first was from Harry

Vincent, in Wilmington, Delaware. Harry had called at Lane's Philadelphia residence, to learn that the man

The other report came from Clyde Burke. At headquarters, the reporter had learned of Lane's call. Markham

had received it; and Clyde had heard him call Seard's home. Later, Markham had told Lane to call there.

Instantly, The Shadow pieced the circumstances. Harry's stop at Lane's residence had produced a result that

could be turned to prompt advantage. The Shadow was sure that Lane had been summoned to Seard's for an

It was too early to appear at Seard's as Cranston. The Shadow's course was to arrive in his garb of black;

remain as a silent, unseen listener. That could be accomplished with speed, for The Shadow was familiar with

The bluish light clicked off. In darkness, The Shadow started for his quest. His departure marked the

beginning of unexpected adventure. Though The Shadow anticipated crossfactors that might develop, there

Homer Lane, the needed link, was to prove vital in the chain of crime. Yet neither The Shadow nor his rival,

SPLOTCHY light from a street lamp showed Lane's cab when it pulled up in front of Seard's. The taxi was

visible from the front windows of the study, where Seard and Cardona were on watch. The cab had an open

top, slid back because of the mild weather. The viewers could see the passenger leaning forward to pay the

Seard and Cardona had decided to let Havlett admit Lane. The less fuss they made, the more likely he would

Keeping close watch on Lane, neither observer saw the cab that stopped some distance down the street. From

it stepped a cloaked figure that merged instantly with the blackness of the house walls. Before Lane had

The cloaked investigator was at the front door of the house next to Seard's. It was The Shadow's plan to reach

the balcony on the third floor. A shift across would enable him to listen through the window of Seard's study.

The Shadow, therefore, was concentrating on the door itself, instead of watching Lane's cab. As he turned the

knob, The Shadow felt the door yield to his push. It was unlocked. That told The Shadow of a possible

The murderer had arrived again tonight. He had already entered this empty house to gain position for a new

Meanwhile, Lane was stepping from his cab. As he pushed the door open, he picked up a heavy cane and

thrust it out ahead of him. Lane had a limp as a result of the automobile accident. Seen from above, the visitor

That last item gave The Shadow full warning of an instant menace. With a turn, he started to spring from the

steps of the house next door. He caught himself before it was too late. Still clutching the door edge, The

From above, he heard a triumphant shriek, an insane cackle that announced Creep Hoyran. The shout was

Lane heard the cry; he looked up. It was his last moment of life. He saw a round, black object dropping

From the roof edge, Creep saw the terrified face. Arms extended, Creep uttered an angry snarl and jumped

back. In that last flash, Creep had seen his mistake. The heavy cane had caused him to think that Lane was

SEARD and Cardona were the real witnesses to the tragedy. Their window was closed; they could not hear

Creep's cry. They saw Lane's startled look; with it they glimpsed the final fall of Creep's bomb. The missile

The effect was as elusive as the bursting of a soap bubble, that seems to vanish before it strikes. The bomb

exploded with devastating effect, changing the scene to blackness in a twinkling. There was a titanic roar,

Clattering chunks of metal hit the cracked asphalt and sidewalks. With them was no sign of Homer Lane. The

State's witness had been blasted into nothingness. The taxi driver was also atomized. Double death had come

Windows crashed all along the block, in every house but Seard's. There, bulletproof glass withstood the

shock. From the third story, Seard and Cardona continued their gape; but soon their senses rallied. In

"Creep Hoyran! On the roof! He mistook Lane for myself, because of the cane! Wait! I have it those sounds

I heard! It was Creep, testing the chimney with a weight. He intended lower the bomb into my fireplace!"

"If he's on the roof," exclaimed Joe, "he'll have to be coming down through the house next door! We'll get

Cardona started for the elevator. Seard followed rapidly, even though handicapped by his cane.

Halfway through the door of the empty house, The Shadow had escaped the blast. Glass panes had clattered

from the door; the terrific concussion had floored The Shadow. Though showered with glass, he was unhurt.

Rising, he dashed through the hallway, found a flight of stairs and headed up to the third floor. He reached

This house was several feet higher than Seard's; and its front was slightly deeper. Coming by the balcony

route, Creep had found it as easy to reach Seard's roof as it had been to hurl the knife the night before. The

Scaling the balcony rail, The Shadow duplicated Creep's course. His hands clutched the side edge of Seard's

roof. A moment later, he was clambering over the top. As he rolled sideways on the roof, The Shadow

The city's glow made the rooftop plain. The Shadow saw Creep, still at the front edge. The killer was peering

below, to gloat over the devastation that he had wreaked. He had not yet seen Seard and Cardona. They had

CREEP could not have heard The Shadow's arrival; but the demented killer apparently had an amazing ability

to sense approaching danger. He jumped back from the roof edge, staring straight toward the figure in black.

With long, loping leap, Creep made for cover. He chose the protection of the chimney.

The Shadow fired; but Creep was clear. He had passed the big chimney; The Shadow's bullet gouged the

brick corner. Creep's hand was at his hip when he reached cover. He was pulling a gun of his own.

The duel that followed was a remarkable one. The Shadow's skill was matched against Creep's insane

cunning. Reaching the front of the chimney, he saw Creep take quick aim from the far corner. The Shadow

stabbed a sizzling shot. Creep was gone, ducking for another chimney, using the first as perfect cover for his

Following, The Shadow had Creep in a position where the killer's logical step was to make for the nextdoor

roof. Instead, Creep shifted roundabout; as soon as The Shadow reached the far side of the chimney, Creep

That gave The Shadow an apparent edge. Closing upon the front chimney, he had Creep at bay, when the

slippery crook suddenly poked his head over the chimney top, ready for a downward spring.

The Shadow looked straight upward. He saw a thin, emaciated face, its lips spread to show tusklike teeth. A

scrawny arm swung to view, showing the revolver clutched in Creep's clawlike fist.

The Shadow's .45 loomed upward, quicker than Creep could aim. Again, the killer was quick as a whipping

snake. He slid suddenly backward; The Shadow saw his arms shoot upward. An instant later, they were out of

Creep had taken a feetfirst dive, straight down the chimney. His thin body wasted to the proportions of a

human skeleton, Creep had been able to take that path. It was a route too narrow for The Shadow to follow.

THERE was a witness to Creep's finished journey. The wiry killer landed in the fireplace in Seard's study.

Havlett had just come up in the elevator. The servant saw Creep crawl out, covered with soot and ashes. With

Creep cared nothing for the servant's flight. He glared about the room, expecting to see Seard. Slowly a wise,

ugly smile registered upon Creep's drawn lips. The killer looked up toward the ceiling. He muttered to

himself, deciding that he had already met Seard upon the roof. Creep was making Weston's mistake:

Glaring toward the fireplace, Creep pictured the absurd possibility of returning up through the chimney. A

shake of his head told that the idea was too fantastic even for his demented brain. Instead, Creep hurried out

into the hall and looked for a stairway. He found one and dashed down to the second floor.

There, the killer met Joe Cardona coming up from the first floor. Seard was not with Joe, for the investigator

could not stand the climb. Desirous only of a meeting with Seard, Creep did not aim for Cardona. Instead, he

Creep found a back stairway. He hurtled downward to the first floor, arriving in a kitchen. A fatfaced chef

dived behind the stove. Leering, Creep looked for another outlet. He found a doorway to the cellar, and dived

Chasing to the cellar, Cardona blundered about. He used his flashlight; beyond stacks of books he saw Creep

pulling the bolt of a door that led outside. Uncannily, the crook had found that exit in the darkness. Creep was

It was pure luck that aided Creep in the final stage of his escape. When he reached a passage outside, he

darted in the opposite direction from the house next door. The excitement of the pursuit must have caused

him to forget temporarily his hope of meeting Seard. Had Creep gone toward that adjoining house, he would

One winging shot was all he needed to bring the crazed murderer to earth. It was fortunate that The Shadow

took such deliberate aim. Had he been hasty, he might not have noticed an unwanted target that lunged

It was Cardona, coming from Seard's cellar. Unwittingly, Joe thrust his head and his broad shoulders squarely

in front of The Shadow's gun. A gloved finger halted its trigger squeeze. By that instinctive stop, The Shadow

Creep dashed away to safety, thanks to Cardona's blunder. Joe fired three shots; but they were useless. He

was going only by the direction of Creep's footfalls; and they were too evasive for Joe's judgment.

Pocketing his stubby revolver, Cardona glanced about; then went back into the cellar.

The Shadow detached himself from darkness. Pursuit of Creep was useless. It could not amend the death of

Since The Shadow had an appointment with Commissioner Weston, his best course was to keep it in the

usual guise of Lamont Cranston. It would mean a conventional call upon Gannet Seard; and The Shadow

already knew what he would hear when he arrived as Cranston. Seard and Cardona would give their version

Those details would be slim, small change compared with the wealth of information that Lane might have

given. Nevertheless, The Shadow intended to add those item's to his collection of facts. Even the most slender

Mere items from the past, added to those of the present and future, might give The Shadow keys to facts that

he wanted. As a master of deduction, he had shown himself as keen as Gannet Seard.

The future offered chance for The Shadow to move ahead of his keen rival in the field of crime detection.

BY a quick trip to the Cobalt Club, The Shadow paved the way for a prompt, ordinary visit to Seard's house.

When he reached the club, The Shadow had become Cranston; and he met Commissioner Weston coming

"Jove, Cranston!" he exclaimed, "I'm glad you arrived early! I just left word for you to meet me at the usual

"Yes," affirmed Weston. "There has been the deuce to pay there! We shall learn about it when we arrive."

Uniformed police were patrolling the neighborhood when the commissioner's car reached Seard's. When

Weston and Cranston were ushered into the third floor study, they received details of all that had happened.

Joe Cardona supplied them, while Seard sat behind his desk, his big head nodding its corroboration.

Certain details, though, were lacking. The account contained no mention of The Shadow. His battle with

Seard had not been idle during the interim, since Creep's murder of Lane. A ring of the telephone indicated

something important, for Cardona sprang to answer the call at Seard's nod. The call was from Philadelphia.

As soon as that call was ended, there was another ring of the phone bell. This time it was Detective Sergeant

"We sent Markham for information from the hospital where Lane was a patient after his automobile

From Joe's notations, Seard picked certain names. They were persons whom informants connected with Lane.

Cardona made a call to headquarters; he gave new instructions, as ordered by Seard.

Meanwhile, Havlett entered, to announce that Seard's secretary had arrived. Seard sent Cardona's notes

All during the next hour, the telephone was busy. So was Seard. He was studying the reports that came to

Cardona; he was looking over the typed sheets that arrived from downstairs. He did not stop with checking on

Lane. He added data that concerned Creep Hoyran; those involved longdistance calls to the asylum where

He went to the fireplace, carrying his typed sheets with him. He drew down a black chart that was made of

thin, flexible silicate. It formed a blank blackboard. With chalks of different colors, Seard began to write

At times, he called for data from his files. Cardona found the wanted information and supplied it. All the

while, Weston looked on in profound admiration. He saw Cranston watching the process. In an undertone, the

"See that, Cranston? It looks like a hodgepodge. But wait! I have seen Seard do this before! Those various

colors represent names which have connected themselves in his giant mind. Later, he will join the links."

The time came. Stepping back from the hanging blackboard chart, Seard leaned on his cane and surveyed the

accumulation of names. He steadied himself against a chair; used his cane as a pointer.

"Creep Hoyran," he announced. The name was written in blue. "I consider him because his action was most

recent. Notice those others in blue. They are persons who knew Creep, or visited him while he was confined."

Shifting to the board, Seard linked the names with blue chalk lines. He shook his head.

"They lead nowhere," he declared. "There is not the slightest chance that Creep intended to murder Lane. Ah,

commissioner" Seard smiled dryly as he looked toward Weston "you are saying to yourself that we knew

"We did not know it. We merely supposed it. I have been considering the possibility" Seard tapped his

forehead "that Creep might have some other purpose than making deaththrusts toward me. After all,

"So it was necessary to consider his case in detail. Our finding proves nil. We can summarize Creep's case

simply and accurately. Creep mistook Lane for myself. There is just one question that might be asked. Does it

Seard looked benignly about the group, like a teacher beaming upon a class in grammar school. It was

"Why did Creep think you would be coming into the house, when you are always in here every evening? Is

"That is the question," approved Seard. "Here is the answer. On certain afternoons, I have gone for short rides

in Central Park, always returning before dusk. Since Creep always came here after dark, I supposed that he

"Waiting on the roof, he wanted to be sure that I was home before he lowered the bomb into the fireplace.

While he made his tests, he kept watching the street. When he saw the cab, he thought I might be arriving late

WITH an eraser, Seard eliminated blue names and lines from the blackboard. He pointed to a yellow name:

"Lane worked at the Rickshaw Club," reviewed Seard. "He was injured in an automobile accident. He

received visits from various friends." Seard checked yellow names. "Some of them were patrons of the

"We have the statement of the nurse who saw Lane open the envelope and destroy the note that was with it.

Lane told her that his friends had sent him the gift. That seemed probable, since many of them had called."

Seard tapped the various yellow names with the eraser. With a flourish, he eradicated every one of them,

including that of Lane. He picked up a piece of green chalk; wrote Lane's name again, in the place where it

"Why did I eliminate the yellow?" he rumbled. "Because it was the obvious. Let me tell you this" Seard

wagged his hand with the green chalk: "Lane would have received that money whether or not he had been

"It was a bribe to induce him to leave the Rickshaw Club and go to parts unknown. The man who gave the

bribe intended, originally, to slip the money secretly to Lane. He could not do so after the accident. He had to

use some excuse. The note told Lane to pretend that the cash was a donation from friends.

"It specified what Lane was to do in return. He followed instructions. He went to Philadelphia. Today, he

received more money. We know the rest. Instead of going to Florida, Lane became frightened; and hurried to

Standing back, Seard stroked his chin and studied the name of Lane, also others that were written in green.

"Those," he declared, "represent persons who could have known Lane. By that, I mean persons who might

have visited the Rickshaw Club, on rare occasions. Persons, moreover, who had something in common with

"These men worked at other night clubs," he said. "Their jobs were similar to the one that Lane held. This

man" Seard made another line "came from Lane's home town. Here are four who frequented places where

Seard shook his head. Those leads meant nothing. His smile, though, showed that a real connection was

coming. He drew three lines, fanning out from Lane's name to a trio of names above it.

"Those three men," announced Seard, "have a common failing. They play the races heavily. In order to do so,

Seard drew three quick lines to the top of the chart, arriving at a name that had, so far, passed unnoticed by

Weston and Cardona; although Cranston had spied it. Around that greenchalk name, Seard drew an

SEARD nodded, as he erased all names from the chart with the exception of Blackey's, which remained

"We made the same mistake as the underworld," declared Seard, in a rumbled drone. "We credited Blackey

with being honest. Let us suppose the opposite. Consider Blackey as a man who built up his honest reputation

"Blackey held Chink's loot in his vault. He was ready to decamp with it. Since that would have branded him

as a doublecrosser, Blackey planned another haul: the profits of the racket ring.

"He learned facts from visits to the Rickshaw Club. The one man who would have remembered those visits

was Lane. Blackey bribed the fellow anonymously, of course to leave his job there and remain away."

Commissioner Weston was elated over Seard's conclusions. Briefly and effectively, Seard had linked two

stupendous crimes and had named the same master crook for both. Blackey Brenby, exbookie, stood as the

If Seard had stopped there, Weston would still have been overwhelmed by the master investigator's ability at

analyzing crime. To Seard's giant brain, however, the naming of Blackey Brenby was but a stepping stone.

"Blackey Brenby is still in New York! The underworld does not suspect his treachery. Crooks think that he

was entitled to Chink's swag. They do not know that he took Devoort's also. The way is still open for Blackey

That statement made Weston's eyes pop. With white chalk, Seard wrote three names upon the board.

"I have written these names in white; but they are blacker than that board itself! Reds Lurthan, Tiger Hyrick,

Nemo Javley. Every one of them has gone in for big crime! Those are the three that Blackey will watch!

Sooner or later, he will contact them. Shrewdly, he will mention Chink Rethlo; but not Louis Devoort.

"Blackey will boast of his honest reputation. He will refer to his connection with Chink as proof that he can

be trusted. Those three crooks will remember that the evidence shows that Blackey did not disappear with

Chink's swag until he knew that Chink was dead. He will offer to hold swag for them.

"We do not care whether or not they accept his terms. Our task is to watch those three: Reds, Tiger and

Seard had completed his analysis. In addition, he had prepared a campaign for the law. From the files, he

produced a photograph of Blackey Brenby. It showed a sallow, squarefaced man with a black mustache.

THE visitors left Seard's. Again, as on other nights, a blue light appeared in The Shadow's sanctum. Beneath

its glow lay a duplicate of Blackey's photograph. The Shadow's hand put that picture aside; brought three

Those portraits represented the trio whose names Seard had mentioned. The Shadow expected to see those

Like the law, The Shadow was planning a campaign upon the analysis that Gannet Seard had outlined.

THE next day Lamont Cranston stopped at the Cobalt Club, in a limousine loaded with suitcases and sporting

equipment. He was leaving for Canada, so he told Ralph Weston. The news brought vociferous objection

"Why go there, Cranston?" exclaimed Weston. "The sport is greater here than in Canada. Can't you picture

"To the law yes," rejoined Cranston, "but not to me. Our tastes differ, commissioner. I prefer to bag big

Weston would have been quite amazed, had he known the real reason for Cranston's supposed departure from

New York. Weston, himself, was responsible for it. He had made it a routine for Cranston to accompany him

There was only one way for The Shadow to clear himself from that routine. That course was to send himself

out of town. From today on, The Shadow needed complete leeway for excursions in his garb of black. To

preserve his double identity, he had to account for Cranston's absence. The trip to Canada was sufficient

Actually, Cranston's journey ended at Stamford, Connecticut, the first stop that the Canadabound train made

THE direct result of The Shadow's return was realized at eight o'clock that evening, an hour when Weston

Three men were seated in the living room of a luxurious apartment. Heavy window curtains were drawn.

Glasses clinked as the trio talked business. Those three were the men whose pictures lay in The Shadow's

The apartment belonged to "Reds" Lurthan. His visitors were "Tiger" Hyrick and "Nemo" Javley.

Reds Lurthan owned a hidden printing plant that boasted an excellent engraving department. That plant

turned out fake bonds and stock certificates that were fine mutations of originals. Reds had staged many

smooth robberies; in every case, he had left fraudulent stocks and bonds in place of the genuine ones that he

Tiger Hyrick was a shakedown artist. His deals ran all the way from con games to outright blackmail. Lesser

crooks did the work; Tiger was the brain behind the business. Some of the smallfry had taken raps; but

Nemo Javley fancied jewelry. The gems that suited his taste were those that belonged to other persons,

particularly wholesale jewel merchants. Nemo stood tops in that specialized, field of crime.

Though the law recognized each man as a dangerous crook, no tangible evidence could be gained against any

In fact, this was the first time that they had ever talked openly between themselves. They were speaking only

because they had found something in common, and because they were confident that their meeting place was

"Here's the note that came from Blackey Brenby," announced Reds, producing a crumpled sheet of paper. "It

told me to wait until I got a birthday greeting telegram. The wire came in this afternoon."

"Same as mine," he said: "Only I was to wait until somebody sent me flowers! They were delivered today."

"I tore up my note," added Nemo. "It said I would get a bill for five tons of coal. The bill showed up this

The fact that Nemo had destroyed his note, caused Reds and Tiger to do the same with theirs. They burned

"THOSE notes were typed," remarked Reds. "I've got a hunch that Blackey banged them off on that old

typewriter in his office. Which means he did it before he lammed with all that swag belonging to Chink

"So what?" snapped Tiger. "That don't mean that Blackey pulled a fast one on Chink! He wouldn't have got

"I figure Blackey as O.K.," assured Reds. "Here's the way I size it. Blackey was waiting for Chink to bring in

more swag. After that, Blackey was to clear town and unload it. A sweet stunt, with the bulls looking for

Nods from Tiger and Nemo. Their interpretation of notes was similar to the one that Reds had made.

"Blackey said one thing that counts." Reds thumbed toward the ash tray. "He said he could do for us what he

was going to do for Chink, if we'd slip him the goods. That's why he wants to meet us."

"These are the McCoy," he told the others. "Worth three hundred grand. Came out of safes in brokerage

houses. Phonies planted in their place. It would be bad, though, to try and unload them in New York.

"I'm going to let Blackey handle them. They're hot here; but they'll be cool wherever he's going. The way he's

had the cops buffaloed shows that he knows his stuff. I'm one guy that's going to meet Blackey and make a

Reds had hardly announced his decision before Tiger showed a fat, largesized wallet. From it, Tiger brought

currency of high denomination. He stacked thousanddollar bills upon the table; then counted others of

"One hundred and sixtyfive grand," stated Tiger. "Dough that came from some of the saps who wanted

things kept quiet. Only they weren't so dumb as they might have been. This mazuma is marked. I used the

"That's why I've hung on to this wad. It's been getting bigger and bigger. If Blackey can unload your stuff,

Reds, he can handle this dough, too. I'm going along with you, to make a deal with Blackey."

The two looked to Nemo. They saw him place his hand in his coat pocket. They expected him to bring out a

bag of gems. Instead, Nemo produced a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he remarked:

"Blackey sounds all right," he said. "The whole thing listens good. Only I don't need Blackey. Listen to this:

I've stowed away sparklers worth a half a million bucks! Tomorrow night, I'm staging another job; and I'll

"All the sparklers will be hot, only that won't mean anything. I go after big ones. They can be recut, reset,

fixed so neat that they could be sold back to the clucks that I took them from."

Nemo paused for a long puff on his cigarette. His lips showed a wise smile. He added:

"I'll handle all that through a guy that knows how. One guy that nobody could suspect. A bigtime jeweler

NEMO'S explanation was sufficient. He arose, dunked his halfsmoked cigarette in an ash tray and

"I think I'll run along, Reds. Only listen: Joe Cardona dropped in to see me this afternoon. He had a hokum

story; but I've got a hunch that he's had some dicks watching me. That won't matter. I'm going to do a duck

Reds was on his feet, showing Nemo to a private elevator. Thwacking the visitor on the shoulder, Reds

"Don't worry about me and Tiger. We can shake off the flycops. There won't be anybody tailing us when we

"Don't be too sure on anything, Reds. Better ride past the joint to make sure it isn't cased. You'll be boxed,

"We'll make sure the room's empty. Leave it to us, Nemo. Blackey couldn't have picked a better spot!"

As soon as Nemo had gone, Reds and Tiger prepared for their own departure. They pocketed the swag that

they intended to deliver to Blackey. Reds turned out all the lights except a small table lamp. He pushed the

button to bring up the elevator that Nemo had used. Reds and Tiger entered the cage.

While the mechanism of the descending elevator still gave a muffled thrum, a window curtain stirred in the

emptied living room. Draperies parted; from a broad ledge came a shape that looked ghostlike in the dull

Approaching the spot where the lamp glowed, the shape became a cloaked figure. Keen eyes burned from

beneath the brim of a slouch hat. The materialized being was The Shadow. The master of darkness had

THE SHADOW had penetrated to this living room by an outside route. Scaling the wall of the apartment

house, he had picked the right window. Unseen and unheard, he had found a suitable lurking spot behind the

Burned paper in the ash tray showed traces of typewritten words that, a while ago, might have been important

clues for The Shadow. That evidence was no longer necessary. The parting conversation between Reds and

Reds and Tiger were going to the old Claybrook Hotel, near Eighth Avenue. The hotel was an obscure one;

and its downstairs dining room had been closed for the past year. It was an ideal spot for crooks to use as a

Since Reds and Tiger would be taking a roundabout course to shake off any trailing police, The Shadow

could reach the hotel ahead of them. That would be easy, despite the head start that the two crooks had

Bringing up the elevator, The Shadow entered and descended. He reached a downstairs passage; left the

apartment house through a dark side door. Outside, The Shadow glided away with absolute stealth. He had

Across the street he saw a parked car that contained watchers of the law. There would be others in the

vicinity. Probably they had spotted Nemo and sent the word along. Chances were that they had also sighted

Reds and Tiger. Nemo would give them no trail; but the law could gain one from Reds and Tiger.

Perhaps the course would not be so easy as Reds and Tiger had anticipated. There could be trouble from the

law tonight, for the police were working under orders that came direct from Gannet Seard. The Shadow's

So did The Shadow. One thing was certain. The Shadow would reach the Claybrook Hotel ahead of the law.

That coming opportunity was attractive to The Shadow, at the present moment. It was to prove the very

REDS LURTHAN and Tiger Hyrick had taken excellent precautions when they reached the street; measures

good enough to shake off a usual procession of trailing detectives. One block away, they entered a narrow

garage, where Reds sometimes kept a car. With a nudge, Reds motioned the garage man to close the door.

Satisfied that no dicks were about, Reds led Tiger to a stairway. They reached the garage roof; entered the

second floor window of an adjoining building. They descended to a doorway on another street. Reds watched

across the street and saw a shambly panhandler go into a little store. After a few minutes, Reds spoke to

"It's all clear. That guy was my lookout. I keep him posted here. They flash the glims on the second floor if

Tiger was not surprised to learn of the precautions used by Reds. Like all socalled bigshots, Reds had

enemies and was wise to keep them in mind. Tonight, his measures against underworld opposition were

With the coast clear, the two crooks made for an opposite alleyway. Soon they emerged near another corner.

Reds slid out and hailed a passing taxi. Tiger followed him into it. Reds gave the driver an address near

All during the ride, the two kept looking through the back window. No one was tailing them. They chuckled

over their skill at slipping Cardona's watchers. All that they failed to notice was the roundabout route that the

Before the taxi reached Times Square, Reds and Tiger had forgotten their worries about trailing detectives.

By that time, cars were following them. Tonight, the law was working under the management of Gannet

By Seard's order, every cab had been commandeered in the neighborhood where Reds lived. The driver of

this particular cab was following police instructions. He had passed a given point to show off his passengers.

Near Times Square, Reds and Tiger left their cab and walked two blocks to take another. The new taxi was

not controlled by the law; but detectives were close enough to spot it. The crooks made a conspicuous trail

when they rode to the Claybrook Hotel. They looked the place over, as Nemo had advised. Seeing no dicks

After their cab had gone, another pulled up and disgorged a pair of headquarters men, who took a quick peek

into the lobby. They saw Reds and Tiger going downstairs. The detectives put in prompt word to Joe

MEANWHILE, the two crooks reached the basement of the old hotel and found it deserted. A barber shop

had closed for the night. Across the hallway was the closed door of the abandoned dining room.

Inside, the two used their flashlights more widely. The dining room was a large, lowceilinged place, its

walls papered with dark, imitation tapestry. There were bare tables stacked in the corners; but those afforded

All that the pair failed to notice was an open spot near one corner. Their flashlights did not quite reach its

Satisfied, Reds crossed the dining room and reached an end door. He opened it and entered, with Tiger. They

Immediately, darkness stirred from darkness. Another flashlight glimmered. The Shadow had come from his

Inside that room, Reds had pressed a wall switch. The light showed the room to be about fifteen feet square.

Reds pointed across the room, to a picture that showed Peter Stuyvesant, governor of New Amsterdam,

offering defiance to the English. The irate Dutchman was backed by a squad of soldiers and a few pitiful

"I remember old Pegleg," recalled Reds. "We threw a party in this joint, about five years ago. It used to be a

"He'll be here." Reds reached to the pocket that contained the bulging stock certificates. "Get your dough

He clamped his inside pocket with his left hand, to hold the money that bulged there; he started his right hand

Reds turned also, but did not start to reach for a gun. He thought that the entrant would be Blackey Brenby.

Tiger's move for his revolver was too late. Reds, in his turn, was caught flatfooted. Both let their arms stretch

THERE was a reason for The Shadow's early entry into the affairs of Reds and Tiger. From the outer door of

the dining room, he had caught muffled sounds above. He knew the law had invaded the Claybrook Hotel.

Soon, police would be on the way down. It was The Shadow's intent that they should meet Reds and Tiger

coming up. Gannet Seard had planned that the law should have that pair. The Shadow would complete the

Best of all, both were carrying incriminating wealth, fruits of their past crimes. Reds and Tiger would have a

Astonishment was plain on both faces. Reds Lurthan, squarejawed, uglyeyed; Tiger Hyrick, his lips

rounded in an unuttered snarl that showed long, fangish teeth, yellow like his face they were trying to guess

Had Blackey sold them out? No, that was too unlikely. It might be that The Shadow had trapped Blackey.

That was more probable. There was a chance, perhaps, that The Shadow had faked those messages from

The crooks had no knowledge of Gannet Seard. They never guessed that The Shadow's rival had analyzed

facts for the law, to bring out the actual truth that Reds and Tiger would seek a meeting with Blackey Brenby.

Therefore, the trapped pair did not realize that The Shadow intended to march them out through the big

Reds and Tiger forgot that they were bigshots, as they backed against the big painting of old Peter

Stuyvesant. They eyed The Shadow, outlined against the door that he had closed. In turn, The Shadow held

The cannon that flanked the figure of Stuyvesant were silvery, with black muzzles; but not bright enough to

That muzzle was real. It was steel, poked through the canvas. It was the muzzle of a machine gun, trained

Instantly, The Shadow knew that if he aimed for the painting, he would betray himself. A hidden murderer

was ready to cut loose. A false shift by The Shadow; the sudden arrival of the law either would bring a

A BOLD game was the only course. The Shadow gave no indication that he saw the camouflaged machine

gun. Calmly, he concentrated upon Reds and Tiger. Slowly, deliberately, he thrust his guns beneath his cloak

Reds and Tiger showed sour smiles. They decided that The Shadow's pose was intended to bait them. They

knew that The Shadow could whip out those automatics before they could grab their own guns. They were

Still playing a game to bluff the hidden killer behind the painting, The Shadow stepped forward from the

Half turning as he spoke, The Shadow pointed with his right hand toward the door behind him. His left was

still against his cloak. His ears, however, had apparently heard something, for he turned his head toward the

They thought that Blackey had arrived. This was their one chance. Without waiting to pull guns, the two

bigshots hurled themselves forward upon The Shadow. Both had caught the same idea.

Like a flash, The Shadow wheeled to meet the attacking pair. Half dropping, he grabbed for the doorknob

with his right hand; yanked an automatic with his left. He wanted, Reds and Tiger to bowl him to the door,

The gunner behind the wall canvas wanted The Shadow as his target, he would fail to have that opportunity,

Thirty seconds more, The Shadow would be clear. The hidden marksman knew it. He denied the respite.

Ripping bullets lashed the plunging bodies of Reds Lurthan and Tiger Hyrick; jolted them as they clutched at

The Shadow. Waggling from side to side, the machine gun was clearing the blockers from the path.

They sprawled; the drilling stream continued. The gunner, peering through a hole in the eye of Stuyvesant's

Instead, the door was blank. The Shadow had flattened when the barrage began. He was covered by the

tumbled bodies of Reds and Tiger. Before the hidden machine gunner realized that piece of strategy, The

He had no time for calculated aim. He had to halt the stream of bullets before the killer had a chance to tilt

the machine gun toward the floor. With his drawn automatic, The Shadow blasted haphazard shots in the

direction of the big painting. Burning slugs seared the canvas. The machine gun's rattle ended.

Twisting up from beneath the bulletriddled bodies of the crooks, The Shadow delivered true shots as he

sprang toward the inner wall. Thrusting his fingers into bullet holes, he ripped away the canvas.

Beyond was an empty space a small windowledge that had been hidden by the painting. There lay the

THE SHADOW clambered to the ledge; squirmed through an opened window. He heard shouts from the

room that he had left. The police were arriving there, to find the bodies of Reds and Tiger. The Shadow did

He was in a narrow highwalled air shaft boxed between the hotel and the next building. Across the shaft was

another window, like the one through which he had come. It was closed and clamped. The killer had taken

The Shadow smashed the glass with his automatic; unclamped the window and tugged it upward. He went

through. Landing in a dimly lighted corridor, The Shadow realized instantly where he was. This building had

a long underground passageway that formed a route to the Eighth Avenue subway. The machine gunner had

A ninetyfoot dash brought The Shadow to a turn; past it, he saw a padlocked iron gate, closed for the night.

From the distance came the rumble of a departing subway train in the underground station. The fleeing killer

had not only padlocked the gate behind him; he had been lucky enough to catch a subway local.

The Shadow smashed the padlock with a hard stroke of the gun handle. He whipped off his cloak and hat;

bundled them on his arm. As Cranston, he strolled through the gate and quickened his pace toward the

The killer had taken a southbound train. The Shadow boarded a northbound local that came along a minute

One station north, he left the train. As Cranston, he boarded a taxi, just as the wail of sirens began from far

down Eighth Avenue. Calmly, Cranston's voice ordered the driver to go southward on Eighth.

Wilddriving police cars never paused to inspect the cab that was rolling back in the direction of the

Claybrook Hotel. That would have been ridiculous, since flight had been in the opposite direction. At the

There was a tangle of traffic outside the hotel. From his cab window The Shadow saw Joe Cardona on the

curb, excitedly explaining matters to Commissioner Weston, who was alighting from his official car. From

the short time that it had taken Weston to reach the scene, The Shadow knew that the commissioner must

Much though The Shadow would have liked to hear Weston's version of the battle, he did not stop; nor did he

go to the Cobalt Club, to appear there as Cranston. He gave the taxi driver another address that of a small

It would be wise for Lamont Cranston to remain absent from New York another night; or at least to feign

For The Shadow had not forgotten the facts that he had learned at Reds Lurthan's apartment. Reds, like Tiger

Hyrick, was dead. Two bigshots out of three had been eliminated; one, however, still was alive.

That one was Nemo Javley. He, too, had received a message from Blackey Brenby. Nemo, moreover, had

planned crime for tomorrow night. Nemo Javley could prove important later. It would be worth while to

The Shadow's laugh sounded softly from the lips of Lamont Cranston. By tomorrow night, The Shadow

would have facts concerning crime that would prove astonishing even to his rival, Gannet Seard.

AT dusk the next day, Lamont Cranston was seated in the stuffy hotel room that formed his temporary New

York residence. Beside him were stacks of newspapers. On his table were report sheets. Facts were ample.

The police had found the bodies of Reds Lurthan and Tiger Hyrick, their pockets stuffed with evidence of

their past crimes. Reds was exposed as a counterfeiter of stocks and bonds. Tiger was revealed as a bigtime

The missing bookie had suddenly loomed as a supercriminal. Not content with the swag from Chink Rethlo's

bank robberies, he had duped Reds and Tiger into a trap. His hope had been to get the spoils that they had

Behind these statements, The Shadow saw the source from which they had come. The law had gained a new

There was evidence that proved Blackey's lonewolf crime. Finger prints were lacking on the abandoned

A heel print matched one from a pair of shoes found in Blackey's little apartment. A shoe repairman in the

neighborhood testified that he had put on several pairs of heels for Blackey, and that they were all the same.

A trifling piece of blue serge cloth, caught in the gate near the subway platform, was obviously from the suit

that Blackey had worn when he had gone for parts unknown. That suit had an extra pair of trousers, found at

The killer had thrown a pair of gloves into a big rubbish container in the subway station. Analysis brought

traces of the wanted finger prints, within the thin kid gloves themselves. Blackey had been fingerprinted

once, after his arrest at a gambling establishment with which he had been connected. Those records would

Piecing facts, the law pictured that Blackey had used the gloves to handle the machine gun. He had chosen

Dropping these facts, Lamont Cranston began to read reports that dealt with Nemo Javley. The law had

dropped Nemo's trail, soon after he had left the conference with Reds and Tiger. Nemo had gone his own

way, and had spent most of the evening at a night club. Detectives had seen him there they had dropped

Today, however, Nemo was missing, although the law had not mentioned it. The Shadow had that fact from

his own agents. They had trailed Nemo after he knew that he was clear of the police. His hideout was above

Nemo was set to stage a job tonight. Nothing was known, however, of the place that he intended to rob; nor

of the man to whom Nemo might trust the keeping of stolen gems. Those were facts that The Shadow

intended to learn. His agents were keeping tabs on Nemo's hideout until he arrived.

All that delayed The Shadow was a single mission. He wanted to hear what Gannet Seard discussed with

Commissioner Weston at their eight o'clock meeting tonight. The Shadow intended to overhear that

SHORTLY before eight o'clock, Lamont Cranston strolled from the obscure hotel and entered a waiting cab.

It was The Shadow's taxi. Moe Shrevnitz, the driver, had just come from a patrol near Nemo's hideout and

Moe gave this news while Cranston was performing a blackout. By the time the report was finished, it was

The taxi neared Seard's. Leaving it, The Shadow glided to the house next door. Entering, he reached the

thirdfloor windows and shifted over to Seard's roof. An almost invisible figure, The Shadow reached the

The Shadow had brought equipment from the cab. It consisted of a coil of wire with a microphone attached,

plus compact batteries. Planting the batteries against the chimney, The Shadow lowered the "mike" down the

chimney. When he had dangled it far enough, he donned earphones and listened for word to follow.

In Seard's study, Commissioner Weston and Joe Cardona were in conference with the bigskulled

investigator. Seard was at the fireplace, pointing at a new chart which he had prepared. Every tone of his

"Lurthan and Hyrick were two," declared Seard. "What of the third man, Javley? He is yet to be heard from.

"Ridiculous!" interrupted Seard. "I was right regarding two men whom Blackey did contact. I am right

regarding the third. Nemo Javley had some reason that kept him away from last night's meeting."

"Reds Lurthan invited both Tiger Hyrick and Nemo Javley to his apartment. They must have discussed their

plans. If Nemo foresaw trouble, he would have mentioned it to the others. No, inspector, we must look for

There was a longer pause, while Seard studied the chart. Finally, the investigator declared:

"Nemo must be planning some crime! He must have some one who can handle his stolen goods. Some one

preferable to Blackey Brenby. You were unwise, Cardona, to drop Nemo's trail last night."

"But you said to trail him along with the others. After we found them dead, Nemo didn't count. He won't be

Cardona's argument was a strong one. For once, it impressed Seard. The latter was mollified when he spoke.

"You are right, Cardona," he decided. "We must concentrate upon finding Blackey. At the same time, if

"Of course!" interjected Weston. "Jove, Cardona! The machinery of the law must not stand still just because

"I shall analyze Blackey's case further," declared Seard. "Meanwhile, Cardona, bring me more data on Nemo.

ABOVE the chimney, The Shadow drew up his wire. He had heard all that he required. Tonight, his concern

was with Nemo. This time, the law would definitely be out of the game, since Seard was giving Cardona a

The Shadow's visit to Seard's roof had brought the very results that he wanted. The Shadow was ready for a

campaign that promised sure results. Only the sheer unexpected could spoil that prospect.

The unexpected was due, from a source that The Shadow had not forgotten, yet from which he did not

anticipate trouble. The coming hour was to become one of the most desperate in The Shadow's entire career.

Down through the empty house and out to the rear street; not an incident disturbed The Shadow's progress.

As he approached the cab, The Shadow sighted Moe at a telephone in a corner cigar store. Moe was putting

in a call to Burbank, to learn if there were any changes in the scene near Nemo's hideout.

His eyes toward the window where Moe occupied a pay booth, The Shadow opened the door of the cab and

eased inside. He closed the door after him. He took one step inward as he shifted toward the center of the rear

The Shadow's foot struck something that lay on the floor. It was a darkened cylinder that crackled like an

eggshell under the mere touch of The Shadow's shoetip. There was a puff of whitish smoke; stifling,

A gloved hand went for the doorknob, too late. The gas had an instantaneous, choking effect. Spasmodic

gasps were involuntary. The Shadow's coughing spell drew more fumes into his lungs. He sagged against the

The cab started forward. Moe saw it from the telephone booth, and caught a chance glimpse of The Shadow

against the cab window. He saw the cloaked figure slump to the floor, amid a fading cloud of white vapor.

A huddled driver had popped up in front of the closed partition. Wildly, gleefully, he was driving away with

Sagged against the rear seat, The Shadow managed to clamp his arms across his face, cutting off further

As the vapor subsided, The Shadow's arms dropped. He was limp; his head was swimming. The air, though

no longer choking, still had a gaseous content. It was impossible to revive in that atmosphere. His head

There, like a hideous countenance in an opium smoker's dream, The Shadow saw the face of his captor. It

was wizened, wildeyed; too vague for The Shadow to recognize it. Drawn lips spread to deliver a crazed

Persistent in his death thrusts, Creep had tried a new type of action against Gannet Seard. Through error,

Creep had bagged The Shadow instead. He seemed fully pleased, though, when he swung a corner and saw

Seard or The Shadow. It did not matter. Creep planned one definite deed to cap the finish of this ride.

That deed was murder. Death for the prisoner! As he glared ahead, Creep gave a harsh, triumphant snarl that

A HARD jolt roused The Shadow to a conscious state. His eyes opened to view a small, squarewalled room

that he could view from the corner where he lay. A single electric light showed Creep Hoyran in the center of

The room was less than six feet high. If Creep had not been hunchshouldered, his head would have scraped

the ceiling. Perhaps it was living here that caused Creep to maintain such a crouching posture.

The room was stonewalled; windowless. It had a workbench and some items of laboratory equipment. The

Shadow saw an odd gun that looked like a highpowered air rifle, probably some device that Creep hoped to

There were shells of unfinished bombs; also some objects that looked like giant capsules. The light showed

their thin surfaces to be fragile. They were like the gas bomb that The Shadow had broken when he stepped

The oddest feature of the room was its entrance. That was in the ceiling; it was a vertical shaft four feet in

diameter. From the hole dangled the bottom rung of a rope ladder. Sight of the hole gave The Shadow some

This underground chamber had once served as a base for workmen who had been installing gas mains and

conduits. The shaft was a manhole, through which the workers had descended from the street. The project

finished, this room had been walled; but had been kept as a permanent compartment in case of future need.

Creep Hoyran had known of the underground room. He had taken it for headquarters during his campaign

The cord from which the light hung came from the manhole. Creep had evidently tapped a power line that ran

One fact impressed The Shadow. Creep, wily enough to have chosen and equipped this perfect hideaway,

had certainly been smart enough to follow a zigzag route in Moe's cab. Wherever he had left the stolen taxi, it

Meanwhile, The Shadow would have to deal with Creep alone. That seemed a hopeless task. Still feeling the

effects of the soporific gas, The Shadow was in no condition for immediate battle. Moving his arms wearily,

THE SHADOW'S unguarded stir attracted Creep's attention. Creep was turned toward the workbench,

packing some articles in a squarish wooden box. He came around, glaring; his expression became a malicious

With a loping approach, Creep reached The Shadow. He whipped the slouch hat from The Shadow's head.

It was the first view that Creep had gained of his prisoner's face. Creep snarled when he saw the features of

Creep, like Commissioner Weston, had identified The Shadow with Gannet Seard. The crazed killer was

puzzled to find himself wrong. After a few moments, Creep remembered Cranston's face.

"I've seen you!" spat Creep. "Through the window at Seard's! So you're The Shadow! Unless "

Creep wrenched a knife from beneath his jacket. He drove the blade downward, stopping a half inch short of

The Shadow's throat. The Shadow remained motionless, his eyes undisturbed. Creep's face spread in a

"You're The Shadow, all right," he crackled. "Only The Shadow could sit tight with a dirk coming for his

neck! I thought you were Seard! I saw the cab a taxi driver who went to telephone "

"Seard slid out that way before. Last night other nights he's always been wise enough to duck me! I killed

the wrong man once! This time I took no chances! I used the white gas. It was quiet."

Creep picked up the large wooden box. He reached for the rope ladder, with the remark:

"I went to settle scores with Seard," he told Creep. "The man is a criminal! More dangerous than yourself!"

The statement would not have registered upon a sane mind. It was the sort of theory, though, that could

"Seard is a murderer," declared The Shadow, calmly. "Let me give him to the law. Go back to the place from

which you escaped. Remain there. Make yourself happy while you learn the full truth.

"Newspapers will tell you of Seard's crimes. You will read the details of his trial. You can wait, every day a

happier one, while Seard spends his hours in the death house. Then will come the final hour "

WHILE The Shadow talked, Creep stood entranced. His face had taken on a frenzied joy. It was frozen with

"You lie!" he snarled. "I know why you went to get Seard! Because he is smarter than you! More clever than

"Seard has been smart enough to dodge me," reminded Creep. "But The Shadow wasn't! That shows he is

keener than you are. You could never snag him. I can! Without your help! Tomorrow night! But you won't

The final sentence was Creep's decree of death. The Shadow's ruse had failed. Creep had shown enough

"Maybe you weren't after Seard at all," added Creep. "Maybe you were trying to get me. Pretty smart,

Shadow, but not smart enough. And it won't help Seard, like you wanted. You're through, Shadow!"

Nimbly, Creep hoisted himself up the rope ladder, lugging the square box with him. The Shadow heard him

With an effort, The Shadow arose. For a moment, he staggered; then his strength returned.

It was too late. Before The Shadow could grab for the dangling rope ladder, Creep whisked it upward from

above. Stooped beneath the outlet, The Shadow saw the upper opening, a dozen feet over his head. Creep had

On the workbench, The Shadow saw a telephone. He made a dive for it, on the chance that Creep had

connected it with an outside wire. The telephone was a dummy. Its wire pulled loose from the workbench.

An instant later, the single light was extinguished. Creep had disconnected it from above. Down the shaft

came a clattering echo. Creep had clamped the manhole cover. The Shadow was buried in the pit, amid total

UNDER ordinary circumstances, The Shadow could count upon several hours of survival, before the air

became exhausted. Creep, however, did not intend that The Shadow should live that long. Two sounds

The first was the hiss of gas, that seemed to leak from everywhere. Creep had tapped some hidden pipe, for

The Shadow could scent the odor of ordinary illuminating gas. The other sound was the singing bzzbzz of

Once the gas filled the underground chamber, The Shadow would lie dead. Soon afterward, the spark would

ignite the gascharged air. The explosion would bury The Shadow's body in a stony tomb.

Heavier than air, the gas was creeping up from the floor. The Shadow did not wait for it. Reaching the center

of the room, he raised to full height. Arms spread, he started an upward course through the twelvefoot shaft

The effort failed, as Creep had foreseen it would. The rope ladder was gone. The inner surface of the tubular

shaft was smooth concrete that offered no grips for fingers and no chance for toeholds. The Shadow lacked

any implements that could have aided him. Creep had taken everything that The Shadow carried with him.

After two feet, The Shadow slumped down to the floor. Another prisoner might have accepted doom. Not

The Shadow. In that frustrated effort, The Shadow had discovered a way to navigate the shaft.

Groping through the increasing gas, he found Creep's workbench and dragged it to the center of the room.

Mounting the bench, The Shadow thrust himself well up into the shaft. He started another climb. This time,

Taking advantage of the comparatively narrow diameter of the shaft, The Shadow wedged himself across it.

The shaft was four feet wide; The Shadow had a height of six. Knees and shoulders held him braced in

Something in the manner of an inchworm, The Shadow worked his way upward. His knees crept higher than

Though he lacked his usual strength, The Shadow continued his jerky course. When forced to rest, he could

It was a strange race, that slow upward pace, matched against the gathering gas below. The Shadow could

barely hear the hissing flow from the underground room; but the buzz of the electric spark was plainly

audible. The Shadow did not calculate the time element. He was doing his utmost to offset it.

The Shadow's head thumped the manhole cover. His hands pressed. The lid was clamped. Its inner surface

offered no grip. The upward push of The Shadow's arms was insufficient. There was no way to put his

On the very brink of escape, the way was blocked. All that The Shadow could do was wait. His nostrils

scented a trace of gas, wafted up from the lair that he had left. The instant was almost due.

Pressed hard against the manhole cover, face buried in his cloak, The Shadow took a long breath and held it.

WITH a furious puff, the air of the underground chamber burst upward, accompanied with a sheet of searing

flame that momentarily engulfed The Shadow. With that explosion; the one weakness of the trap was

The clamps of the manhole cover gave instantly. Flaming gas gushed high, heaving the steel cap twenty feet

upward. With that terrific puff, The Shadow was blown clear. Spreading flame showed him as a whirling

figure, hoisted eight feet in air, to flatten upon the paving beside the opened manhole.

The street was quivering when The Shadow landed. Masonry caved below. The ceiling of the underground

room collapsed. The shaft closed in funnel fashion, sucking The Shadow into its crumbling vortex. Clogging

stones blocked the way. The Shadow's slipping course ended. His body was in the stonechoked hole; his

Mechanically, The Shadow crawled clear and reached the curb. Shaken, he came to his feet unsteadily. The

As it whirled, The Shadow found himself staring at a blank wall, which he finally identified as the buttress of

an East River bridge. There was a car parked there. Reeling, The Shadow reached it.

The car was Moe's cab. Creep had abandoned it. Dizzily, The Shadow took the wheel. He started the motor

and began a careening course. Two wheels on the sidewalk, he passed the shattered center of the street.

From there on, The Shadow's course was an odd one. It seemed as though the cab stood still; that the streets

and avenues rolled beneath it. On an avenue where the elevated ran, pillars bobbed up, moved aside as the

His brain swimming, The Shadow was driving by sheer instinct. Hazily, he was heading back to Seard's, until

He took a side street, heading against traffic. As cars whisked from his path, he realized that something was

wrong. Applying the brakes, The Shadow jolted the cab to a stop against the curb.

Slumped behind the wheel. The Shadow would have become a surprising discovery for a police patrol car, if

others had not found him sooner. A coupe happened to come along the oneway street. Its driver recognized

From the coupe popped two of The Shadow's agents: Harry Vincent and Cliff Marsland. Moe Shrevnitz was

with them; the taxi driver clambered from the rumble seat. The trio looked into the cab, expecting to find

Creep Hoyran. Instead, they saw The Shadow, motionless behind the wheel. His strength had lapsed at last.

Two minutes later, Moe Shrevnitz was driving his cab the right direction along the oneway street. The

Shadow was a passenger in the back seat, Harry Vincent with him. Cliff Marsland was following in the

The Shadow's agents had reclaimed their chief. Tomorrow, The Shadow would renew his campaign against

DURING that interlude with Creep Hoyran, The Shadow had missed events elsewhere. He learned that the

next day, when he received reports from his agents. Nemo Javley had left his hideout above the Chinese

restaurant while The Shadow's aids had been frantically searching for their chief.

Fortunately, they had left one man on duty. That agent was "Hawkeye." Harry and Cliff had not informed

him of The Shadow's plight, when they received news from Burbank. Hence Hawkeye, one of the cleverest of

The crook had come from his hideout carrying a large, wellweighted satchel. He had stepped aboard a

subway express that took him to downtown Manhattan. There, he had joined a thuggish crew in a touring car.

There, the crooks had evidently found their own route into a building that housed wholesale jewelry offices.

They must have known the lay and found a clear route for their operations. When Hawkeye spotted them

After a ride of two dozen blocks, Nemo had transferred to a parked coupe, taking the loaded bags with him.

Hawkeye had seen the transfer, for he had followed in a cab. He had trailed Nemo to the neighborhood of

Fourteenth Street. After losing trace for a short while, Hawkeye had spotted the crook coming from the rear

Nemo had unloaded the heavy bags, leaving them somewhere in the building. Later, he abandoned his coupe.

Hawkeye found it empty. Meanwhile, other agents, returning to the vicinity of Nemo's hideout, saw the

TODAY'S newspapers carried reports of a sensational robbery in Maiden Lane. Crooks had completely

silenced an elaborate alarm system that protected the offices of the Allied Jewelers Association. The robbers

The job fitted with the plans that The Shadow had heard Nemo discuss with Reds and Tiger. So did the stop

that Nemo made near Fourteenth Street. The Shadow had received the address of that building from

Records showed nothing against Morridon. He ran what appeared to be a legitimate business, making

occasional trips abroad to buy and sell gems. The Shadow saw the purpose that would be behind Morridon's

next transAtlantic voyage. On that journey, Morridon intended to carry the swag left with him by Nemo

Clever crooks like Nemo no longer worked through "fences," who disposed of gems for a mere fraction of

their value. They had their own agents; men like Morridon, who knew the jewelry trade. The old joke of

making little ones out of big ones no longer pertained to rock piles. It was serious business, and profitable,

If Nemo's swag totaled the million dollars that the crook had boasted, it would bring nearly twothirds of that

amount, after Morridon disposed of the gems. The few hundred thousand dollars lost in the transactions

would include Morridon's commission and the charges made by foreign gem cutters. Offsetting the loss

Nemo Javley would be ready to retire from the jewelsnatching racket when the disposal of the gems was

completed. He had staged crime on a bigtime scale. It was that very fact that made The Shadow consider

Those three names appeared in blue ink, as The Shadow wrote them, beneath the glowing lamp in his

sanctum. Nemo Javley could no longer be classed with Reds Lurthan and Tiger Hyrick. That pair had been

overloaded with "hot" goods that could not be easily handled. Nemo's stolen gems were cool.

Like Chink's bank swag and Devoort's racket money, Nemo's jewels were a prize that would suit a hidden

master crook. The Shadow knew exactly what had happened to Chink's spoils and Devoort's cash. Soon,

Chink and Devoort had been trapped through the keen methods of Gannet Seard. In both cases, there had

been time for a hidden hand to sweep the hidden spoils before the law could uncover the full game. The

police were still looking for Blackey Brenby. That was proof that the law could not prevent another cleanup

Proof, too, that Seard's deductions were too slow to fully serve the law. Though accurate, they were based on

long analysis, that usually meant delay. Offsetting that was the fact that Seard admittedly depended upon data

To push Seard's methods to a higher speed, The Shadow generously decided to supply his rival with needed

facts in the case of Nemo Javley. In this instance, The Shadow had gained a definite head start. He was

LEAVING the sanctum, The Shadow first rode past the building near Fourteenth Street; then traveled to the

street where Nemo's hideout was located. Afternoon was almost ended when he arrived at the Cobalt Club

Inside, he found Commissioner Weston. He had expected to meet his friend, for The Shadow had received a

Weston was surprised to see Cranston back so soon from Canada. Cranston quietly explained that he had

returned because of some unexpected business. He asked Weston how matters had progressed. The

"Blackey Brenby is a tartar," declared Weston. "He is a lone wolf, with no contacts. Seard has found it utterly

"Those led us nowhere, Cranston. Except to definitely establish Blackey as a superkiller."

"I read about a jewel robbery today," recalled Cranston. "Has Seard produced any theories concerning it?"

"Yes. He is working on the case. He believes that Nemo Javley is the crook responsible. Seard hopes to solve

the crime shortly; but he frankly doubts that he can trace Blackey Brenby. He thinks, though, that Blackey

There was a short lull in the conversation. Weston's remarks about Blackey's overconfidence apparently gave

"Speaking of bold criminals," remarked Cranston, "what has happened to that crazed killer, Creep Hoyran?"

"I'm glad you mentioned that," returned Weston. "We have allowed Creep to go far enough. I insisted that

Cranston remembered an important telephone call to a lawyer's office. He left Weston in the grillroom and

went to a telephone booth. He did not call a lawyer's office. Instead, he telephoned headquarters and was

connected with Joe Cardona. Across the wire, he spoke in the voice of The Shadow.

When he had finished that call, Cranston rejoined the commissioner. He estimated that Cardona would reach

the Cobalt Club within twenty minutes. Joe arrived in fifteen. He appeared excitedly in the grillroom, just as

"A tipoff from The Shadow!" puffed Cardona. "It's about Nemo Javley! He says he'll have Nemo located

two hours from now! He'll see that the word gets here to you, personally, commissioner!"

"In two hours!" exclaimed Weston. He turned to Cranston. "That will allow us time to see Seard first; then

Cranston's question was so natural that Weston never guessed it had a purpose. Very enthusiastically, Weston

"Of course! A capital idea!" Then, doubtfully: "Unless Seard has some objection. After all, we can not drag

"Because of Creep Hoyran. You told me that Seard agreed to let you trap the fellow. As I remember it, you

planned to bag Creep while Seard was absent from the house. By giving Creep a chance to sneak inside."

"Yes, that was the plan." Weston smiled approval. "Come! Let us start for Seard's. I shall tell him that he is to

IT was not quite dark when Weston's big car reached Seard's. In the thirdfloor study, the visitors found

Seard studying a new set of charts. The largeheaded investigator showed some surprise at the

"Nothing here," rumbled Seard, tapping a chart that bore the name of Blackey Brenby. "But this one, Nemo

Seard pulled down a big map of Manhattan. With a crayon, he drew a circle that included about a dozen city

"Nemo has a hideout," declared Seard, emphatically. "It is somewhere in that area!"

The deduction was accurate. Cranston's keen eyes saw that Seard had actually picked the neighborhood

"The question, though," continued Seard, "is whether or not Nemo has his swag at the hideout. I think that

he has stowed it elsewhere, in some other person's keeping. Who would that man be? A fence a crook or

"That is the question that I must answer before we move. I am going through lists of names" Seard

displayed some typewritten sheets "and I hope to find the answer. But it may take long."

Weston smiled. He told Seard of The Shadow's call to Joe Cardona. Weston's smile persisted, because he still

believed that Seard was The Shadow. Though Seard received the story with something of a frown, Weston

supposed that the expression was merely a pose. Good policy, thought Weston, on the part of Seard.

The investigator began to shake his head when Weston suggested that he dine at the Cobalt Club. The

commissioner promptly added the argument that Cranston had supplied. He reminded Seard of his promise to

"Cardona has arranged everything," declared Weston. "Immediately after dark, a cordon will form. It will

close in while we are dining at the Cobalt Club. Creep will be captured; the tipoff will come from The

"Very well." Seard turned to order Havlett to bring his hat and coat. "I shall accompany you."

THEY went downstairs in the elevator. Seard told Havlett to take the evening off, and to instruct the other

servants to do likewise. Bearing heavily on his cane, he limped down the steps to the commissioner's car.

Dusk had gathered during the short time spent at Seard's. As the big car passed a corner two blocks from

Seard's, Cranston was gazing from the window. He caught a flash of a hunched figure, sneaking from one

doorway to another. The crouched man was lugging a square box, very much like the large kit that Creep had

Creep would come to Seard's tonight, bringing a potent deaththrust. Thanks to The Shadow, Seard would

be absent. The law's trap would snap, to snare Creep Hoyran. As for The Shadow's message, it would arrive

at the Cobalt Club at the appointed hour; and Seard would be there, to learn its contents.

After that, events would move. They would shape exactly as The Shadow wanted them. Spurred by The

Shadow, the law would gain quick triumphs. There were three to come: first, the capture of Nemo Javley;

then the discovery of the stolen gems; finally, and most important of all, an end to the chain of supercrimes

Tonight, a mastermind of crime would find his game exposed. The Shadow had started the wheels in action;

The Shadow was confident that his rival would follow every lead that The Shadow gave him.

COMMISSIONER WESTON and his companions were sipping their afterdinner coffee when Joe Cardona

suddenly arrived in the grillroom. The ace inspector had been busy while Weston dined with Cranston and

"We got Creep!" he declared. "You'll need new wall paper, though, in that secondfloor parlor, Mr. Seard."

"We tried to get Creep alive," assured Joe, "but it didn't work. He got into the house; how he got in, we don't

know. He was in the secondfloor hall when we ran into him. He ducked into the parlor and we cornered

"Creep had a gun and he began to use it. We had to shoot. His shots were wild; but he kept on giving them,

even after he was full of bullets. If we'd slowed up, we'd have lost a couple of men."

Weston decided that the death of Creep Hoyran needed no further explanation. He asked if the killer had

"He was lugging a wooden tool kit with him," declared Joe. "That was all we got. It was the size of a suitcase

and it was about half full of tools. We haven't figured what Creep intended to do with it."

Seard was wrapped in thought. He was interested in Cardona's story. After a short while, Seard remarked,

"I should like to know what Creep intended as a deaththrust against me. Perhaps I shall find slight clues

"I am sorry, in a sense, that Creep is no longer at large. It intrigued me, the constant game of matching wits

against him. I did consider him harmless; and felt that I had a right to risk my life if others believed the

Seard might have said more, but for an interruption. A telegraph messenger had entered the grillroom; a

waiter was showing him to Weston's table. Receiving a telegram, the commissioner ripped it open. Tensely,

As he spoke, Weston eyed Seard and saw the investigator smile. That was significant to Weston. He had

expected a telephone call from The Shadow. Since a telegram had come instead, Weston was quite convinced

The commissioner did not observe the slight smile that also appeared upon the lips of his friend Cranston.

Cardona brought a telephone book and looked up the Yang Toy. He looked at Seard when he gave the

address. Again, the investigator smiled. The Chinese restaurant was definitely in the circled area where Seard

Obviously, the law's step was to capture Nemo. Weston began to map arrangements with Cardona. Cranston,

listening in almost indifferent fashion, kept his eyes upon Seard. He expected the investigator to amend the

"Let us first consider the consequences," warned Seard, interrupting Weston and Cardona. "If The Shadow's

tipoff is correct, we can trap Nemo at almost any time we choose. That, however, does not mean that we

"Maybe not," admitted Cardona. "I guess Nemo would be taking long chances, keeping the swag in a

"The gems must be elsewhere," decided Seard. "Like Rethlo's bank swag and Devoort's racket money. It

"Quite true," conceded Seard. His eyes had a roundish, meditative look. "We cannot afford to wait too long.

Nevertheless, it would be wise to know our next move. We had no next move with either Rethlo or Devoort."

The significance was plain. Both Weston and Cardona thought immediately of Blackey Brenby. They could

"If we wait one day," mused Seard. "Two days or possibly three we shall not be ahead of ourselves, as we

were before. Within that time, I may be able to reduce my list of names and learn the identity of the man who

Weston and Cardona were impressed. They knew that Seard could get results. His approximate location of

Nemo's hideout was the latest proof of his ability. Weston decided that Seard was right.

"We did move too soon on those other occasions," began the commissioner. "We should not make the same

THE interruption came from Cranston. It brought surprised looks from Weston and Cardona; a direct stare

"Purely as an observer," he said, in even tone, "I would state that the law was not ahead of time in the past.

On the contrary, it was belated. The facts themselves prove it. You found Chink Rethlo; but his loot was gone

when you reached Blackey's cellar. You trapped Devoort; his money had entirely disappeared.

"Perhaps if you had located Chink earlier, you would have reached Blackey in time. If you had moved against

Devoort, prior to his trip to Havana, you would certainly have found his collections in the safe with his

"My opinion may be worthless; nevertheless, I feel that I should give it. I would say that the sooner you trap

Nemo Javley, the greater will be your chances of finding his loot. You may gain clues to its location,

enabling you to surprise the man who holds the gems. In any event, you will increase your chance of

Cranston's calmtoned summary won Weston and Cardona. Both gave nods and looked to Seard. The

"Your theory has flaws," he told Cranston. "Nevertheless, it follows facts. To some degree, we have

overlooked the obvious. Frankly, I still believe that our stroke may be too soon. I grant, though, that it is

Seard was giving way to a majority opinion, largely to save his own prestige. If he continued to insist on

delay, and won out with such insistence, the burden would be entirely his own. Yet, in following good policy,

Seard also showed graciousness. He was not at all irked by Cranston's suggestion. On the contrary, his tone

"We shall move at once!" decided Weston, enthusiastically. "And tonight, Seard, we shall have you with us.

You still need facts. Perhaps you can find some prompt clues on the scene of crime."

"Quite possibly," agreed Seard, in a pleased tone. "Yes, it may work that way. The adventure intrigues me,

commissioner. But remember" he turned to Cardona "you must do your utmost to capture Nemo alive.

TWENTY minutes later, the law was on the move. Plainclothes men were closing in upon the Yang Toy

Cafe. Outside, a patrolling watcher spotted them. It was Hawkeye. The spotter sneaked to a doorway and

From a front window in the Chinese restaurant, two diners saw the tiny flares from the darkened doorway

At the stairs, a bowing Chinese waiter helped them don hats and coats. Past the line of coat racks was a

telephone booth; beyond that a stretch of hall. Cliff stepped to the booth, started to fumble with the

chainhung telephone book; then spoke gruffly to the Chinaman. The waiter approached him.

Cliff thrust a folded slip of paper into the waiter's hand; with it, a wadded fivedollar bill. He motioned

"Sneak this note up to the guy on the third floor," said Cliff, in a gruff undertone. "Keep the dough for

The Chinaman nodded. Cliff headed for the front stairs. Harry was at the bottom, wigwagging for speed. Cliff

joined his fellow agent in a hurry. Both were leisurely, however, when they stepped out to the sidewalk.

Hawkeye was gone from his doorway. Half a minute later, Harry and Cliff were also clear of the

neighborhood. Right after that, the cordon tightened. Detectives entered the front and rear portals below the

On the third floor, the Chinese waiter was thumping softly at a closed door. A growled voice demanded

"Message for you; Mlister Javley," replied the Chinaman, stooping to the keyhole. "Fellow hand it to me

The folded paper went beneath. Sung Look started downstairs, unfolding the fivespot that Cliff had tendered

him. Sung Look had reached the telephone booth when he guessed that something was wrong. Then, it was

A detective pounced upon Sung Look; dragged him to the front of the hallway. The startled waiter saw a

squad of headquarters men in the cafe itself. They had rounded up diners along with the personnel.

Joe Cardona was in charge of the invaders. He spoke to the detective who brought in Sung Look.

Joe concentrated on Sung Look; caught the waiter's hand before it could pocket the fivedollar bill. Sung

"Tapee door soft like this," he explained, with a motion of his hand. "Mlister Javley, he listen."

IN the confines of his thirdstory room, Nemo Javley was studying the note that Sung Look had slipped him.

Longfaced, pasty of complexion, Nemo had squinty eyes that looked puzzled. He mouthed a lighted

Folding the paper, Nemo thrust it in his vest pocket. He swung as he heard a soft rap. Moving toward the

Nemo let his revolver slide into his pocket. He unlocked the door. Instantly, a surge of men came through,

with leveled guns. As Nemo tried to whip away, a window crashed; its shade shot upward. Nemo saw another

Then the flood was upon him. Lost beneath a half dozen attackers, Nemo was flattened. One hand plucked

away his gun; others twisted his arms behind him and clamped handcuffs on his wrists.

When Nemo was dragged to his feet, he faced a captor whom he recognized. The crook snarled at sight of Joe

Thanks to The Shadow's tipoff and the ruse that followed it, Nemo Javley had been taken alive.

COMMISSIONER WESTON arrived soon afterward. He was accompanied by Seard and Cranston. After a

brief report from Cardona, the commissioner gave the nod to Seard. It was the investigator's cue to quiz

Seard came straight to the point. He asked Nemo what he had done with the jewels. Nemo's response was a

"Where do you get that jewel stuff? I never went in for sparklers! You can't pin anything on me!"

Dryly, Seard outlined a few facts of Nemo's past. The crook merely shrugged his shoulders when he heard

them. Seard demanded to know why Nemo had given up an excellent apartment to live in this cheap room.

"I've been going straight, that's why," he insisted. "I couldn't pay the rent any longer. I didn't like this joint,

but it's all I can afford. You're just cluck enough to think it's a hideout! That sure is a funny one!"

The laugh that Nemo gave was not even strained. The crook actually seemed to enjoy his own joke. He added

another laugh, when Seard questioned him about the message that Sung Look had brought upstairs.

"It's in my vest pocket," guffawed Nemo. "Some guy must have sent it for a gag! Take a gander at it,

Cardona found the message and handed it to Seard. The investigator pondered over the numbers. He stroked

his chin and eyed Nemo wisely. All the while, the prisoner grinned, Weston and Cardona studied the message

"Obviously a code," declared Seard. "Too brief, though, to crack by any ordinary process. Come outside a

Weston followed with Cardona. All the while, Cranston had been watching detectives search the room. The

dicks were finding nothing and probably would finish emptyhanded, if Nemo's grin could be taken as an

accurate barometer. Noting that the commissioner had gone to the hall, Cranston strolled out to join the group

Seard was pocketing the message when Cranston arrived. Quietly, the investigator announced:

"We must find out all that Nemo knows. There is one way to do it. We can use my improved lie detector, as I

"It will take about half an hour to set up the equipment. Havlett can attend to it. I shall call him."

Seard went downstairs to the telephone booth. He came back, three minutes later.

"Havlett has not returned," he declared. "He generally stays out late, when I give him an evening off. Since

no one is at the house, I shall have to go there and prepare the equipment myself."

"Not yet," he declared. "It would be best to give him a sustained quiz, first. Inspector Cardona can handle that

"Not to get very far," replied Joe, "unless Nemo softens. He don't look like he intends to."

"Allow longer then. Keep quizzing him until I telephone here. I shall depend upon your report, inspector,

when we use the lie detector. Do not tell Nemo that he is to meet me again. I shall have some surprises ready

SEARD went downstairs. Weston and Cranston followed Cardona into Nemo's room. The crook was puffing

a cigarette that an obliging detective had placed between his lips. Cardona's first act was to pluck the cigarette

"Bad stuff, Joe," mocked Nemo. "There's a law against pitching lighted butts out of windows. Maybe some of

"Cut the wisecracks!" gruffed Cardona. "I've got some questions, and you're going to answer them!"

There was an interruption. It came from Cranston. Calmly, he motioned for Cardona to wait. Eyeing Nemo,

"I saw you not long ago, at the Hotel Metrolite. You were talking with a man whom I happened to know. A

"Morridon is no longer stopping at the Metrolite," resumed Cranston. "Possibly he would have reason to let

The significant tone brought a sudden panic to Nemo. He remembered the mysterious message that he had

Weston and Cardona saw Nemo's expression. They were ready for the question that Cranston put to them.

Weston recalled the first number as 924. When Cardona repeated the others 4, 38, 27 Weston nodded that

Joe was right. Obviously, it could not be a telephone number. Weston said as much.

"The first number is a very large one," mused Cranston. "It could refer to a page in a large book. Perhaps the

"The column. After that, the name, counting from the top. Suppose we check on it. We can consider the

LEAVING Nemo, they went to the telephone booth on the second floor. Cranston found Page 924; placed his

finger on the fourth column. The thirtyeighth listing from the top was the Stanton Apartments, located only

"That explains the last number," assured Cranston. "No. 27 signifies an apartment. Suppose we telephone,

Cardona made the telephone call; he gained the prompt news that Apartment 27 was occupied by a Mr.

As Cardona came from the booth, Cranston was looking through the directory again. He found the address of

"He does know Nemo," inserted Cranston. "Therefore, it would be preferable to go to that office,

Weston became as excited as a bloodhound on the scent. He gestured to Cardona, with the exclamation:

"We must start at once! Call Seard first, to let him know what we have learned!"

"I can notify Seard," suggested Cranston, quietly. "I can go to his house by cab. A quick trip should enable

The plan suited Weston. When they reached the street, the commissioner boarded his official car and Cardona

joined him. Followed by squad cars, they started for the office building near Fourteenth Street.

Soon afterward, Lamont Cranston boarded a taxi at a nearby corner. The cab that he chose was the

INVASION of the tenstory office building was a simple matter for the law. A cordon was formed around it;

entry was gained through a lower window. All that took time; but haste seemed unnecessary, thanks to a dim

beacon that shone from the fifth floor. The light filtered through a yellow window shade; and it marked the

Weston went up the dark stairway with Cardona. Two detectives accompanied them, and others remained

The light through its glass pane was dim. It indicated a darkened outer office, with an inner private one that

Cardona tried the outside door. It gave. The reason was apparent, when Cardona viewed the lock. The office

was protected by an automatic burglar alarm that operated when the door was locked.

Once inside the outer office, Cardona saw that the door opposite was half closed. He motioned to the others

Halfway to the inner office, Cardona stopped. He gained a slanted view through the connecting door. He saw

a man who lay half across a desk; bound, and with adhesive plaster spread across his mouth. As Weston drew

There was a motion across the desk. Into the light came a stooping figure, only its gloved hands visible. Upon

the desk, those hands planted an array of sparkling gems that the looter had just taken from Morridon's safe.

"Blackey Brenby!" he told Weston, in undertone. "He's gotten here to grab the swag that Nemo placed with

Morridon! We'll stick by the outside door. We'll be ready for Blackey when he comes out!"

Weston was content to let Cardona take charge. Joe found the light switch by the outer door; but did not press

it. Shoulder to shoulder, the invaders waited by the wall. They heard a stir from the inner office. The light

Joe waited. He was giving Blackey time to come from the inner office. Creaking boards told that the

mastercrook was making his approach. Figuring the right moment, Cardona suddenly pressed the light

switch. The outer office was flooded with glow. Four men were aiming for the doorway where they expected

Instead, the space was vacant. The door was still half closed. A voice spoke from beyond it; its harsh tone

To back the threat, a revolver muzzle projected through the wide crack of the connecting door. The man who

handled that gun was completely protected by his position. He could deal death to any invader who opened

REVOLVERS dropped. Hands reached reluctantly. It was Cardona who gruffed, sourly:

The revolver was pulled from the floor crack. A half second later it appeared past the door edge. The barrier

opened wide. Through stepped the supercrook who held his foemen covered. He came into the light.

Amazed gasps sounded from the lips of four helpless men. The surprise that had trapped them was nothing

Weston, Cardona, the two detectives with them all had expected to view the longsought Blackey Brenby.

Instead, they saw a person whom they knew much better; for they had been with him only half an hour ago.

Then, he had been with the law; at present, he stood against it. The insidious expression upon his face told

that he could be as ruthless in dealing with men of the law as he had been in his efforts against men of crime.

The supercrook who had turned the tables upon his wouldbe trappers was The Shadow's rival, Gannet

TO Commissioner Weston, Seard's selfrevelation was unbelievable. The two detectives were completely

stupefied. One man of the threatened four alone realized the menace that would be instantly due. The one

Joe could tell from Seard's glare that the fellow intended to waste no time with words. Seard was

unencumbered by his cane, a proof that he had never needed it. His left hand was carrying a fattened satchel

As with Chink's loot, and Devoort's, Seard intended a getaway with Nemo's. He had handled Morridon so

that the fellow had not recognized him; therefore, Morridon could live. But Seard could not afford to spare

It was that fact that roused Cardona to wild action. Joe was ready to risk his own life for the others. He

stiffened as he met Seard's glare; then, with all his speed, Cardona made a mad lunge for the supercrook.

Death seemed certain for Cardona. Oddly, it did not come. Something happened too rapidly for Seard to

outrace it with a gunshot. Blackness drove like a living avalanche straight from the opened door behind

That figure from the darkened inner office struck Seard in the center of his back. The schemer took a long,

sprawling jolt. His spidery arms sped outward. From one hand scaled the revolver. The other lost its hold

Past Seard, Cardona saw The Shadow, finishing his terrific surge. He heard the cloaked fighter's quickhissed

Joe changed direction; fell upon Seard before the flattened crook could regain his gun. Weston and the

detectives arrived from the outer door. In half a minute they had Seard handcuffed in a chair.

Seard's captors looked for The Shadow. They saw him at the outer door. He was cloaking an automatic that

he did not need. Both Weston and Cardona expected a statement from The Shadow, who alone could explain

"You studied ways of crime," pronounced The Shadow, "until you learned that you could trail them more

rapidly than the law. That was when you decided to put your ability to profit, by preying upon criminals

Seard met The Shadow's burning gaze. The master crook still retained his confidence.

"You located Chink Rethlo's hideout," declared The Shadow. "You linked Blackey Brenby as the man who

held the loot. You rifled Blackey's vault; then arranged for the law to capture Chink. You showed the trail to

Blackey after the news of Chink's death had become known. That served to explain the missing swag."

"You learned of Louis Devoort and his racket connection," he told Seard. "You took Devoort's funds. You let

the law have Devoort. Mystery surrounded the disappearance of the money. You laid its theft upon Blackey

"You did that safely. It gave the law a trail that would never be completed. Blackey Brenby was already dead

even before the time that Chink was taken because you murdered him. His body, too, was gone. You

The words struck home to Joe Cardona. The ace remembered Seard's tests with the dead kitten. A name

"Homer Lane would have recognized you as a patron of the Rickshaw Club," stated The Shadow to Seard.

"You bribed him with mysterious funds to stay away from New York. He returned. You let him come to your

"You knew that Lane was crippled; that Creep would mistake him for you. Lane's death was therefore

another murder against you, Seard. It made Creep useful, as you had hoped he might be."

The Shadow's analysis explained much to Cardona. It answered one question that had always bothered Joe.

He had never seen any good reason for Seard to let Creep keep on with those attempted deaththrusts.

"You wanted two things more," resumed The Shadow, his gaze fixed steadily on Seard. "A chance to further

establish Blackey as a living criminal; also, another opportunity to add to your spoils. You thought of all that

"You contacted three bigshots. Two of them Reds Lurthan and Tiger Hyrick came to meet Blackey

Brenby. You murdered them, because they had nothing that you wanted. You left a trail that pointed to

The statement was a clincher. It explained itself. Cardona remembered the clues that had furnished the

supposed trail to Blackey. All were items that Seard had easily acquired after he had murdered Blackey. Not

"I arrived there also," reminded The Shadow, "giving you an opportunity that you also desired. You failed to

take my life. Instead, you gave me added evidence of your criminal career. After that, I foresaw your next

move. Since Nemo Javley did not come to the meeting, you knew that he had plans of his own.

"I beat you to Nemo's trail. Tonight, my message forced your move. Nemo was captured. On him was found

a note that he said he did not understand. You did not believe him; but he spoke the truth.

"That note came from me. Its purpose was to bring you here, in quest of Nemo's loot. I arrived ahead of you,

intending to summon the law. Since the police arrived of their own accord, that was unnecessary."

TRUE to form, The Shadow had preserved his identity of Cranston. Weston would have been amazed, had he

known that his friend had played the double part. In fact, The Shadow's early arrival seemed to disprove it.

Seard had guessed the meaning of the numbered note. He had checked on the telephone book at the Chinese

cafe. He had detoured by way of Morridon's apartment house to learn who occupied Apartment 27. After that,

Meanwhile, The Shadow as Cranston had put the law straight. The Shadow had come here by cab; made

his entry while the police were planning their cordon. He had seen Morridon at the open safe in the inner

office. The Shadow was out of sight when Seard arrived, only a few minutes later.

There was one man who pieced the actual facts. Gannet Seard pictured The Shadow as Lamont Cranston.

Shrewdly, he kept that knowledge to himself. It was something that he thought he could use later, for Seard

The Shadow's facts were given. He turned and stepped through the doorway to the hall. His lips issued a

chilly, whispered laugh that seemed to speak a final settlement for Seard. The tone merely brought a sneer to

"Why not take off these handcuffs?" he questioned. "Come up to the house with me. I shall give you some

"We shall go to your house," decided Weston. "But you can wear the handcuffs until we get there."

WHEN they arrived at Seard's, they found Cranston waiting outside. He expressed surprise when he heard the

Weston used Seard's door key. They went up to the investigator's study. There, Weston removed Seard's

Seard pointed to a desk drawer. In it, Weston found cash and negotiable securities that totaled more than half

"Wrong, commissioner," mocked Seard. "Those funds are mine! You can never prove otherwise. All listed

He pointed to another drawer. Weston found a bundle twice the size of the first, all in cash. He could not help

"Wrong again," gibed Seard. "No one can prove that a dollar of this cash was ever in Devoort's vault!"

He leaned across the desk, to tell the listeners something more. Seard's eyes were fixed on Cranston in

"Technically, Blackey Brenby is still alive. He will remain so, until you find his body. Without the corpus

delicti, you have no case! Your own eyes saw Creep Hoyran murder Homer Lane. As for Reds and Tiger, the

Reaching across the desk, Seard tapped the open suitcase that was crammed with Nemo's stolen gems. Seard

"You can keep these," he declared. "They belong to the law. That fact" his smile broadened "is something

that pleases me. Let me remind you, commissioner, that I was working for the law, under your order! I had a

right to follow any trail that opened! It was my privilege to bind Morridon and remove the gems from his

"Because I did not recognize you," interjected Seard. "I was looking through a door crack. After I came into

"I intended to put my gun away. A mere mistake, that was all. No one suffered from it; for not a shot was

fired. The revolver, by the way, was one that you gave me a permit to carry. I would appreciate its return,

"You can't get away with this, Seard!" he shouted. "I'm going to put you under arrest for murder! You'll go to

the electric chair before the law is through with you! You'll burn for those crimes, Seard!"

"Since you seem determined to arrest me," remarked Seard, "I suppose that I should notify my attorney. Have

"Telephone to all the lawyers that you want!" roared Weston. "You'll stand trial, Seard! I tell you again, you'll

JOE CARDONA was standing doubtful. He saw the problems that lay ahead. Seard had certainly covered the

evidence. With smart lawyers on his side, the master crook could laugh at indictments. Worst of all, as Joe

saw it, Seard had appropriated more than two million dollars that the law would have to return to him.

In all of Cardona's experiences in fighting crime, none had ever reached the magnitude of this. For sheer

audacity, Seard was the tops. He was still jumps ahead of the law, and promised to remain so.

One person, alone, could hope to deal with Seard, in Cardona's opinion. That person was The Shadow.

Seard, himself, had the same thought. He mentioned it, ignoring both Weston and Cardona. His hand on the

"It is a stalemate again," declared Seard. "I am hedged on every side, and yet the game is not lost and never

will be! Of course, there is still The Shadow, but even he is helpless! You see, I am still an innocent man. If

The Shadow should make a move to take my life, he would become an attempted murderer! Not I!"

There was no reply from Cranston. His eyes The Shadow's eyes were looking toward the telephone, as

Seard turned to deliver another gibe at Weston. That phone was a compact one of the modern type, resting in

a cradle. It looked like the one that had always been on Seard's desk; but The Shadow noted a slight

The Shadow's thoughts jumped instantly to another telephone that he remembered: a dummy instrument that

he had tried to use during those menacing moments in Creep Hoyran's underground lair. The Shadow's train

"I shall never spend a day in prison!" sneered Seard. "As for a death sentence, that is preposterous! I shall

THE result was stupendous. With his action, Seard completed a hidden connection. Sparks burst from the

telephone. The lights of the room went down, as a huge voltage was diverted through Seard's body. The

electric jolt was terrific. Seard writhed as his form came erect. His face was contorted in a horrible twist.

Creep Hoyran had penetrated further than the detectives had guessed. He had placed the tricked telephone,

and had wired it to the house current. The juice was far greater than in an ordinary house circuit; high voltage

A singeing odor permeated the dimmed room, as Weston and Cardona sprang to give Seard aid. With speed

unusual for Cranston, The Shadow blocked the rescuers. It would be death to any one who touched Seard,

The crackling current lashed Seard into a spin, accompanied by a flash of sparks. His fall snapped his hand

from the telephone. The circuit was broken. As the crackle ceased, the roomlights rose. The witnesses

Creep's final death snare had succeeded. Like the crazed killer who had planted it, Gannet Seard was dead.

The defiant words: "I shall never burn!" had been his last. That defy had caused The Shadow to issue a

silent death sentence against the master murderer who planned to thwart the law.

Gannet Seard, superman of crime who posed as The Shadow's rival, had died with a final lie upon his evil