THE KILLER ......................................................................................................................................................1

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

CHAPTER I. AT THE PIER...................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. THE MINES OF DURANGO.........................................................................................5

CHAPTER III. THE SECRET LIST.....................................................................................................10

CHAPTER IV. THE MEXICAN SAILS ...............................................................................................15

CHAPTER V. MEN SPEAK OF DEATH............................................................................................19

CHAPTER VI. MULLRICK MOVES..................................................................................................24

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

CHAPTER VIII. FROM THE MARQUEE ...........................................................................................32

CHAPTER IX. THE SECOND LETTER.............................................................................................37

CHAPTER X. ONE THREE SEVEN EIGHT......................................................................................42

CHAPTER XI. THE POISONED PIN..................................................................................................48

CHAPTER XII. THE THIRD LETTER ................................................................................................52

CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN ON LONG ISLAND ...............................................................................56

CHAPTER XIV. THE SPOKEN CLEW ...............................................................................................60

CHAPTER XV. UNDER COVER........................................................................................................64

CHAPTER XVI. THE FINAL CLEW..................................................................................................67

CHAPTER XVII. IN THE TOWER ......................................................................................................73

CHAPTER XVIII. THE CAPTURE ......................................................................................................77

CHAPTER XIX. THE ACCUSATION .................................................................................................80

CHAPTER XX. THE GRAY FEDORA...............................................................................................84

CHAPTER XXI. ONE AGAINST SIX .................................................................................................86

BILLOWS of heavy fog were swirling from the North River. The lowhanging clouds that had swept

Manhattan with an early evening drizzle were dipping to meet the waters of the harbor.

Trapped smoke which could not rise amid the moisturecharged atmosphere, added a smudgy tone to the

thick mist. The fog seemed a living monster. From its depths came the hoarse, raucous blasts of steamship

whistles, accompanied by the highpitched, staccato blares of tugboats. These penetrating sounds, their

sources invisible, gave the fog a weird existence that might well have been its own.

Moreover, the fog possessed a motion. The piers along the Manhattan river front broke its creeping mass;

from the rifts thus caused came little swirls of dense mist that resembled the clutching tentacles of a

This illusion was most apparent upon the lighted stretch of the Central American Shipping Pier. Powerful

incandescents, set at regular intervals, seemed feeble as they battled against the blotting inroads of the fog.

One gust of thick cloudiness stretched its enveloping folds completely along the pier; it cleared reluctantly,

and left spots of misty blackness that dispelled themselves like vanishing ghosts.

A dock worker, pushing a trunk truck along the pier, stopped suddenly to stare at an obscure corner where a

patch of fog was melting like black smoke. The truck pusher's jaw dropped. His hands became momentarily

In the center of that dissipating mass the man had seen a pair of burning eyes, fixed upon him in a steady

As the dock worker managed to grip the handles of the trucks the weird hallucination ended. Only shadowy

blackness remained where fog had been. There was no further sign of the brilliant orbs. They had vanished

with the haze, as if some phantom creature had returned to the spaces from which it had materialized.

The dock worker moved along. He shuddered as he threw a quick glance back over his shoulder. His

footsteps dwindled with the squeaking roll of his truck. Then, from that obscure corner came a sighing sound,

a soft, throbbing laugh that was audible only in the proximity of the spot where it was uttered.

OUT of the blackness stepped a figure. A phantom shape of blackness, it moved along the pier with silent

stride. Its form became evident as it stopped between two piles of boxes. Revealing light betrayed its

characteristics, but none of the men upon the dock could see it because of the stacked boxes.

Even under flickering glare, the creature which had come from the blotted corner seemed more spectral than

human. Tall, motionless, this being was a statuesque form clad entirely in black.

A long cloak of sable hue hung from hidden shoulders. Hands were garbed in thin black gloves. The upturned

collar of the cloak hid the face of the personage who wore it. The broad brim of a black slouch hat completely

Strange though this shape appeared, there were men in New York who would have known its identity had

they been present at this spot. Evil men would have recognized the masterful personage, but they would not

The figure clad in solid black was The Shadow. Mysterious master of darkness, he was one who warred with

crime. Where evil brewed, The Shadow appeared. Silent, invisible in motion, The Shadow was the most

Many had heard of The Shadow; few had seen him. Minions of crime who had met him eye to eye had never

lived to tell the details of such meetings. The Shadow, when he watched, was a fleeting shape of blackness.

The Shadow, when he struck, was a being of wrath who came from darkness and returned to it when his work

What was The Shadow's purpose on this North River pier? Only The Shadow knew, and the soft tones of

whispered mirth that came from his hidden lips were the token of The Shadow's readiness. Those throbbing

touches of mockery were the echo of shrill blasts which came from the whistles of panting tugboats, just

Pale lights revealed a massive bulk that came swishing slowly inward. Spattering wavelets licked greedily

against walls of steel. A large steamship, its twenty thousand tons exaggerated by the effect of the fog, was

Cleaved fog billowed. The ship seemed to cut the atmosphere as it did the water.

As mist swirled everywhere, The Shadow stepped from behind the boxes. His tall form glided toward the

edge of the pier, swerving with the eddies of blackened mist, unnoticed by any human eye. The Shadow

reached a large post near a light. There his form merged with the darkness. Stationed invisible, The Shadow

Cries along the dock. Men were mooring the liner. A gangplank clattered from the side. Sailors appeared.

Luggage was coming from the ship. Suitcases and trunks, lettered with identifying labels, were stacked upon

THE SHADOW'S piercing eyes were steadily turned toward one stack of luggage that lay beneath a placard

which bore the letter "M." The pile of baggage was no more than a dozen feet from the post where The

Shadow stood. The invisible watcher had chosen this vantage point with definite purpose.

Two men walked into the light. One, his overcoat buttoned tight against the chilling mist, was tall and

stoopshouldered. His face set beneath the brim of a gray fedora hat, showed him to be an individual of

determination. At the same time, his quick, shrewd glances marked him as one who had the ability to keep his

own plans to himself. Even in the dim light, the man's visage showed a tan that could only have been gained

The other man who approached the pile of baggage was obviously a Mexican the servant of the first. He

was short, squat, and placid of manner, but his face showed the crafty steadfastness that betokened Indian

ancestry. The man was a mestizo one of the interracial group that make up the bulk of Mexican

A customs officer approached the pair; simultaneously a ship's officer hurried from the gangplank and

approached the customs man. He offered words of explanation to the government agent.

"This is Mr. Mullrick," said the ship's officer, pointing to the tall man with the buttoned overcoat. "Harland

Mullrick. The Mexican is his servant man, Pascual. All the luggage is together."

The customs officer returned a mumbled reply. He conversed with the ship's officer, then nodded and began

an examination of the baggage. Evidently all had been arranged for Pascual's entry into the United States.

The examination completed, the customs officer applied the necessary labels. Mullrick's luggage was loaded

The Shadow followed. His fleeting form became a thing invisible as it swerved to the very edge of the pier

There were hundreds of eyes upon the ship and the pier, yet not one pair viewed the phantom that traveled

almost through their midst. When The Shadow had reached the bow of the ship, he was ahead of Mullrick

and Pascual. There, against the blackened wall of the passenger room, he swung inward toward the gate,

The small truck that carried trunks and bags was between The Shadow and the customs checker. As Mullrick,

Pascual, and the official watched a dock worker push the truck through from the pier, The Shadow, with a

stooping glide, swept forward and passed the watchers under cover of the luggage. Beyond the gate, The

Peering from darkness, The Shadow surveyed a man who had alighted from a taxicab. This individual was a

hardfaced fellow of medium height, who wore a heavy overcoat and leather gloves. He was looking for

The Shadow's piercing gaze, turned toward Mullrick and Pascual, found the same objective which the waiting

man had chosen. As Mullrick advanced, the man from the taxi grinned and peeled off his right glove. He

"Hello, Jerry," was Mullrick's greeting. "Thought you'd be here. I see you have a cab."

"Sure thing," returned Jerry. "I didn't want to chance you missing me by calling my hotel."

MULLRICK turned to Pascual. He spoke to the servant in a mixture of Spanish and English, finishing his

"Senor Herston," explained Mullrick. "They say 'Mr. Herston' here in New York. Savvy, Pascual?"

"Si, senor," responded the impassive servant. "Senor Herston. He ees Meestaire Herston. He ees the man you

"I'll give them the address," responded Herston. He walked to the dock man who stood beside the truck, and

wrote an address on a large sheet of paper. "You can arrange for the delivery?" he questioned.

The man laid the sheet of paper on a trunk and fumbled in his pocket for tags to attach to the various pieces of

baggage. Mullrick and Pascual were on their way to the cab. Herston turned to follow them.

A gloved hand came from darkness. Creeping forward, it plucked the sheet of paper from atop the trunk. The

eyes of The Shadow read the address which Jerry Herston had written. "Apartment 4H, Belisarius Arms," a

street address in the Nineties; this was the information which The Shadow gained.

The shipping man had found his tags. He looked for the sheet of paper. Not seeing it on the trunk, he looked

toward the flooring. As his glance went downward, the sheet of paper suddenly crept upward, projected by an

invisible hand. It again lay upon the trunk. Standing up, the dock man noticed it. He scratched his head as he

How that paper had gone and returned was a mystery to him. He wondered if his eyes had deceived him. His

eyes, again, were missing something. They did not see the obscure form that dwindled off toward the street

The taxicab had gone. The Shadow had seen it turn up the broad avenue which follows the North River.

Again, The Shadow's form was momentarily in view as it passed beneath a light, then it faded.

A MINUTE afterward, a trim coupe pulled away from a parking space, and took the direction in which the

Guided by a driver whose form was lost in its interior, the coupe whirled northward, picking spots through

the occasional traffic, gaining swift headway as it neared the incline leading to the elevated express highway

Its motor humming, the coupe shot by a taxi that was on the upper highway. The Shadow's sparkling eyes

glimpsed the occupants of the cab. Harland Mullrick, Jerry Herston, Pascual the trio formed a silent group.

A meeting at the dock; three men riding to an apartment; The Shadow already cognizant of their destination.

There could be but one answer to the situation. The Shadow had an interest in the affairs of these three.

When The Shadow sought the answer to a problem, it was because he scented impending crime. Stealthy and

invisible, he had a way of discovering secrets which would enable him to work in the cause of justice. A lone

wolf who battled crime, inspired by reasons of his own, The Shadow used methods that baffled all who

There was a reason for the meeting between Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston. When they reached their

destination, these two men would discuss affairs. That conference would be illuminating. Therein lay the

When Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston talked together, they would be in the presence of an unseen

THE Belisarius Arms was an old, but wellkept, apartment house that represented a former era in Manhattan

building construction. Access to the upper stories was gained by means of an automatic elevator, which

Apartment 4H was at one end of the dimly lighted fourthfloor corridor. Its identifying figure and letter

gleamed from a dark panel in shining brass that was visible from twenty feet away. This door, the entrance to

A slight swish sounded in the corridor, yet no figure was visible along the dark walls. The first manifestation

of a living form was when the mark 4H on the door was suddenly blotted from view.

Only at close range could anyone have distinguished the outline at the door. The Shadow had reached his

Something clicked in the lock. Its sound was muffled. Under the probing of a steel pick, the lock turned. The

A tiny flashlight began its inspection. A ray that sometimes dwindled to the size of a gold piece, then

Nothing escaped The Shadow's keen eye. The furnished living room, the bedrooms adjoining, the kitchenette

and its compact closet: all these came under observation. The arrangement of the doors and windows was

something which The Shadow studied. Every means of outlet from the apartment was discovered by the

investigator, every passage from one room to another was studied by hidden eyes.

The Shadow's light fell upon a telephone table in the corner of the living room. An instant later, the ray

disappeared. The Shadow's keen ear had detected the arrival of the man from the taxicab.

With a soft swish denoting his quick turn in darkness, The Shadow headed directly toward the door of the

Seemingly, The Shadow had gone to the one spot where discovery would be certain when the others entered.

Such, however, was not the case. As the door of the apartment opened inward, The Shadow's tall form

JERRY HERSTON entered. He turned on a light in the entry. A single ceiling lamp showed the faces of

Herston and his companions. Harland Mullrick and Pascual joined the man who had entered.

As the menial reached forward to obey, Jerry Herston opened a door at the side of the entry. The edge of this

barrier overlapped the large door which gave entrance to the apartment. Hence when Pascual closed the door

through which the arrivals had come, the figure of The Shadow still remained unseen. The silent investigator

"Here's the clothes closet," remarked Herston. "We can hang our hats and coats in here. Get the things out of

The Shadow had anticipated this action. Boldly, he had chosen the entry as his hiding place. As Mullrick and

Pascual hung up their hats and coats, Herston waited. He heard Mullrick speak to the Mexican. Pascual

responded and entered the living room. He found the light and switched on the illumination.

"Just an old Mexican custom," remarked Mullrick, with a laugh. "It will do well in New York, too. I always

Herston grunted understanding as he hung up his coat and hat. It was plain that Herston recognized some

As Mullrick entered the living room, Herston turned to follow him, and with the same motion swung the

closet door shut. As Herston reached the living room, The Shadow's tall form moved after him; then stopped

as it reached the archway between the entry and room. Here, from a new vantage point, The Shadow could

IN the light of the living room, Harland Mullrick and Jerry Herston seated themselves and lighted cigarettes.

Neither man observed the long streak of blackness that extended from the entry across the carpet of the living

room. That patch of ominous darkness was the only visible token of The Shadow's presence.

The opening statement of the conversation came from Jerry Herston. It was something in the nature of a

"Everything went well, I suppose," said Herston. "When you wrote me that you were coming back from

Mexico City, and wanted an apartment here, I figured you had made out as you expected."

"Yes," returned Mullrick suavely. "I am more interested, for the moment, to learn what you have been doing

Mullrick's gaze was steady. He was watching Herston's face to make sure that his companion was not

"Jerry," he said, "I have work for you. I can't run risks, however, by employing a man who may be in wrong

with the police. So far as your connections with the underworld are concerned, I can see definite advantages.

"Not a bit of it!" broke in Herston emphatically. "Listen, Mullrick, I can get anything I want from the big

shots. Anything. That's because I keep away from crime. You know what I do for them. When they want a

little private detective work done, they don't pop in on an agency. They come to me. They know I can keep

"Exactly," responded Mullrick. "I know it, too. That's why I have used you for previous investigations. I just

wanted to be sure that you hadn't stepped over the boundary line during my absence. I may need you for

"I'll be Jerry on the spot. I can give you anything, including alibis. I know the ways of these New York dicks.

I only ask you one thing, Mullrick. Give me the whole lay right at the start. If I know what's been doing in

"I'm coming to that," declared Mullrick, with a slow smile. "I'm satisfied now that I can count on your aid

Mullrick arose abruptly and went to the telephone. He called a number, and Jerry Herston heard his end of the

"Hello," said Mullrick. "Tribune Hotel?... Room 918. Hello... Hello... Ah, is that you, Santo?... Mullrick

speaking... Yes, here in New York... I have an apartment, listed in my name... In the lobby, yes... Belisarius

Mullrick hung up the receiver. He turned to face Jerry Herston. He noted the quizzical look upon the

Mullrick smiled as he sat down. He produced a large sheet of paper from his pocket, and unfolded it upon a

"We have a few minutes," explained Mullrick. "In that time, I shall give you the inside information. Look at

"You were there?" questioned Herston in surprise. "That's a long way from Mexico City "

"I was in Mexico City," interposed Mullrick quietly. "My business, however, had to do with affairs in

Durango. That, Jerry, is one of the richest portions of all Mexico. The mineral content of its mines is

Herston's eyes gleamed as they stared at the map. The man listened intently as Mullrick continued.

"THIRTY years ago," said the man who had come from Mexico, "the Mexican government located the

famous lost mines of Durango, which had been covered up by Indians during the Spanish conquest. The

mines were regained during the period in which Porfirio Diaz ruled Mexico as virtual dictator. Diaz wisely

decided to keep their discovery unknown until the time should come for their development.

"The mines were watched by secret agents. When the Diaz regime was overthrown in 1911, the agents

remained loyal, and retained their posts, confident that Diaz would be restored to the presidency. Mexico was

"In 1915, however, Pancho Villa gained partial control of three Mexican states: Sonora, Chihuahua, and

Sinaloa. One of Villa's lieutenants penetrated from Sinaloa into the neighboring state of Durango. There, by

pure accident, the roving bandits found and massacred the small Diaz garrison which still protected the lost

Mullrick's finger was upon the map. It indicated the shieldshaped state of Durango, and ran along the border

"At that time," resumed Mullrick, "General Obregon was battling Pancho Villa. The bandits who had located

the lost mines cut back toward Sinaloa, were engaged by Obregon's forces, and were wiped out. The few who

were not killed in skirmish were executed by firing squads. However, certain of Obregon's soldiers learned

"A few months ago, the Mexican government began to investigate this old story of the lost mines. The

present government is opposed to granting concessions to foreigners. Hence, when I arrived in Mexico City

and offered to exploit the lost mines, my proposal was rejected until I played my trump card."

Mullrick paused and looked at Herston. The exdetective stared in a puzzled manner.

"Yes," announced Mullrick. "In return for the concession I promised to tell them the exact location of the lost

"The location of the mines?" questioned Mullrick, with a smile. "That, Jerry, is a matter of speculation. I do

not know exactly where those mines are located, although I have information which might aid me in finding

them. I gained a six months' option from the Mexican government. If, within that time, I can place my finger

on that map and touch the exact spot, I shall be worth millions of dollars as my share of the concession!"

"Why are you here, then?" asked Herston "It seems to me you should be in Mexico in Durango "

"Looking for the mines?" interrupted Mullrick. "Not a bit of it! That would merely be an exposure of my

"OLD Porfirio Diaz," explained Mullrick, "placed a great deal of confidence in Americans. He never feared

that they would sell him out to other Mexicans, because he was allpowerful. He knew they could never cut

in on his possessions, because they were foreigners. Hence any men who might have known the secret of

"But why," demanded Herston, "wouldn't such Americans go to Mexico and treat with the new regime?"

"Because," returned Mullrick, with a knowing smile, "Mexico was extremely unhealthy for those who had

once been friends of Diaz. Until the present government took hold, there was no opportunity; and when the

opportunity came, the present government announced that it would not deal with foreigners in the granting of

concessions. Hence those who knew have lain low. It remained for me to show the necessary enterprise. I

"If I can find one man who will tell me what I want to know, I shall offer him inducements in return for

"Through the man with whom I just conversed by telephone. Luis Santo is his name. He is an investigator

whom I sent from Mexico City. He has learned the identities of certain individuals who can give me

information. Santo is going back to Mexico. The rest remains for me to accomplish."

There was a pause. Harland Mullrick folded his map of Mexico. He lighted a cigarette, and his lips formed a

hard, stern smile. Jerry Herston showed a knowing grin. The exdetective believed he knew how he could be

"Come!" Mullrick arose suddenly and led Herston to a doorway at the side of the living room. "Here is where

you are to stay. I want you to listen to my interview with Santo. Give me your opinion later on."

The living room was momentarily empty. It was then that the figure of The Shadow appeared. Swiftly, the

blackclad listener came in from the entry. He glided to a spot beyond the telephone table. His figure

Hardly had The Shadow stationed himself at his new post before Harland Mullrick came back into the living

room. He had placed Jerry Herston in a vantage point; now he was accompanied by Pascual.

"When Senor Santo arrives," said Mullrick, speaking in Spanish, "bring him in here. You understand,

"You may come in and out," continued Mullrick. "Santo will expect that. He knows that you are my servant

Mullrick's sentence ended. Someone was rapping at the door. With a gesture to Pascual, Mullrick dropped

into a chair and lighted a cigarette. Pascual started toward the door as the knocking was repeated.

Harland Mullrick smiled. He would converse with Luis Santo. The Mexican investigator would not know that

someone was listening in to the talk. Mullrick was thinking of Jerry Herston's presence.

Not for an instant did it occur to him that another unseen listener might be here! Whatever Jerry Herston

WHEN Pascual opened the door, a slender, dapper man entered. He was swarthy in complexion; his pointed

mustache, black as his hair, gave him a foreign look. This was Luis Santo, the Mexican investigator.

Santo bowed and extended his hand as he approached Harland Mullrick. The American returned the clasp and

Santo threw a nervous glance toward Pascual. He looked at Mullrick inquiringly, doubting the advisability of

"Speak English," suggested Mullrick. "Pascual does not understand the language sufficiently to follow it."

"Very good," purred Santo, in perfect English. "Your language will serve our purpose, Senor Mullrick. I have

Mullrick remained passive. It was obvious that Santo did not suspect the real reason why Mullrick had

decided that English should be used. Jerry Herston, listening from the other room, would not have understood

"I have made good my promise, senor," announced Santo proudly, his face gleaming with a smile. "In

Mexico City I told you that I, with my knowledge of government affairs, could locate those who were in

Durango during the regime of Porfirio Diaz. I have found them, senor. They are four."

"Their names," continued Santo, "are here. This list tells all of them. Each you will see, senor, is from a

Mullrick held up his hand. He took the sheet of paper and studied the names, which bore notations under

"I have given you the names," remarked Santo. "I have given you the addresses where they can be reached.

"I am reading it, Santo," reminded Mullrick. The Mexican remained silent, watching Mullrick's rigid face. As

he looked at the list, Mullrick held it close in front of him and studied it word by word. The list read:

DELIBERATELY, Harland Mullrick folded the list. He looked at Luis Santo. The Mexican smiled. He could

"Without mentioning these names," remarked Mullrick, "may I ask why you have placed them in the order

given. Why did you not start with the final name which is obviously the most important?"

"Because, senor," returned Santo, "I have put them as you should see them. If you have a proposal to make to

"Agreed," interrupted Mullrick. "I see your point, Santo, and it is a good one. You are sure that all these men

"Absolutely," responded the Mexican. "All of them spent some time in the Sierra Madre Mountains. I am

"Because those of the Diaz regime would have kept Americanos apart. He was a great man, Porfirio Diaz;

"No, senor. I was clever not to do that. I learned about them secretly. Remember, senor, I come from Mexico,

"Yes," agreed Mullrick, "and you have rendered the service I required. Your work is ended, Santo. When do

"Tomorrow, senor," answered Santo. "I go as passenger on the steamship El Salvador, sister ship of the

"Excellent," remarked Mullrick, in a matteroffact tone. "I wish you a most pleasant trip."

As he finished speaking, Mullrick calmly tore the folded list. Luis Santo, exclaiming in sharp surprise, half

arose from his chair in protest. Mullrick, smiling, continued the tearing process.

"The names," he said, "are firmly planted in my mind. The addresses, also, and the data which you so capably

Rising, Mullrick walked to a window, unlocked it, and raised the sash. He tossed the fragment of paper into

the breeze. The pieces scattered in all directions. Mullrick laughed as he closed the window.

"Memoranda," he remarked, "prove useful after negotiations have been completed. Should the first man be

the one whom I require, I shall forget the others. If he proves unsatisfactory, I shall jot down his name, that I

Extending his hand to Luis Santo, Mullrick wished the Mexican bon voyage, and accompanied him to the

door of the apartment. Pascual was there to open the door. The dapper Mexican investigator departed.

RETURNING to the living room, Mullrick called softly to Jerry Herston. The exdetective came from the

"Yes," agreed Mullrick, "and a necessary one. He was the one person in Mexico City who could do the work

"I have thought of that. Nevertheless, it will not matter after he reaches Mexico City. I shall have the

Mullrick pulled a folded newspaper from his pocket. He spread it out, and showed Herston an item printed in

"A copy of the Mexican City newspaper, La Libertad," he said. "My name is there. It mentions that I have

been granted exploration duties by the government in reference to mining developments. Read here: seis

meses; that means six months. It is the way they state that I have received what amounts to a concession."

"I shall go promptly to Durango. Jerry, I have traced the route of those Villa followers. I know facts that the

Mexican government does not know. Given six months, I can find those lost mines on my own."

"Because of this newspaper item," declared Mullrick. "It has started things. It will be followed by others.

Suppose I return to Mexico and start looking for the mines. Within a few weeks, one of these chaps is likely

to get wind of it. Anyone who has ever been to Mexico keeps tabs on Mexican affairs."

"While I am looking for the mines? It would be a cinch for him to throw obstacles in my path. Bandits could

"The wise American would deliberately appear in Mexico City and gain the option which I failed to exert. I

have set a precedent, Jerry, something which is new to the present regime. That is why I want to deal with

"Jerry, as soon as I can get exact information from one of the four, the other three will be helpless. I shall

have positive assurance of where the mines lie. I can inform the Mexican government. My concession will be

"Unless," repeated the exdetective, "you picked off these four wise guys. If they were out of the picture,

"Jerry," said Mullrick, in an easy tone, "you talk as though you were in Mexico, where it is not overly

"Mexico!" snorted Herston. "Say it's got nothing on New York. You tell me the name of any guy you want

"We can discuss such subjects later, Jerry," interposed Mullrick, with a smile. "Some time we can compare

the merits of various ways of murder: bold attack in contrast to finesse. For the present, however, I have

"You saw my visitor, Luis Santo. I placed him purposely so that you could observe his face. He is stopping at

the Tribune Hotel. Tomorrow night he boards the steamship El Salvador. He will occupy Stateroom 45, on

"I have no further use for Santo. He can do me no service from now on. It is possible, however, that he might

do me harm. Indirectly, of course. For instance, someone might approach him and offer him inducements to

Mullrick's tone had become serious. He was staring significantly as he spoke. His words had taken on the

"Stateroom 45, Deck B," said Mullrick thoughtfully. "Suppose, Jerry, that you visit the steamship El Salvador

just fifteen minutes before the boat sails. Make sure that Luis Santo is in his stateroom. If he is not there, look

"Make sure that he is still aboard the boat when it pulls out from the pier. I am leaving it to your judgment,

"That suits me. You'll know tomorrow whether or not Santo went out on the El Salvador."

The conference was ended. Jerry Herston, who had now replaced Luis Santo as Harland Mullrick's agent, left

Returning to the living room, Mullrick stooped and picked up the copy of La Libertad which had fallen to the

floor. He tossed the journal upon the table, and strolled into the adjoining room, a meditative smile upon his

Pascual passed through the living room. When the servant was out of sight, the blackness in the corner

stirred. The Shadow's tall form materialized from darkness. It glided to the center of the room.

The Shadow's gaze noted the copy of La Libertad. The tall figure turned and swept from the apartment.

Pascual, reentering the living room a few moments later, observed no sign of the departed visitor.

SOME time afterward, a click resounded in the corner of a blackwalled room. A blue light glimmered upon

the polished surface of a table. Long, white hands appeared beneath the glow. Upon the third finger of the left

sparkled an amazing gem which sent shafts of fire glittering upward from depths of everchanging hue.

That fire opal a jewel known as the girasol was the token of The Shadow. The bluish light, with its

mysterious flickering, denoted this room as The Shadow's sanctum, the hidden abode in which the master

A clipping fell from an envelope. The hands raised it while unseen eyes studied its Spanish wording. That

clipping was a duplicate of the item in La Libertad which Harland Mullrick had shown to Jerry Herston.

This explained how The Shadow had gained his inkling into the affairs of Harland Mullrick. Provided with

clippings by his agents, The Shadow kept contact with affairs in foreign lands, as well as the United States.

Any mention of facts that might lead to crosspurposes involving crime were of interest to The Shadow.

Upon a white sheet of paper, The Shadow inscribed a coded message in ink of vivid blue. He folded this note

The light clicked out. Sullen darkness resulted. A soft laugh whispered through the gloom. Its tones arose,

then faded. Dying echoes ended. Silence prevailed. The Shadow had departed from his sanctum. His hand

DUSK was falling on Manhattan. The windows of skyscrapers were aglow with light. Viewed from an office

high in the Badger Building, the city presented a fantastic spectacle. A chubbyfaced man, seated at a desk,

was apparently awaiting the arrival of a visitor. He was watching the sky line as he rested.

A knock at the door. The chubby man turned from the window. In reply to his call to enter, a stenographer

A stalwart young man entered. He closed the door behind him. He took a seat at the side of the desk. His

To all appearances, this might have been an ordinary business meeting between Rutledge Mann, investment

broker, and Harry Vincent, gentleman of leisure. Mann had his offices in the Badger Building; Vincent, who

The purpose of these meetings, however, dealt with other matters than investments. Rutledge Mann was

contact agent for The Shadow; Harry Vincent was one of The Shadow's active agents.

From a desk drawer, Rutledge Mann produced a photograph. He passed it to Harry Vincent. It showed the

portrait of a hardfaced, puffycheeked man who would not be difficult to recognize. The subject of the

"Jerry Herston," explained Mann. "Once a private detective. Now a man who knows considerable about

"No," returned Mann. "On the contrary, Herston has very good standing with the police. This photograph did

not come from the rogues' gallery. It is from the files of the New York Classic. It was put there a year ago

Harry Vincent understood. Clyde Burke, another agent of The Shadow, was a reporter with the New York

Oddly enough, while Harry Vincent, Clyde Burke, and Rutledge Mann knew one another well, all three

"I received a communication this morning," resumed Mann. "As a result, I obtained this picture for your

consideration. Jerry Herston will appear at the Central American Shipping Pier this evening, prior to the

As he spoke, Mann picked up a blank sheet of paper from his desk. He carelessly tore it into fragments and

Harry Vincent smiled. He, too, had received communications from The Shadow. That blank piece of paper

was the message which Mann had received. The Shadow's notes, written in a special ink, had a habit of

disappearance as soon as their simply coded words had been perused by the agents who received them.

"Jerry Herston," continued Mann, repeating information which he had evidently memorized, "is watching a

man named Luis Santo, Stateroom 45, Deck B, on the El Salvador. Simply keep notes of any unusual actions

Harry nodded. He picked up the photograph of Jerry Herston and studied it intently. When he had satisfied

himself that he could remember the exdetective's physiognomy, he handed the picture back to Rutledge

"The El Salvador sails at midnight," remarked the investment broker. "Jerry Herston will arrive at the pier at

The statement ended the interview. Harry Vincent left the office. Rutledge Mann followed shortly afterward.

IT was shortly after eleven o'clock when Harry Vincent hailed a taxicab near Times Square, and ordered the

driver to take him to the Central American Shipping Pier. The cab reached its destination twentyfive

minutes later. It was a clear night, and the pier presented a complete contrast to the foggy scene of the

The steamship El Salvador glittered with lights. The pier was thronged with passengers sailing on the ship.

The season was one for departure rather than arrival from Central and South American ports.

Harry Vincent stationed himself at a good spot from which to observe those who entered. Eight minutes

passed. Out of the crowd stepped a man whom Harry quickly recognized as Jerry Herston. As soon as his

Jerry Herston showed no haste in boarding the El Salvador. He strolled about in inconspicuous fashion,

carelessly watching the faces of those who stood near the gangplank. There was nothing in his manner that

Turning casually, Herston calmly observed persons who were close by. Constantly using the precautions of

the professional sleuth, this exdetective wanted to make sure that he, in turn, was not being watched. He was

Swinging back toward the gangplank, Herston stopped abruptly as he caught a glimpse of a man walking

Herston smiled. He knew that Mullrick did not wish to be seen by Luis Santo; at the same time, he knew that

Herston stared suspiciously after Mullrick had moved away. His chief had disappeared behind a stack of

crates that were being loaded on the El Salvador, but Herston fancied that he saw someone else close by.

He caught a momentary glimpse of what appeared to be a pair of sparkling eyes. Then the illusion was

It was quarter of twelve. A fifteenminute signal was coming from the ship. Herston wondered if Santo was

aboard. There was one way to find out. Joining a cluster of passengers, Herston moved along the gangplank.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw no one following. He boarded the El Salvador.

One minute later, three people walked up the gangplank. One of this group was Harry Vincent. The trio,

clustered, formed a gloomy splotch of black beneath the dim, indirect light. Stretching in back of them was a

That following shade was the token of The Shadow himself. Close behind the little group, so close that his

gloved hand almost touched his agent's arm, The Shadow, too, was boarding the ship. He had seen Harland

Mullrick depart from the pier; he was able, now, to survey the observations which Harry Vincent was about

HARRY circuited the ship, ascended a flight of steps, and found himself on Deck B. He noted the number of

a room. Calculating, he took his station under cover of a companionway, and spotted the door of Stateroom

45. He did not notice the blackgarbed form that stood a dozen feet behind him, a spectral shape of darkness

This was the side of the ship away from the pier. Two passengers approached, and went by Harry Vincent

without seeing him. Glancing back to the door of 45, Harry saw a man stop at that point. He recognized Jerry

He saw the man place his hand upon the knob. The door yielded; Herston, hand in pocket, suddenly opened it

Harry wondered at the action. He supposed that Herston must have rapped, ready with an apology had Santo

opened the door. Why had the exdetective entered? Obviously because no response had come. Did he intend

Desiring a closer view, Harry Vincent moved from his place of shelter and sidled along the deck until he

neared the stateroom. He saw the door begin to open; quickly, he ducked into the shelter of another doorway.

He caught a glimpse of Jerry Herston stepping forth. He saw the man glance quickly in both directions. Then

There was no chance to move until Herston was out of sight. As soon as he was sure the man was gone,

Harry stepped to the door of the stateroom. He saw a light in the frosted window. He rapped twice; when he

Within the doorway, Harry stopped. His blood froze. In the horror of that moment, he rested his hand upon

the knob of the halfopened door, but lacked the power to push the barrier shut. Experienced though he was

On the floor of the cabin lay the body of a man. Harry saw a purpled face, a countenance once swarthy,

which now was bloodswollen. From an opened mouth, beneath a pointed black mustache, extended a long

The man's collar had been ripped away. His arms were twisted askew beneath his body. The side of his head

It was obvious how death had come. Some powerful adversary had leaped upon the victim unaware, had

hurled the man bodily to the floor and had beaten out his life against the edge of the berth.

Bruising, crushing force, together with brutal strangulation had brought prompt murder. Harry knew that this

man must be Luis Santo. He pictured Jerry Herston, powerful and swift, leaping upon Santo in mortal

Death, despite its brutality, could have been almost soundless behind the closed door. The strains of a band

were coming from somewhere on another deck. Harry recalled that the sound had been plain while Herston

He wondered not at the swiftness and effectiveness of the murder, but at its daring. Santo could not have been

Of a sudden, Harry's senses returned. He realized that he was standing with a door opened beside him, staring

at murder which someone else had committed. At the same instant, Harry had an instinctive feeling that eyes

He backed to the deck, looked quickly in both directions and decided that the impression had merely been a

In moving backward, Harry had automatically closed the door. His thoughts reverting to Jerry Herston, he

turned and walked along the deck in the direction which the exdetective had taken. Despite the tense

Hence he did not see the tall form that suddenly materialized from a deck post beside the rail. He did not see

the figure that swept swiftly to the door of Stateroom 45, and entered there. Harry Vincent was too intent

WITHIN the cabin where Luis Santo's body lay, The Shadow stood like a huge creature of retribution. He

had arrived too late to save the Mexican's life. Only a few minutes remained before the ship was due to sail,

Turning, he noted that Luis Santo's coat and hat lay on a chair. Beyond, The Shadow saw the door of a huge,

closetlike wardrobe. Swiftly, The Shadow studied the position in which the man's body day in reference to

The Shadow went to the wardrobe. Its door was closed, but the knob did not resist when The Shadow's

gloved hand drew it. The fastenings of the wardrobe door had been flattened. Instantly, The Shadow

Luis Santo had entered this cabin. He had held his hat and coat upon his arm. He had gone to the wardrobe.

As he had reached for the knob the door had swung open. A fierce attacker had caught the Mexican totally off

Where his agent, staring at death, had placed the burden of murder upon Jerry Herston, The Shadow had

drawn different conclusions. He knew that the killer had been in that wardrobe; that, after finishing Santo, he

The Shadow placed his hand upon the door of the cabin. The portal opened far enough for his peering eyes to

sight the deck. As the tall figure emerged from the stateroom, the strains of a bugle were sounding the final

Harry Vincent, on the pier side of the ship, was standing by the gangplank, carefully eyeing all the persons

who were leaving. Realizing at last that Jerry Herston must have gone ashore, he joined the final group of

Once again, a fleeting, shadowy form moved in the wake of those upon the gangplank. As the departers

The steamship was moving from its berth. Tugs were drawing it into the river. Its lights aglow, the El

Salvador turned its nose downstream. It formed a vivid picture, that black hulk with its illuminated cabins.

Those who had come to wish their friends bon voyage were gone. Only one remained to watch the liner

That one was The Shadow. A silent, motionless sentinel at the end of the deserted pier, he saw the long island

of floating light as it headed toward the lower bay. A soft laugh came from The Shadow's mysterious lips. It

was a sinister laugh, more grim than mirthful. It betokened nothing of The Shadow's secret thoughts.

Tonight, The Shadow had come upon the result of crime. He had reached the pier in time to witness Harland

Mullrick's departure. He had watched his agent, Harry Vincent, follow Jerry Herston to the scene of death.

Was this the beginning of new thrusts designed to further the schemes of a man who considered wealth more

valuable than justice? Only The Shadow knew. He could find the answer; when death again was due, The

The laugh died, sighing, unheard upon the lapping waters. It was a parting knell for ears that could not hear.

Luis Santo had sailed. Fate had provided for him another destination than his native Mexico.

The Shadow knew how Luis Santo had died. The Shadow's course was pointed toward the brain and hand

THE next evening found Harland Mullrick comfortably seated in the living room of the apartment which

Jerry Herston had obtained for his occupancy. The tall, stoopshouldered man was reading the final edition

He tossed it aside as the door of the apartment opened. Pascual entered. The servant hung his coat and hat in

"I have mailed your letter, senor," he announced, in Spanish, as he entered the living room.

Mullrick, lighting a cigarette, nodded his approval. Pascual went into another room. Mullrick remained

unmoving until he heard a knock at the outer door. Noting that Pascual was not at hand, he went to the door

and opened it. Jerry Herston entered. Like Pascual, he placed his hat and coat in the closet.

As the two men walked into the living room, the outer door opened slowly. Peering eyes spied the backs of

the moving men. A tall form glided into the entry. The Shadow gained his spot of observation.

"Well," remarked Mullrick, "I'm glad to know that you made sure of Santo's departure. Your telephone call

last night was satisfactory. Even the tone of your voice proved that there could be no mistake."

"I'm positive," returned Herston. He stooped to pick up the evening newspaper. After a glance through the

Mullrick did not betray a flicker of his eyelids. He stared calmly at his visitor, and put another question.

"Was there anything odd?" he quizzed. "If so, why didn't you mention it last night?"

"I couldn't over the telephone. I also decided to wait to see what happened later or what might have

appeared in today's newspapers. The El Salvador is not far from land, you know."

"Hmmm," murmured Mullrick. "This sounds like a riddle. Give me the answer, Jerry."

"You went in there?" challenged Mullrick. "That was a mistake, Jerry! I told you to merely make sure that

"That's why I entered the stateroom," returned Herston. "I made sure that Luis Santo had sailed for Mexico."

"I found him. I was bothered at first; the idea of a dead body left in a stateroom was not what you called

finesse. It was rather crude, I thought. However, the job had been well done. I decided that the disposal of the

"You mean" Mullrick displayed a sign of momentary nervousness "that Santo had been murdered?"

"You told me to make sure that Santo sailed. He did. You wanted me to be sure that he didn't leave the ship.

MULLRICK was lighting another cigarette. He was losing his nervousness. A suave, though bitter, smile

"You misunderstood me, Jerry," he remarked. "I didn't expect you to go to such extreme measures. I admit

that Santo's death is advantageous. It clears considerable worry from my mind. Nevertheless, I do not deal in

"Admitted," agreed Mullrick. "I'm not suggesting that you did the work, Jerry. Nevertheless, our conversation

last night may have proven a trifle misleading. You know men who hand out death. You suggested that they

were available. It was only natural that you should turn to one of them when I said that Santo could prove

Jerry Herston grinned broadly. He had not mentioned that he had seen Harland Mullrick on the pier. He did

not intend to do so. He saw the turn of conversation. His accidental discovery of the dead body had been a

Mullrick, always subtle, had chosen a way out. The suggestion to lay the blame on unknown mobsters was a

clever one. Mullrick had spoken the truth when he had brought up the reminder that Herston knew such men

"Yes," he said carelessly. "I have pals who would do most anything to please a friend even to committing

murder. I could name a few; but that's not necessary. I keep my pals because I know how to keep mum.

"Of course, I like to look in on a good job and see that it's been done right. I leave it to my pals to finish what

they start. Just the same, I was worried some to see the body still laying there. Then I figured what was going

"Overboard," replied Herston tersely. "Every ship's crew has its bunch that's connected with the underworld.

Particularly those South American boats. They've generally got a few tough gorillas who are hiding out.

Those mugs would do anything for a century spot. One hundred bucks is a lot of money when you're

"I see." Mullrick's tone expressed an understanding of Herston's idea. "A couple of deck hands could have

done the trick. Santo's stateroom opened right on the deck. Lumps of coal over the rail "

"That's it," interposed Herston, in an assuring tone. "I was a little bit afraid, though, that there might have

been a slip. It would be easy enough to fix a couple of men on the crew. But it's kind of risky counting on

them. That's why I was interested in the newspapers. A wireless message from the El Salvador might have

"All's ended well," decided Mullrick smoothly. "Tell me, Jerry just how was Santo killed?"

"Somebody grabbed him in the cabin," declared Herston. "Took him by the throat and laid him on the floor.

"With a little guy like Santo? You could have done it" Herston caught himself "say, I could have done it.

The exdetective arose and made a gesture of pouncing on a victim. He smiled as he stood facing Mullrick,

"But take it from me," asserted Herston, "the bird that did pull the murder was probably a big gazebo, built

like a young truck. It would be a cinch for such a guy. Easier than for someone like like me even though

Mullrick's hands tightened. They showed power as they did. It was obvious that he was visualizing Luis

"Thought I'd better tell you I was in there," concluded Herston. "I'm working with you, Mullrick. You know

me. It's over; I'd rather you'd forget it. The less I think about it, the better."

Mullrick nodded thoughtfully. Herston watched him carefully. The exdetective was glad that he had turned

the trend. He had no desire to lose Mullrick's favor. He did not care to become, like Luis Santo, a man who

Herston's eyes gleamed as they observed Mullrick reaching in his pocket. The tall man brought out a wad of

"Here's two thousand, Jerry," he remarked, handing the cash to his subordinate. "It's too bad that Santo was

killed; since it can't be changed, your information is worth money to me. It is nice of your friends to offer

their services. However, when I require them, it would be wise to speak to me in advance. I can pay cash in

"Thanks, Mullrick," responded Herston, as he pocketed the money. "I'll just forget all that I saw down at the

Mullrick was rising, to indicate that it was time for Herston to depart. He threw a shrewd glance as he heard

Herston's reference to the pier. If Herston had seen nothing but Luis Santo's body, why had he mentioned the

Herston did not realize the blunder he had committed. He was thinking of the cash payment that he had

received. He was the first to move toward the entry; he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not see

OUT in the corridor, Jerry Herston paused to again count the money. He regarded it as a tribute to his

intelligence; his willingness to assume the blame of ordering murder. He did not realize that he had

In fact, Jerry Herston, with all his selfconfidence, could not match Harland Mullrick for keenness.

Egotistically, this exdetective, who knew the ways of gangsters and racketeers, thought himself a much

As he walked along the corridor toward the elevator, he complimented himself on a new discovery one that

he should have weighed when he first considered Mullrick was the murderer of Luis Santo.

Jerry Herston had just now decided that Harland Mullrick probably had numerous connections, of whom he,

Jerry Herston, was but one. There was Luis Santo whom Jerry had seen. There were men on the El

Salvador whom Mullrick, knowing the boats of the Central American line, could easily have gained as

Perhaps the thought made Jerry smile wisely there were others here in New York. Mullrick, Herston was

Had Jerry Herston seen Harland Mullrick alone in the apartment, he would have lost some of his surety. The

man who had come from Mexico was pacing up and down the living room, engaged in serious thought.

Harland Mullrick was making plans; those purposes had much to do with his future dealings with Jerry

There were eyes, however, that did see Mullrick. A figure had lingered in the hallway, unnoticed by Jerry

Herston, who had been busy with his money counting. That figure had returned to Mullrick's entry. The eyes

of The Shadow were watching every motion of the man who had come from Mexico, studying every

Pascual entered the living room. Mullrick spoke to the servant, in a medley of Spanish and English.

Harland Mullrick strode into an adjoining room. Pascual, in his stolid fashion, extinguished the lights in the

living room. While his back was turned, the figure of The Shadow stood plainly in the entry. It turned and

Pascual, turning to the entry where the last light remained, caught a motion of the doorknob. The servant

hurried in that direction. He opened the door and peered into the corridor. He saw no one. He closed the door

Outside of the apartment house, a figure appeared momentarily beneath a glare of light, then faded into a

shroud of darkness. A soft laugh rippled from invisible lips. The Shadow had every word of conversation

Keenly, The Shadow had summed the situation not alone as it referred to the past, but as it regarded the

future. He had also gained a definite inkling which Jerry Herston had failed to glean. That was the reference

to the letter which Pascual had mailed. The Shadow knew the meaning of that letter.

Harland Mullrick had taken the first step in his plan to treat with those who could provide him with the

information that he needed. Four men, each of whom could aid or balk the shrewd concessiongainer's effort

for wealth, were known to Harland Mullrick, thanks to Luis Santo, who had died last night.

Santo was dead because he knew too much. These men with whom Mullrick intended to treat as individuals

also knew facts that concerned Harland Mullrick. What would be the result when the first of the four

The Shadow knew the answer. His grim laugh proved it. Death lay in the offing. Murder, as certain as that

When death threatened, The Shadow was needed. He was the master whose purpose was to prevent death,

except when it struck those who deserved it. Yet in this strange chain of past and impending crime, The

The task which confronted The Shadow was one which would tax his powers to the utmost.

Murder was on the way, and chance would play a part which might render efforts futile, even though such

IT was late the next afternoon when Harland Mullrick entered his apartment after a trip downtown. Mullrick

immediately encountered Pascual. The Mexican servant was standing just beyond the entry, staring toward

"Things are not right, master," returned Pascual, in his native tongue. "I am worried since last night."

"Forget it, Pascual," ordered Mullrick. "So long as you are alert, all will be well."

The Mexican shook his head. He pointed toward the door; his accusing finger indicated the knob.

"There was someone there last night, master," he informed. "Someone beyond that door"

"Of course," laughed Mullrick. "Senor Herston went out. He was in the corridor. He may have decided to

return; then changed his mind. You told me all this before I went out this morning."

"The window also, senor," insisted the servant, pointing to the other end of the room. "I heard a noise there,

"But you saw no one," interposed Mullrick. "You mentioned those facts also. Come, Pascual. Until you have

With this remark, Mullrick strode to the window. He unlocked it and raised the sash. As Pascual peered forth

Save for a narrow, projecting cornice just below the window, and a similar projection above, there was no

possible place for a foothold. The width of each ornamental projection was scarcely more than three inches.

Mullrick closed the window. He seemed satisfied. Pascual began to imbibe his master's confidence.

The window had a thick sill. Just within was a radiator, with a flat metal top that came on a level with the sill,

forming a useful ledge. Mullrick rested one elbow atop the radiator, and stared thoughtfully from the window.

MULLRICK smiled as he observed the visitors who entered. Two men were carrying a radio cabinet. One

As they reached a corner near the window, they set down their burden. The smaller man dropped to the floor

"This is prompt service," commented Mullrick. "You told me you would have the set delivered by half past

five. Where is the young man who called this morning and offered to place this radio on approval?"

The big, stupid man shook his head. He pointed to the other who had entered with him.

"Ask him," said the big man. "I ain't got nothin' to do with it. He just asked me to help him lug the radio

Mullrick turned to the man who was attaching the set. The visitor's back was turned, but the man had heard

the question. He replied, in a quiet voice, without turning his head from his work.

"It was the salesman who called this morning," he said. "I am the installation man. Sign this approval

Without turning away from his work, the installer whisked a card from his pocket and held it up over his

shoulder. Mullrick signed the card and placed it in the ready hand that came up for it. He walked away from

The radio installer, with his back constantly toward the interior of the room, placed some tools upon the

As he listened to its tones, he moved his head slightly to note whether or not Mullrick was still watching him.

Observing that Mullrick was not, the man placed a little tool kit upon the radiator top. From the kit projected

The radio man let his hand slide along the space between window sill and radiator. His fingers encountered a

The presence of that wire explained why Pascual had heard a sound last night. Someone, working from

outside, had drilled a tiny hole straight through the window ledge, underneath. Through that hole the wire had

With a deft movement, the radio installer hooked his own wire to the one that came from beneath the sill. He

opened the tool kit and took out a small instrument which was attached to the wire. He let this object slip

The instrument thus introduced was the microphone of a dictograph. While apparently doing no more than

make a choice of tools, the radio installer had completed his secret work. He swung back to the radio, gave it

"All installed," he remarked, as he passed Mullrick. "Your guarantee card is on the cabinet."

Mullrick looked up from his newspaper, in time, only, to catch another glimpse of the fellow's back. He saw

the installer walk out through the door. Then the soft tones of the radio attracted his attention. He went to the

The big man who had helped carry the radio set had gone out while the installer was at work. Harland

Mullrick thought no more of the matter. The fact that he had not caught a single glimpse of the radio

THE man who had left the apartment, however, performed certain actions which would have interested

Harland Mullrick. Carrying his tool kit, he went to the elevator, but he took the car up instead of down. On

the corridor above, he chose the door marked 5H; the apartment directly above Mullrick's. Here he went to an

inner room. He sat at a table and worked with an apparatus that lay before him. The tones of the radio in

The wire that went under the window ledge connected here! Cleverly attached to the brick surface of the

Only one person could have so neatly completed such an arrangement The Shadow! It was he that Pascual

had heard leaving the window. Silent though The Shadow was, the act of drilling had been slightly apparent

Who was the man who had made the final attachment? The answer came when the false radio installer turned

off the dictograph connection and picked up a set of ear phones. As a light glimmered on a panel, he

"Delivered set which Vincent placed on approval," announced Burbank. "Dictograph connection completed."

"Instructions received," responded Burbank, in quiet answer to The Shadow's amazing whisper.

Burbank, contact agent for The Shadow, was on the job. With dictograph handy, with a line established to

The Shadow's sanctum, with his telephone number given to The Shadow's agents, he represented the hidden

IN the hour that followed, Burbank, listening at the dictophone, gained one piece of information which he

forwarded to The Shadow. Harland Mullrick had gone out to dinner. Before he had left, he had told Pascual

that he expected to be back at eight o'clock; that if anyone called by telephone to tell them to make another

An odd feature of Burbank's report was that Mullrick's brief conversation with Pascual, held in mingled

Spanish and English, had not been fully understood by Burbank. Nevertheless, the quiet contact agent had

Shortly after eight o'clock, Burbank forwarded two new reports. One was Harry Vincent's; the other was

Burbank's own. Harry had watched Mullrick at dinner in a restaurant near the Belisarius Arms; he had

Burbank, at the dictograph, had heard Mullrick reenter his apartment and question Pascual regarding

telephone calls. None had been received. It was obvious that Mullrick intended to wait until such a call came

Fifteen minutes later, Burbank, listening at the dictograph, heard the telephone bell ring in Mullrick's

apartment. A moment afterward, Burbank sensed that someone was standing close behind him. He knew that

The Shadow had arrived. Raising one hand, the capable contact man spoke quietly.

Something swished in the darkness. The Shadow had gone. Burbank, as he listened, felt a sudden gust of

breeze. He knew where The Shadow had gone. The master of darkness had raised a window of this upper

apartment. He was going down the wall to peer into Mullrick's place. He would see what happened there

IN his apartment, Mullrick was at the telephone in the living room. Pascual, knowing that this call was

important, was standing stolidly by the entry door. The servant suspected that someone might be listening

there. Had The Shadow come by that route tonight, he would have encountered the watchful Mexican. The

He could see Mullrick's form. He could not, however, observe the tall man's face, for Mullrick, as he

"Hello?" Mullrick's tone was anxious. "Ah, yes... This is Mr. Mullrick... You received my letter?... Good... I

would not give the details by letter... You will see me, you say... Tonight... Yes, I can come to meet you...

Mullrick wrote some words upon the surface of a telephone pad. He nodded as he did so. He was listening to

"I shall meet you there," he said. "Nine o'clock... I shall be waiting... You are coming in a cab... Yes, I can

join you when the driver signals with the horn... Then to your apartment to discuss matters..."

Mechanically, Mullrick inscribed another notation. He listened a few moments longer, then added a final

"If something should prevent me from being at the meeting place, do not wait more than four or five minutes.

You can call me here again, tomorrow, in case we should miss connections... Yes; I shall surely see you...

He held it close before his eyes, and slowly read its contents. He tore it to tiny fragments, then opened the

window by the telephone table and tossed the particles of paper into the breeze.

"Adios, papel blanco," he said. "Goodby, white paper with lost information. Pascual" Mullrick turned to the

Mexican and broke loose in Spanish "you know the story of the spider and the fly? How the fly walks into

"Sometimes," added Mullrick, "it is the fly himself who provides the parlor. Funny, eh, Pascual? Then the

Mullrick spent a few minutes in thought. Then, a wily gleam on his face, he again went to the telephone. He

"Hello, Jerry," he said. "I want to see you tonight... No, not there... Suppose I meet you... Yes, that's a good

place... About nine o'clock... Listen, Jerry; make it ten minutes before nine... If I'm not there right on the

minute, wait as long as necessary... Yes... But let your watch stop with you. Understand? Ten minutes of

Hanging up the receiver, Harland Mullrick swung to Pascual. He called for his hat and coat. Donning the

No hidden eyes were watching Harland Mullrick now. The Shadow had departed from his place of

observation at the window. Only one person remained to pick up Harland Mullrick's trail. That was Harry

As Harland Mullrick came into Harry's view, he threw rapid glances in both directions. He seemed to be

suspicious of observant eyes, even though he did not see the man who was watching him.

Sauntering along the street, Mullrick leisurely entered a drug store. He went into an alcove. Harry, entering

behind him, noted that Mullrick did not emerge. The Shadow's agent sauntered by the spot where Mullrick

The alcove had a side door which opened on a little alley. Harland Mullrick had chosen it for a quick exit.

The man whom Harry had been set to watch had cleverly eluded the agent who had taken up his trail!

IN the apartment above Mullrick's, Burbank was carefully arranging shorthand reports which he had made of

the conversations which he had heard. He placed the first notations at the left of the table.

A gloved hand came through the gloom. It plucked the notes from the table. While Burbank sat stolidly in his

chair, The Shadow read the full discourse which Harland Mullrick had held with an unknown speaker.

A soft laugh sounded in the semidarkness. The Shadow knew the motive of the telephone call. The man who

had communicated with Harland Mullrick was the first of the four who had been named on the list given

The list existed now in Mullrick's memory alone. Last night, Mullrick had dispatched a letter, which Pascual

had mailed. The recipient had responded. Had Mullrick mentioned the name, The Shadow would have gained

All that The Shadow knew was this: somewhere in New York, a man would be in a taxicab, awaiting

Mullrick's appearance. The signal of a horn would be the token by which Mullrick could recognize the

stranger whom he had planned to meet. Together, in the cab, the pair would be free to ride to the stranger's

The Shadow plucked the second report from the table. This was the account of Mullrick's conversation with

Herston. Its purpose was obvious. Mullrick, after his first call, had decided that an alibi might prove useful

after tonight; and he had arranged for that alibi to begin prior to nine o'clock.

The Shadow laughed. Even Burbank, accustomed to the occasional presence of The Shadow, felt the chill of

that sinister taunt. The Shadow was studying Harland Mullrick's game. Keenly, he could shape the intentions

of the man who had come from Mexico. But without a clew to the place of the nineo'clock meeting, or the

Burbank sensed the situation. As he answered a low buzz which indicated a telephone call, he hoped that this

would be news of value. Burbank's monotonous voice conducted a short conversation. When the call was

ended, the tones remained the same. They did not show the disappointment which Burbank felt.

"Report from Vincent," he announced, in his quiet way. "Mullrick slipped away from him. Went out through

The swish of a cloak. Again, Burbank felt a gust of wind. He knew that The Shadow had made another exit

Had the report of Vincent's failure inspired The Shadow to drastic action? Burbank did not know. He had not

A LONG black shape was pressed against the wall of the apartment house. Steadily, The Shadow was

descending. A smudgy sound gave evidence of the method which he used to move along the precipitous wall.

With rubber cups affixed to hands and feet, The Shadow was moving downward in flylike fashion.

Burning eyes peered through the window of Mullrick's apartment; not the window opposite the door, but the

window at the side, near the telephone table. Mullrick had left the sash unlocked. Slowly, The Shadow raised

Pascual was standing by the window opposite the door. He did not see the long, blackgarbed arm that came

in from the side. The Shadow's left hand was no longer gloved. It had been released from its rubber cup. The

girasol glimmered with fantastic rays as stealthy fingers noiselessly tore away the sheet of paper that now

Hand and arm disappeared. The window sash closed. But Pascual, like Burbank, noted a gust of wind.

With a spring, Pascual reached the spot and raised the sash. He stared out into the night. His gaze went

With a horrified exclamation, the stolid Mexican staggered back. Superstitiously, he cowered. For in that

instant of upward staring, he had seen a weird apparition, a creature that appeared to be a mammoth bat,

Burning eyes! Pascual had seen them. The monster had met his gaze. After his momentary spell of terror,

Pascual leaped again to the window. His eyes glittered as his hand drew forth a long machete, the knife which

Pascual well could wield. With the weapon in his grasp, the Mexican shot his head from the window and

Pascual sank back in relief. He muttered to himself as he closed the window. He trembled as he gripped the

Unafraid of human foe, Pascual had quailed at sight of what he believed must be the supernatural. Nothing

Pascual locked the window. His breath came in long hisses as he watched for the return of the weird monster.

The Shadow had returned to the apartment above. He stopped at a table in a darkened room. The rays of his

tiny flashlight cast a vivid focus upon the sheet of paper which he had taken from Mullrick's apartment.

With the fingers of his right hand, The Shadow sprinkled a powder that resembled graphite. It formed a

grayishblack coating on the slip of paper. With easy, rubbing motion, the fingers smudged the powder. A

Where Harland Mullrick's pencil had made indentations through the top sheet of the pad the sheet which

Mullrick had destroyed marks of black revealed the notations on the second sheet. In a faint inscription,

The hand of The Shadow crumpled the piece of paper. The light went out. The luminous dial of a watch

appeared in the darkness. Its hands indicated fourteen minutes before nine. Moments of silence in the

The Shadow's hand, now gloved, stretched toward the table. Its long forefinger traced a triangle in a film of

dust. The points represented three places. The long side showed the space between the Club Galaxy well

The third point of the triangle was The Shadow's present location. It lay closer to each of the other points than

they did to one another. Strategically, it offered opportunity. The Shadow, if he could not reach the Club

Galaxy before nine o'clock, could certainly arrive at the Commander Apartments and be waiting there when

The Shadow's choice lay purely in his study of the situation. Would the menace of murder arise before the

cab reached the apartments? Or would it exist only when the riders had gained their destination?

The Shadow's laugh gave the answer. The light clicked off. The Shadow moved through darkness.

NINE o'clock. The strident gong of a huge advertising clock near Times Square was blasting forth the hour,

following a medley of discordant chimes. A hardfaced man with military stride stepped up to a taxicab.

"It's only down this side street," protested the cab driver. "Half a block is all "

"I'm picking up a friend," returned the hardfaced man as he entered the cab. "Stop in front of the Galaxy.

One minute later, the cab pulled up in front of the glittering night club. People were moving in and out. The

"We are picking up a passenger," came the harsh voice from in back. "Blow the horn again, driver."

Two honks sounded. A man appeared beside the cab. Seeing the arrival, the doorman opened the door of the

taxi. The driver caught a glimpse of a tall, stoopshouldered man who wore a gray fedora. Then came the

As the cab sped uptown, the driver caught snatches of conversation. Automatically, some of them persisted in

his mind. He swung from traffic, and took the narrow side street upon which the Commander Apartments

The door opened before the driver could reach it. Out stepped the man who wore the gray fedora. With rapid

stride, he entered the apartment building. The driver turned to look for the hardfaced man who had first

At that instant, a touring car jammed to a shrieking stop beside the cab. The driver turned quickly to note

three pasty faces leaning from the car. He caught the flash of revolvers; he dropped to the floor of the cab as

With a fierce, deliberate fire, the mobsters riddled the interior of the cab. The driver, peering upward, caught

a glimpse of his first passenger, half rising, groggy, from the seat. Then the leaden missiles gained effect. The

The touring car started forward. It shot on toward the avenue beyond the apartment building. The driver,

seeing its taillight, rose mechanically and clambered to the street. The doorman from the Commander

Unsteadily, the driver yanked open the door of the cab. The stock body of the hardfaced man tumbled out. It

plunged across the step, struck head foremost upon the curb and rolled face upward on the sidewalk.

GUNS were barking at the corner of the avenue. Neither the driver nor the doorman sensed the sound. Both

were staring in dumbfounded recognition. The driver saw the face of the man who had hailed him near Times

Square the passenger who had ordered him to the Club Galaxy to pick up a friend.

The doorman saw a face he knew. His gasping words expressed his recognition in short, horrified tones.

"It's Mr. Selbrig!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Selbrig Roy Selbrig. He's he's been living here for months. That's

Other men were coming from the apartment house. They were surrounding the body on the sidewalk. They

stared, sickened, at the bleeding, bulletriddled form. The doorman's identification had been correct.

This was Roy Selbrig. He was the man who had called Harland Mullrick tonight. He had kept his

The doorman's demand ended. New shots were bursting from the corner. The crowd scattered for the shelter

of the apartment house. Roy Selbrig's dead body lay alone upon the sidewalk. Ganged at the entrance to the

place he lived, Roy Selbrig had been slain. Death had fallen. The hand of The Shadow had not been there to

THE slayers in the touring car had encountered trouble at the end of the street. The sound of their murderous

shots had been heard. A traffic officer, stationed at intersection of street and avenue, had acted with

He had ordered the driver of an approaching van to swing his huge vehicle upon the sidewalk. The driver had

obeyed. The immense van, stretching its great length from curb to curb, blockaded the end of the side street.

The first shots were the efforts of the gangsters to force the van away. The driver had fled from his post.

While his companions had opened their second fire, the gunman at the wheel of the touring car managed to

swing the automobile about. With guns blazing, the gangstermanned car was reversing its course.

The fusillade cleared the street like magic. Scurrying men were just in time to reach the door of the

Commander Apartments. The mobsters spread their fire in the lighted space beneath the broad marquee

which stretched, like a projecting roof, in front of the apartmenthouse entrance.

The touring car swept past the abandoned taxicab, while revolver bullets sprayed walls and windows. Then,

as a siren sounded from the end of the street toward which the car was headed, the driver, with a loud oath,

ground the brakes. His companions saw the reason for his stop. A police car, of the radio patrol, had entered

Killers were trapped. The storage van blocked one way of escape; the police were approaching from the

other. The gangster car had swerved with the application of the brakes; men were dropping to the street to use

Those within the apartmenthouse lobby were peering forth from window ledges. They saw the gangsters.

Two mobsmen were facing in their direction, ready to shoot should anyone be bold enough to appear. The

gangsters beside them, as well as two who had remained within the car, were watching the lights of the

None saw the figure approaching from the other direction. Coming from the end of the street where the van

formed a blockade, a swift form in black was heading toward the lighted zone beneath the sheltering

TEN paces from the realm of light, The Shadow changed his course. A shot from here would have been a

warning to the mobsters. Further advance into the light would have been suicidal. Beside the darkened

Gloved hands caught the grille work of a high firststory window. With amazing swiftness, The Shadow

sprang up the wall. He caught a cornice above the window. With a mighty swing, he gained the edge of the

marquee. His tall form flattened in the darkness above. It edged along the projecting roof to the ornamental

The searchlight of the police car showed the touring car. The lights of the gunmen's vehicle were out.

Officers of the law, though knowing that desperate men awaited them, came boldly onward. Shots came from

the police car. Uniformed men leaped from its sides and crouched as they opened fire.

Gangster revolvers blazed. Shots splattered from both sides. This opening fusillade was wild. With mobsters

trapped, the police had the advantage. The two members of the patrol car, with others who had leaped upon

their running board, had only to keep their enemies at bay until reinforcements arrived.

They had the mobsters trapped, they thought. Not for an instant did the police suspect the truth; that they, not

the gunmen, were ensnared. Only The Shadow, prone on the marquee, could see the fate that awaited the

Viewing the murder car at an angle, from above, The Shadow caught the glimmer of steel in the back seat.

Two mobsters were aiming a machine gun in the direction of the police car. They awaited only the word of

The word came. An evil voice snarled a sharp oath from beside the touring car. Crouching men arose to loose

A roar burst from the front edge of the marquee. Vivid tongues of flame flashed forth. An automatic in each

hand, The Shadow opened fire. The bullets of his huge .45s were loosed before the machine gunners had a

One body slumped in the back seat. The other gangster made a futile effort to grasp the heavy machine gun.

He screamed as a bullet clipped him in the back. With a writhe of agony, he plunged head foremost from the

THE flames from The Shadow's guns were signals to the two gunmen who watched the apartment building.

There had been six mobsmen in all. Two were still blazing with revolvers at the police; two had fallen within

the car. The pair of thugs on watch for such an attack as this were ready with their weapons.

Revolvers spoke as hasty shots were directed upward. One bullet zinged whining past The Shadow's head.

Another smacked the ornamental iron a foot to the left of The Shadow's position. As fingers sought to press

One mobsmen fell. The other staggered, but would not down. Brandishing his revolver, he still returned The

His revolver shots winged against the edge of the marquee. Two struck the very spot where The Shadow had

been. But The Shadow, while he used one automatic, was edging to a new position.

Each burst of his huge gun meant another bullet in the staggering gangster's body. Loaded with burning lead,

the toughened mobster collapsed and lay still. His companions had turned to learn the trouble. They saw the

Cries came from the policemen. Bullets whistled past the heads of the startled mobsters. Rapid shots crashed

One of the gangsters the leader barked an order to his companion. As the second man fired at the

marquee, the leader, heavy but swift, dashed toward the door of the apartment building.

The Shadow's second automatic spoke. A bullet from its muzzle stopped the shooting mobster in his tracks.

But as The Shadow swung his arm to cover the fleeing gang leader, the stalwart runner gained the shelter of

He was fleeing for safety. Police were on his trail. He would be lucky to escape. The Shadow edged back into

blackness as the searchlight of the police car came swiftly forward and uniformed men appeared.

The Shadow's head seemed to join the ornamental semicircles of iron that fringed the marquee. His keen

Two policemen had dashed into the apartment house. Two others had stopped beside the dead form of Roy

Selbrig. Not one looked toward the marquee above. The officers, stationed up the street, had not seen the

source of the terrific fusillade which had saved them. They had been busy plugging at the mobsters below.

Confusion followed. The police were restoring order. They were keeping people within doors, stopping

traffic on the street. The searchlight of the patrol car cast its brilliant gleam upon the bodies of dead

gangsters. The officers discovered the dead machine gunners and their terrible weapon.

Silent, The Shadow watched this curious medley. After many minutes had passed, he suddenly observed two

men who were stepping from a new police car. One, a swarthy, stocky individual, was Detective Joe

Cardona, ace of the New York force. The other was evidently a second man from headquarters.

CARDONA walked up to the group beside the curb. As he stood near Roy Selbrig's body, the ace detective

was plainly visible to The Shadow. Policemen, reporting to the detective, told the story of the gun fight.

The taxi driver stepped forward. Cardona examined the card within the cab. He recognized the fellow's

"I picked this fellow up at Times Square," explained the cabby. "He wanted me to drive him to the Club

Galaxy it was only half a block away. He says to me there would be another passenger there."

"The other guy gets into the car in front of the Club Galaxy," resumed the driver. "He and this bird was talkin'

about Mexico. I heard 'em give a lot of crazy names. Just snatches was all I heard. Yeah they said somethin'

"Then we hits here. The new guy gets out an' leaves this fellow in the cab. Bingo! Up comes the mob an'

"Didn't get a good slant at his face," admitted the driver. "Kind of tanned, he was, as I remember him, but I

"A fedora hat, I should say, sir," interrupted the doorman from the Commander Apartments. "Gray was the

"A fedora, hey," returned Cardona. "That's just a fancy name for a soft hat, so far as we're concerned. Did you

"He passed by me, sir," declared the doorman. "I happened to glance after him, and I noted the hat quite

"Not necessarily, sir. There is another entrance on the next street, but it is seldom used. There is no doorman

"In and out," grumbled Cardona. "The old trick. Gone while the shooting is taking place. What about the

"I was in the doorway, sir," testified the doorman. "I heard the shots; I saw the phaeton drive along the street.

I rushed out to the cab, sir. I recognized Roy Selbrig when he tumbled to the sidewalk."

"The phaeton?" quizzed Cardona. "You mean the touring car with the gunmen in it?"

"Maybe the doorman at the Club Galaxy spotted the second guy I took in," volunteered the cab driver. "I

don't think so, though, because he was talkin' to me, orderin' me to move along and "

"We'll go down there later," snapped Cardona. He turned to the policemen. "What about this man who got

"Crowded right through the lobby," asserted the officer. "They all scattered when they saw him coming. He

THE detective who had come with Cardona was now approaching. He had been looking at the bodies of the

"One of those birds," he informed Cardona, "is Terry Grasch. I'd know his mug any place. I thought he had

The other detective nodded. Cardona became interested. Jim Clausey was a comparatively new man on the

force. Assigned to the underworld because he was unknown to mobsters, Clausey had gained considerable

"What's more," added Clausey, "I've got a good idea who the bird was that made the getaway the one you

This name was by no means unfamiliar to Joe Cardona. "Slugs" Raffney was a strongarm man, onetime

speakeasy bouncer, who had gone in for a short career as a gang leader. He had made a quick exit a few

months before, along with a few of his most capable henchmen. Slugs and his crew were supposed to be out

of New York, or else in close hiding. The reappearance of this formidable criminal was an unfortunate event.

"Slugs Raffney, eh?" mused Cardona. "Well, if this was his outfit, it's a sure bet he'll stay under cover from

now on. You boys" he was speaking in a complimentary tone to the policemen "made a perfect wipeout

More questions followed. Cardona looked over the scene of carnage. When he saw the machine gun and its

dead operators, a puzzled look appeared upon Cardona's face. He doubted that the police had done this work.

Joe Cardona had an inkling. Shots from that spot could well have slaughtered these dead machine gunners.

Joe was thinking of The Shadow. Although his reports never mentioned the name of The Shadow, Joe

Cardona knew that such a being existed. He had seen former evidences of the mighty fighter's prowess. He

took this as another event in which The Shadow had brought muchneeded rescue to those who fought for

Joe Cardona walked back to the curb. He spoke to Jim Clausey. He said nothing regarding his suspicion of

The Shadow's presence. He referred only to those whom he believed had had a part in crime itself.

"You get on the trail of Slugs Raffney," he suggested. "Pick it up if you can. My job is to locate the other

guy the one with the gray fedora. Believe me, he could tell us plenty about this!"

The detectives went their way. Roy Selbrig's body was removed, to be taken to the morgue, along with the

dead gangsters. Policemen moved along. The placid street regained its former quiet.

A soft laugh whispered from unseen lips. The Shadow rose crouching, to leave his hiding place. There was

sinister irony in his mirth. The Shadow had heard all that was said. Through his keen brain passed the last

words which Joe Cardona had uttered the reference to the man in the gray fedora.

Cardona was right. That man could tell plenty about the death of Roy Selbrig. As yet, however, Cardona's

task was impossible. There were not sufficient clews to trail the man with the fedora.

The Shadow's laugh was repeated. It was a laugh of understanding. It meant that The Shadow knew the

identity of the passenger who had left the cab to enter the Commander Apartments. The Shadow, had he

chosen, could have cried out the name that Joe Cardona wanted; but The Shadow had desisted.

The time would come when Joe Cardona would learn. The detective's knowledge would be gained through

The Shadow. But for the present, The Shadow chose to wait. He was fighting a lone battle for the present; a

New crime would be attempted. The Shadow would have his opportunity to thwart them. When the murderer

BURBANK, at the table in the apartment above 4H, answered the call of a sinister voice. The Shadow's tones

ordered him to remain constantly at his post. Burbank responded his understanding. The Shadow had spoken.

When crime again was due, The Shadow would have more time to arrange his plans of action. Tonight, he

had not been present when Roy Selbrig had died. Would he be present when murder again stalked?

Whatever his plans, The Shadow had the key. His work was to watch for Harland Mullrick's next move. It

would be the forerunner of death. When Mullrick moved, The Shadow would respond!

The marquee in front of the Commander Apartments no longer held its human burden. That spot had served

The Shadow's purpose. In action and in silent listening, The Shadow had there remained unseen!

HARLAND MULLRICK, attired in dressing gown, was seated at the open window of his living room. It was

the next afternoon; the weather was mild outside. Pascual, an apprehensive look in his dark eyes, was

"What is the matter, Pascual?" he questioned in Spanish. "You seem to be afraid of something."

"The day grows late, senor," replied the servant in a sober tone. "It is not wise to sit beside the open window.

"I have seen," replied Pascual. "I have looked from that window, senor, at night. I have seen."

The servant paused to illustrate by spreading his arms apart. His serious expression made Mullrick wonder.

"Nonsense," he said. "If you should tell me, Pascual that you had seen human enemies, that would be

"A vampire!" laughed Mullrick. "Well, it would take something like a huge bat to hang on to those bricks.

As Pascual obeyed, responding to a knock that Mullrick had heard, Mullrick himself closed the window. He

"Hello, Jerry," said Mullrick quietly. "Sit down. I've been waiting for you to show up."

HERSTON nodded solemnly. He took a chair and waited for Mullrick to resume the conversation. Mullrick

"Jerry," he said, "as my confidant investigator or what have you, tell me your opinion of this Selbrig

Jerry Herston looked at the newspaper. He had already read the account which was evidenced by glaring

frontpage headlines. He perused it again, however; then looked squarely at his employer.

"Don't be foolish, Jerry," he said. "Take a look when you go downtown. You'll see more gray hats than any

"Any soft hat is a fedora, Jerry. The doorman at the Commander Apartments is highmannered. That's all. He

called the hat a fedora, and the news hounds picked it up because it sounded unusual. That's all. No, Jerry, I

"Suppose" Mullrick's tone was speculative "that I asked you, Jerry, to find the man who wore the gray

fedora at the Commander Apartments. Assuming that you were working blind as this Detective Cardona is

"That's a tough question, Mullrick. I've got something more important to talk about. Those chorines we met at

quarter past ten were all mixed up about the time. They'll say we met them at ten minutes of nine just as

"Forget your own opinions, Jerry," interposed Mullrick. "Take it for granted that I was late in meeting you

last night purely because I thought I was being watched when I left this apartment house. When a man's

"That's O.K.," responded Herston. "I get your point. I'm to be a detective tonight forget the alibi business.

Well, if I happened to be in Cardona's boots, I'd take a shot at finding Slugs Raffney. He's the guy that was

"He's a wise bimbo. Husky as a bull. Used to be a bouncer in a speak. He can use a gat, too. He's a good man

"No. Not unless he bobs up again. That would be a big mistake. Slugs ought to keep under cover."

"They knew he had dug out somewhere. He knows plenty of men who have dough. Working around the

speaks, you know. That gave him the acquaintances. The boys in the bad lands all figured that Slugs had gone

"If Cardona had found out anything about that Luis Santo business, he'd see a hookup quick enough. Slugs

would have been just the guy to hide out on a boat for a while. With some of his outfit, too. Those birds that

"Confine yourself to known facts," suggested Mullrick suavely. "Keep to this affair of last night. What

"None," decided Jerry. "Slugs has taken to cover. His mob is wiped out if there's any of them left, they

"All right," said Mullrick. "Well, if he can't get Slugs, what will Cardona do?"

"He'll look for the guy in the gray fedora," asserted Jerry Herston, in an emphatic tone.

"Because," said Herston, "he's got a good theory. The guy with the hat hasn't shown up, has he?" Herston

pointed to the columns in the late newspaper. "All right; that's given Cardona the hunch that the whole lay

was a setup. Selbrig groggy in the taxi. The other guy gets out; as soon as he's in the apartment house, up

"It would have been O.K. if the cops hadn't butted in. When they found that Slugs Raffney was in on the

"It was a pretty neat job at that," asserted Herston, in an approving tone. "Things went wrong that's all. Just

the same, it looked better than this finesse stuff you were talking about. A bunch of gats work better than

"At times," agreed Mullrick. "In Mexico, however, I have seen some murders that were intriguing, to say the

A pause. Finally, Mullrick arose. He went to the clothes closet, put on his coat, and took out his gray soft hat.

"Me?" Jerry snorted. "I've got a gray hat, too. Besides that, I'm the best alibi maker in New York. Don't forget

As the two neared the door, Mullrick noted that Pascual had come into the living room. He drew an envelope

"Be sure and mail this, Pascual," he said. "Put a stamp on it; send it later. Senor Herston and I are going out.

The words were a jargon of English mixed with Spanish terms. Pascual nodded to show that he understood.

When the two men had gone, the servant affixed a stamp to the letter and laid the envelope on the telephone

SOME minutes afterward, the door of the apartment opened softly. The tall form of The Shadow entered the

Peering from the entry, The Shadow spied the letter. With swift, stealthy stride, he covered the space between

The Shadow stared. The letter was addressed to Harland Mullrick, at this address! Suspecting trickery, The

Shadow deftly opened the flap, which was insecurely sealed. A folded sheet of paper came forth. It was

Without delay, The Shadow resealed the envelope. He replaced it on the table. He glided from the living

Pascual entered. He stared about suspiciously; he failed to see The Shadow's form. The secret visitant had

stepped behind the projecting side of the archway. Pascual went over to the letter. Momentarily, his view of

The next token of The Shadow's presence came when a light clicked in his sanctum. The Shadow's hands

appeared beneath the light. The girasol sparkled as the hands spread clippings that had come from Rutledge

Then came stenographic reports of Burbank's. These included all that had been said in Mullrick's apartment.

The Shadow considered the brief talk between Mullrick and Pascual. He viewed the detailed conversation

Through Mullrick's conversation, The Shadow was reading the man's thoughts. He traced the fact that

Mullrick, unquestionably a diplomat, frequently veiled the ideas that passed through his brain. He could see

The Shadow also gave close attention to the words of Pascual and Mullrick's reception of them. A laugh crept

through the sanctum. Upon a sheet of paper, The Shadow traced these conclusions:

A pause. The Shadow's hand lingered long above the paper. The words that were written began to disappear.

They vanished, one by one, as though wiped out by an unseen hand. When only blankness remained, The

This was the final conclusion. It was written slowly in even script. The words were watched by unseen eyes.

When they began to fade, the drying ink disappeared with the same precision as the making of the inscription

itself. Letter by letter, The Shadow's statement passed into oblivion save in the mind of the master

The light clicked off. The Shadow's laugh reverberated through the thick darkness. Another test was coming.

It would arrive when Harland Mullrick heard from the recipient of the second letter.

Roy Selbrig had died. What would be the fate of the next man? The hidden knowledge of The Shadow would

be needed in the approaching crisis. If the second man of four arrived to keep a rendezvous, it would behoove

Danger loomed; The Shadow knew it. He was one who relished danger, this phantom who fought with crime.

The Shadow's laugh, as it died grotesquely, seemed to show his scorn for the plotter whose plans confronted

The death of Roy Selbrig was but the stimulus for new efforts on The Shadow's part. The fading laugh in the

THREE days after the startling events which had marked the death of Roy Selbrig, a short, rotund man

entered the lobby of the Hotel Goliath, in New York. He signed the register, marking his name as H. J.

There was something furtive in the bearing of this man who called himself Pelley. The characteristic

displayed itself as soon as he was alone in his room on the thirteenth floor. He sat at a writing table in the

corner, and stared out into the growing dusk that formed a cloudy haze above Manhattan. Then, with a slight

"Mullrick?" he inquired, when he heard a voice over the wire. "Good. This is Burton Blissip, of Buffalo...

A pause while Blissip listened to Mullrick talk in a matteroffact tone. Then the rotund man took up the

"Followed your advice," he said. "Nobody knows I've come to New York. My name here is well, never

"I can tell you a lot about Mexico, when you get over here... I'll wait in until you come... What is that?"

Blissip's face clouded in momentary perplexity. Then it cleared. The man smiled.

"All right," he said. "I'll expect to hear from you before eleven o'clock... I'm not telling anyone that I'm in

town... This mysterious business of yours has puzzled me a bit, but I figure you can explain it all when you

see me... I brought along a map of Mexico, but a larger one would be better if you have it. Good... Don't

Burton Blissip of Buffalo hung up the receiver. He opened his suitcase and took out a folded map. He laid it

on the writing table. Glancing at his watch, he noted that it was nearly six o'clock. He decided to go out to

THE telephone call had been onesided. Harland Mullrick, seated in his living room, had spoken only in

short, terse syllables. Rising from his telephone table, he folded a slip of paper upon which he had written the

number 1378. He faced Jerry Herston. who was seated at the other side of the room.

"Another one of those nut phone calls," remarked Mullrick, in a nonchalant tone. "Ever since I've arrived

from Mexico, I've had crazy birds bothering me to find out if there are any opportunities down in that

"I noticed the other fellow was doing most of the talking," observed Herston. "Who was he?"

"I wrote his name here," returned Mullrick, holding up the slip of paper. "That doesn't mean anything,

though. I might as well forget it. You heard me stall the fellow, didn't you? I'll never bother to look him up."

Mullrick was strolling by the end window as he spoke. He stopped and raised the sash. Its creaking noise was

plain just above the sill. Mullrick tore the paper into two pieces and tossed the halves through the narrow

space between sash and sill. He closed the window and sat down to tune in the radio.

In his careless, indifferent pose, Harland Mullrick had not noticed that the torn pieces of paper had not passed

beyond the sill. They rested there, white bits upon the darkened sill. It was a mild evening; only a slight

IN the apartment above, Burbank laid aside his ear phones. He dropped his pencil on his sheet of notes. He

had heard the monosyllables of Mullrick's telephone conversation. They merely formed an unintelligible

"Hello... Who is calling... Oh, yes... I see. You decided to look me up... That's right. It's hardly important...

Yes... Yes... A good hotel... Yes... I cannot promise to see you tonight... I'm very busy; if I have the

opportunity, I'll get in touch with you. You understand, of course... All right... Good... Yes, I can... I have a

Under the notation, Burbank had added the remarks passed between Mullrick and Herston. After this, he had

added the comments: "window raised" and "radio turned on." Burbank had plainly heard the grating of the

lifted sash, which was just above the hidden microphone that Burbank had planted behind the radiator in

Knowing that there would be no further conversation during the next few minutes, Burbank had deserted his

post for the express purpose of learning if possible why Mullrick had raised the window. Moving to the

corresponding window of his own apartment, Burbank raised the sash and peered below. His back made a

bulky block against the dusky twilight. Looking downward, Burbank saw two white spots upon the outer sill

A slight flutter indicated that these were slips of paper. Burbank wanted them. Unlike The Shadow, he had no

capability for making precipitous descents. Nevertheless, Burbank was resourceful. He stepped back from the

window. He looked upward; then reached in that direction. He brought down a telescopic curtain rod which

Burbank, during his long hours of duty, resorted to one methodical habit as he bided away the time. He

always had a supply of chewing gum. Holding the curtain rod, he pulled a piece of gum from his mouth and

Leaning from the window, he stretched the rod downward. He pressed its end against one piece of paper and

Detaching the slip, Burbank let the rod down to capture the other piece of paper. Here he made an error in

calculation. The elusive paper flipped over from a gust of breeze; Burbank's curtain rod swung slightly. The

slip dropped from the edge of the outer sill. Caught in a slight eddy of air, it floated down the wall for a foot

This gave Burbank a more difficult task; at the same time, it obviated the need for caution. The slip of paper

was away from Mullrick's window. Climbing to the sill of his own window, Burbank clutched the window

frame with his right hand. The swinging curtain rod in his left he stretched his free arm along the wall and let

the end of the rod touch the cornice. It barely reached. A motion of his wrist; Burbank planted the gummed

Back to a safer position, Burbank brought the rod up hand over hand, telescoped it, and removed the second

bit of paper. He hurried back to the ear phones. He could hear the radio still playing.

Removing the set, Burbank put other ear phones on his head. He connected with The Shadow's sanctum,

while he laid out the slips of paper. The Shadow's voice came over the wire. In brief words, Burbank

Burbank closed the connection and went back to his dictograph receiver. He heard the radio stop abruptly. He

IN the apartment below, Harland Mullrick began to pace the floor. He was wrapped in thought. Jerry Herston

sat stolidly awaiting word from him. Pascual was crossing the living room, engaged on some minor duty.

It was quite dark outside; none of the three had observed the manipulated curtain rod which Burbank had

"I've got to be careful, Jerry," remarked Mullrick. "That's why I had you look over the telephone connection

to this apartment. You are sure that there's not a chance of a tapped wire at the terminal box?"

"Not a chance," returned Herston. "Say, Mullrick, if any dumb dicks are trying to get anything on you, I'd

"I'm counting on that, Jerry. At the same time, it pays to be cautious. When I deal with certain people, I don't

tell others about it. I've made an exception in your case, because I know I can rely on you."

Mullrick paused. It appeared for a few minutes that he intended to talk more fully. But as he surveyed Jerry

Herston with shrewd eyes, Mullrick evidently decided to keep his important ideas to himself.

"Fix up something for tonight," he ordered. "I'll go out with you again, Jerry. I want to think things over a

while, by myself. You run downtown for dinner. Suppose I meet you about eight o'clock."

Herston arose from his chair and strolled to the door. Pascual gave him his hat and coat. The exdetective

When he had gone, Harland Mullrick still continued to pace the floor. At last, he sat down by the table. He

Then, with definite deliberation, Mullrick drove a line directly through the name. That line was an indication

that Roy Selbrig was dead. He was the first man on the list that Luis Santo had given Mullrick.

As he had told Santo, Mullrick was keeping those names in mind. But with one gone off the list forever

Thoughtfully, Mullrick folded the sheet of paper. He was about to tear it up when he changed his mind. There

were some books lying on the table; they were large volumes that dealt with Mexico. Between the leaves of

one of these, a book entitled "The Conquest of the Aztecs," Mullrick placed the folded sheet of paper that

"Dinner?" responded Mullrick. "No, Pascual, I am not hungry. I shall dine later after I go out."

Going to a table drawer, Mullrick produced the folded map of Mexico. He opened it and ran his finger from

point to point. Burton Blissip had spoken of a map. This was an excellent one. Mullrick placed a finger upon

the State of Sinaloa, bordering, a narrow strip, upon the Pacific on a line with the tip of the Lower California

He traced his course eastward to the state of Durango. There, reflectively, Mullrick marked the spot that was

in his mind. He was debating with himself regarding Burton Blissip, the second of the four.

MILLIONS in mineral wealth there in the lost mines of Durango! With the knowledge that he already

possessed, Harland Mullrick was confident that he could find the chosen spot within the option limit of six

Yet Burton Blissip, like Roy Selbrig, could either make or mar the game. Blissip had come to New York in

response to Mullrick's second letter. Mullrick folded the map. What if he should ignore the man from

If Blissip were ignorant of what Mullrick wanted and Mullrick's letter had been a cagey one Blissip might

prove to be of no consequence in this affair. Yet the middle course did not appeal to Harland Mullrick. He

opened the Aztec volume and brought out the folded paper. He studied the crossedoff name of Roy Selbrig.

Burton Blissip, if he would accept an offer, would give surety to Mullrick's option even though Blissip's

demand might be exorbitant. Burton Blissip, if he were dead, like Roy Selbrig, could do naught to interfere

Nervously, Mullrick folded the paper and thrust it back into the big book. He clenched his fists feverishly, as

Then, seeing Pascual watching him, Mullrick laughed. His calm came back. Cool and calculating, he sat

"Dinner," he mused aloud. "It is not a bad idea, Pascual. I shall rest a little while, then go out to dinner, alone,

at some good hotel. After that, Pascual, I shall meet Senor Herston. I am worried a bit tonight. Restless,

UPSTAIRS, Burbank, at the ear phones, was recording what Mullrick had said. A clock on the table showed

half past seven. A soft whisper sounded through the room. Burbank pointed to the torn paper that lay beside

Burbank knew that the hidden eyes of The Shadow were studying that memorandum which Harland Mullrick

thought had been destroyed and scattered. A gloved hand reached forward and picked up the shorthand notes

One statement by Mullrick, when he had spoken over the phone, caught The Shadow's keen attention. It

A coincidence that number written while Mullrick had been speaking about a hotel. The Shadow knew the

answer. The man who had called Mullrick must be registered at some hotel in New York, occupying Room

The Shadow also noted other statements, particularly Mullrick's reference to a map. But his main thought was

directed to the matter of the hotel. New York, a city with hundreds of hotels, presented a tremendous problem

Burbank reached beside his table. He opened a suitcase which proved to be a portable filing cabinet with two

divisions. From the letter "H" he brought out a folder marked "Hotels." He placed it on the table. The Shadow

Beneath a shaded lamp in another room, The Shadow began a quick survey of the information. A soft laugh

sounded by the lamp. The Shadow had found a quick solution to the problem. The number of the hotel room

With ungloved finger, The Shadow was tracing through the tabulated statistics of hotels in Manhattan. These

reference sheets, which Burbank always had available as information for The Shadow's agents, was proving

useful. The Shadow was looking at the name of each hotel that had a thirteenth floor!

Oddly, the list was decidedly limited. The Shadow knew that such would be the case. The older hotels, those

erected more than two decades ago, were large structures, but not high ones. They were eliminated because

The modern hotels many in number reached to greater elevations. Here, however, the statistics showed

another point. In the great majority of such hotels, no thirteenth floor existed, by number. To avoid

complications with superstitious guests, the modern hotel owners had long since adopted the practice of

The peculiar custom was serving The Shadow. One by one, with quick rapidity, he eliminated the newest of

Manhattan hotels, until only a scattering few remained which were tall enough to have thirteen floors, and

whose proprietors were bold enough to give the thirteenth story its proper number!

Another fact served The Shadow. Of the hotels in the restricted list, there were some of limited floor space.

These would not have rooms numbered as high as 78. The Shadow was looking for a large hotel, a modern

one, that had introduced the number 13 in its list of stories, in defiance of the accepted custom. It must also

The Shadow's hand inscribed the names of four hotels. In this final list was the Goliath. It remained only for

the blackgarbed investigator to visit those four, and learn facts regarding the occupant of Room 1378. With

Burbank, at his ear phones, had no cognizance of what The Shadow was doing. There were no further sounds

from the apartment below at least no sounds which were distinguishable. Pacing feet, closing doors: these

OUTSIDE, Harry Vincent was again watching the apartment house. Piqued at his failure to trail Mullrick on

a previous evening, The Shadow's agent was determined to do his best tonight. He waited across the street.

The man who had come from Mexico cast quick, short glances up and down the street. Carelessly tilting his

gray fedora, he strolled along; then, suddenly, hailed a passing cab and stepped aboard. Harry leaped into his

The cab gained as it neared Times Square. It swerved into a side street, and pulled up in front of the Hotel

Goliath. Harry, sliding his car into a parking space fifty feet behind, caught a glimpse of Harland Mullrick

Someone accidentally blocked Harry at the revolving door. The delay was short, but it proved fatal to Harry's

chase. When he reached the hotel lobby, Harry could see no sign of Harland Mullrick. He suspected that his

Nevertheless, Harry had something to report. He went to a telephone and called Burbank. He gave the

Seated at his table, Burbank spoke in quiet tones, that The Shadow might hear. There was no response.

Burbank swung about. He realized that he was alone. The Shadow had already gone. He was not here to

A strange caprice of fate had manifested itself. The Shadow, with the list of four possible hotels, had gone to

make a quick tour of investigation. There was only one chance in four that he would choose the Goliath first,

Meanwhile, Harry Vincent, though unsuccessful in his trailing of Harland Mullrick, had at least gained

information which would have gone well with The Shadow's list. Harry had seen the man from Mexico

entering the lobby of the Goliath; that fact, taken at face value, eliminated the other three hotels.

Would The Shadow fail tonight? Would death strike without the intervention of his hand? These were

questions that the coming minutes would answer. The key to grim events once more rested in the realm of

Burbank, at his table, sensed an importance to Harry Vincent's report. He signaled The Shadow's sanctum.

There was no response. He knew that The Shadow was abroad upon an important mission. He could only

There was no use in instructing Harry Vincent to remain at the Goliath. The Shadow's agent could do

nothing. Somehow, Burbank realized that The Shadow's destination would eventually be that same hotel.

Such was the situation. Death threatened. The Shadow sought the spot. Meanwhile, the game of doom was in

IT was exactly eight o'clock when Harry Vincent left the lobby of the Hotel Goliath after his futile effort to

follow the trail of Harland Mullrick. At fifteen minutes past the hour, a telephone operator, answering a call

registered on the hotel switchboard, was startled to hear the gasping of a man's voice.

The gasp ended in a choke. There was the sound of the telephone tumbling to the floor. Hastily, the girl called

"Something has happened in thirteen seventyeight," she informed. "It sounds it sounds like a man was

The nervous clerk looked about the lobby. He grabbed a bell boy by the arm, and sent him after the house

detective, who was at the other side of the floor. The sleuth arrived; he heard the clerk's statement. He hurried

The door of Room 1378 had a spring lock. The house detective opened it with a pass key. He and the bellhop

stood aghast after they had entered. In the corner, by the telephone table, a man was lying on the floor, the

The house dick called detective headquarters. The response was prompt. Ten minutes later, Detective Joe

Cardona and a police surgeon were in the room where death had struck. Cardona was gazing at the full, fat

face of a short, rotund man, who appeared to be the victim of a murderer's hand.

"He's registered as H. J. Pelley, Columbus, Ohio," informed the house detective. "I don't think that's his real

"Look in his suitcase," said the house dick. "It was open; I didn't touch anything in it, but I saw the top letter

Cardona looked in the suitcase. He found a small stack of letters. Each was addressed to Burton Blissip.

Cardona ran through them hastily. They consisted of bills and notices; mail which Blissip had evidently

The swarthy sleuth went back to the corner of the room. The police surgeon was making his examination. He

"Evidently by an injection. Some virulent poison. I shall try to find the exact means."

Cardona nodded. He looked at the table where the telephone had been. He noted a map spread out. It rested

upon a big blotting pad, and it was studded with whiteheaded pins. The map showed the country of Mexico.

THE detective noticed that the pins were chiefly at the left of the map, indicating spots near the Pacific

Ocean. Looking more closely, he observed that they ran along the range of the Sierra Madre Mountains.

Some of the pins were tilted at an angle. It was obvious that someone had been touching them with finger

tips, moving the pins from point to point. Tiny holes punched in the surface of the map were proof of the

Metatitos Papasquiaro Chavarria Xoconostle Huejuquilla Cardona read these unfamiliar names of

towns that were indicated, going southward from a spot in a state called Durango. Then his eye moved farther

The head of the pin that marked Guadalajara was different from the others. It was white; but it was pressed

flat. It was evidently formed of a soft clay, a putty used instead of harder substance. Someone had pressed

"Any signs of an injection mark?" questioned Cardona, turning to the police surgeon.

A moment later an exclamation came from the surgeon. He had discovered the mark.

"A puncture!" he declared. "On the tip of the right forefinger! Quite plain. It appears to be the cause of

"Go down to the lobby," he ordered. "I expect Inspector Klein at any moment. Tell him where I am. Also

When the house detective reached the lobby, he saw a redfaced man standing near the desk. With him was a

quietly dressed man of medium height. The house man decided that the first was Inspector Timothy Klein;

the second another detective from headquarters. He was right. When he spoke to Klein, the inspector

As Klein and Clausey stalked away, the house dick watched them. Neither he nor the headquarters men saw

another person who was interested in their actions. A stranger, tall and dignified, had entered through the

revolving door while they were talking. His keen eyes sparkled as he watched the headquarters men go

As the house dick turned away, the tall stranger followed after Klein and Clausey. To all appearances, he was

merely a guest at the Goliath. But there was something in his manner and appearance that marked him as

DRESSED in black, wearing a dark soft hat, he made a somber figure as he strode easily but rapidly toward

the elevators. His face was a masklike countenance. From it peered two vivid eyes. The principal feature of

This personage stepped aboard the same car with the inspector and the detective. He was holding what

appeared to be a coat over his arm. Closer inspection would have shown it to be a black cloak. No one in the

car, however, gave particular note to the stranger. He stood quietly in a corner, behind the other passengers.

Klein and Clausey were engaged in a lowpitched conversation. They stepped off at the thirteenth floor. The

solemn stranger followed them. Klein pointed to the open door of 1378, a short way along the corridor. He

The blacksuited stranger followed them with easy, noiseless paces. He stopped one door short. As Inspector

Klein and Detective Clausey entered Room 1378, the tall visitor drew a thin steel instrument from a pocket.

There was a glimmer of a flashing stone upon the stranger's left hand. Sparks seemed to leap as the tall form

disappeared into the darkness of the adjoining room. The gleam of that jewel told the identity of the visitor.

The room which The Shadow had so smoothly entered was empty. A darkened transom above it had

indicated the fact. When the door closed, complete blackness swallowed the visitant. A flashlight twinkled;

its rays went out. In the fraction of a second, The Shadow had seen a closed door that marked the connection

The Shadow listened at the door. He could hear the buzz of voices on the other side. He distinguished words.

Oddly, Inspector Klein was talking about the very door which now concealed The Shadow from those on the

"These doors are no longer used as connections," Cardona was explaining. "Besides that, this writing table

hasn't been moved; it blocks the door. The house detective told me about it; and we looked through the next

"The cause of death!" returned Cardona grimly. "This man, Burton Blissip, alias H. J. Pelley, was poisoned

Cardona removed the poisoned pin, taking it carefully by the base. He held it up to the light. The inspector

could see that the pin widened just below the putty head, to form a hollow container.

"Whoever was in here," declared Cardona, "planted that pin on the map. Maybe he brought all the pins along

with him. We don't know. Anyway, the poisoned one was set here, right on this town marked Gwad Gwad

Cardona replaced the poisoned pin upon the city of Guadalajara. Klein stared at the map. So did Clausey.

Two men, discussing districts of Mexico, had been using pins to point out certain places. One, who had

planted a poisoned pin among the others, had been pressing pinheads in hope that the other would follow his

Thus had Burton Blissip died. Unwittingly, he had pressed the pin that rested upon Guadalajara. He had

received the poisoned charge. It was hardly conceivable that this could have happened had Blissip been

PEOPLE appeared at the door. The house detective entered, excited. He strode up to Joe Cardona. He pointed

"Here's the girl who received the call," announced the hotel dick. "Miss Ewens is her name. She can tell you

"I heard a man gasping," said the girl. "He was saying something like 'Merk.' He was repeating the name "

"The name of his enemy!" interposed Inspector Klein. "Get the phone book, Joe! Look up any names that

"Mexico," said Cardona, in a depreciating tone, pointing to the map. "That's what he was trying to say. It

Inspector Klein nodded. He had a great respect for Cardona's quick decisions. The house detective grinned

"Guess I'm dumb," he said. "I thought we had a real clew. But here's one this fellow "

He turned to a young man who wore a bell boy's uniform. Behind him was another; evidently an elevator

"I I was waitin' here on the thirteenth floor," stammered the bellhop. "Goin' down. See? A guy gets off the

elevator comin' up. He kinda brushes past me an' stops at this door. I turn aroun' an' see him knockin'. Then

"I seen him, too," offered the elevator operator. "I only noticed the guy when he got off. I seen him almost

bump into Mark. When I gets higher up, I comes down, an' Mark, he gets on the car with me. I kids him

"I didn't see his face, neither," agreed Willicks. "Leastwise, so I could remember it. But he was a tall guy,

with stooped shoulders, when I seen him from the back. Wearin' a soft gray hat "

"Yeah!" broke in Mark. "Stuck kinda on the side of his head. That's what he was wearin'."

Joe Cardona looked at Jim Clausey. The other detective nodded. Cardona swung to Inspector Timothy Klein.

"Inspector," he asserted, "there's a connection between this death and the killing of Roy Selbrig. We've got

two links. I found out that Selbrig used to be in Mexico. Here's Blissip, dead and he had some interest in

"But the real shot is this same man in both cases. We've got to locate him the tall fellow with the stoop,

who wears a gray fedora. When we get him, inspector, we'll know who was responsible for the death of Roy

THOSE in the room of death formed a silent, nodding group. There were voices at the door; Cardona turned

to see that reporters had arrived. Among them he recognized Clyde Burke, reporter for the New York Classic.

The group broke up. Arrangements were made for the removal of Burton Blissip's body. When the hall was

temporarily cleared, a tall figure emerged from Room 1376. Quietly, in his guise of a calmfaced individual

Clyde Burke, a secret agent of The Shadow, was on the job. He would get Joe Cardona's story of Burton

Blissip's death. It would contain nothing more than that which The Shadow had already heard.

Tonight, The Shadow had listened to Cardona blunder. He had heard the ace detective deliberately pass up a

clew. For The Shadow knew that Burton Blissip, dying, had not tried to say the word Mexico. His endeavor

had been to pronounce the name of a man. His feeble gasps of "Merk" had been an effort to say "Mullrick."

On the other point, however, Cardona was right. The star sleuth wanted to find the man who had worn the

gray fedora. That man, he believed, knew much about the deaths of Selbrig and Blissip.

A murderer a man who had come from Mexico the one who had worn the gray hat. Here were three

leads, which Cardona believed would culminate in a complete discovery of identity. Hopeless though his

That chance lay through The Shadow's aid. When The Shadow was ready, Cardona would reach the end of

his quest. For the present, however, Cardona, with his partner Clausey, would have to work blind.

The Shadow, knowing that two more men might be involved, preferred to work alone. The time was not yet

Unknown death had been the lot of Luis Santo. Known death had befallen Roy Selbrig and Burton Blissip.

Thrice had The Shadow viewed the results of treachery and crime. The Shadow was awaiting the next

"THIS is getting too close, Mullrick." It was Jerry Herston who spoke from his chair in Mullrick's living

room. He was referring to the news accounts, which told of Burton Blissip's death. It was the evening

"To you!" blurted the exdetective. "Say, Mullrick, I've got the brains to see it, even if you haven't."

"Regarding last night," remarked Mullrick suavely. "I met you shortly before eight o'clock, didn't I, Jerry?"

"That is, by your watch," added Mullrick. "Your friend Holwell happened to notice the time also. He had no

"Of course, Jerry," interposed Mullrick, "it was my actual intention to be with you at eight. Therefore your

conscience need not be worried. I merely chanced to fall asleep in my chair. Pascual failed to waken me.

Hence I might well have been with you at eight o'clock. Stick to what your watch said."

"Don't worry about me," argued Jerry. "Worry about yourself. Cardona's after the guy with the gray fedora "

"And he's got another tip. He figures that the bird with the gray hat has been to Mexico. Laugh that one off!"

Mullrick did laugh, but Herston felt that the tone was hollow. The exdetective got up and walked about the

Harland Mullrick quietly picked up the book that dealt with the conquest of the Aztecs. From it, he calmly

drew forth the folded paper. While Jerry Herston was staring gloomily from the window, Mullrick looked at

the crossedout name of Roy Selbrig. Beneath it, he wrote the name of Burton Blissip.

Solemnly, he drew a line through the name. He replaced the paper in the book, and put the heavy volume on

"Going out?" queried Herston suddenly. "Or do you want to meet me downtown again?"

"I'll go out with you," responded Mullrick. "Just a few minutes, Jerry. I want to write a letter."

He sat down at the table and folded a sheet of blank paper. He placed it in an envelope which he addressed to

himself. Then, in brief, methodical fashion, Mullrick inscribed an actual note. Its wording was as follows:

The letter went into another envelope, which Mullrick sealed and addressed to Sidney Cooperdale, Kewson,

Long Island. He placed a stamp upon the envelope and pocketed it. He handed the first envelope to Pascual,

"Mail this, Pascual, mio amigo," said Mullrick. "You can leave it by the telephone until you are ready to go

His precaution taken, Mullrick prepared to leave. He decided to change his necktie. That completed, he

brushed his hair in front of a mirror, and finally decided that he was sufficiently presentable for a tour of the

Mullrick called for coats and hats. As he donned his gray fedora, he turned to the mirror and adjusted the hat

"I'd like to see it in the ash can," growled the exdetective. "Look at mine. I threw my old gray bonnet out.

"Not even a soft hat," laughed Mullrick. "Particularly one which an English doorman might happen to call a

fedora. Jerry, for a man who's been a detective, I can't understand how you concede those headquarters men

"Or Mexico, either," stated Mullrick. "Some day, Jerry, I'll tell you a lot you don't know. Well let's forget it

The two men left the apartment house. On the street, Mullrick glanced cautiously in both directions. Jerry

"Vampiros," chuckled Mullrick. He stared up at the apartment house. "Pascual thinks he has seen them. Huge

bats, as big as human beings. None here tonight." Mullrick lowered his gaze. "Quick, Jerry! Grab that cab!"

The two men hopped into a passing taxi. Mullrick gave a destination. He changed it after they had gone a few

"That's just it," said Mullrick solemnly. "You think of some things, Jerry; you totally forget others. I merely

IN the following cab, a pair of burning eyes were staring toward the vehicle ahead. It was not Harry Vincent

who was trailing Harland Mullrick this evening. The Shadow had taken up the work himself.

He saw Mullrick's ruse. His quick eyes noted an avenue ahead of the side street along which the cabs were

The driver pulled to a stop. He stared in bewilderment as a tendollar bill fluttered upon the wheel. He

looked about for the passenger. There was no one in the cab. The driver rubbed his head. He had not even

remembered the passenger entering the cab, back by the Belisarius Arms. This departure with the payment

The Shadow was moving swiftly through the alleyway at which the cab had stopped. He was beating Harland

To find out, Mullrick would probably choose a sure and effective way. At the avenue, he would tell his driver

to turn right for one square, then right again at the next side street. The ruse would give positive evidence of

The Shadow, cutting through at the middle of the block, reached the next street. He saw two cabs standing in

front of a small hotel. He stepped into the first of the vehicles. In a quiet voice, he ordered the drowsy driver

The cab moved slowly from the curb. A few moments later came proof that The Shadow's surmise of Harland

Mullrick's method was correct. The cab containing Mullrick and Herston whisked by The Shadow's taxi.

Within their cab, Mullrick and Herston laughed as they neared the next avenue. Mullrick ordered the driver to

"Showed you something, eh, Jerry?" questioned Mullrick. "If that fellow was following us, he'd have shown

Neither man had any suspicion of the cab which had pulled away from the little hotel just before they had

arrived. Thus they did no more than glance casually behind. The Shadow's new cab, in the traffic of the

MULLRICK ordered the driver to stop near a large Fortysecond Street restaurant. As the two passengers

A cab had pulled up ahead. Mullrick did not notice it. As he neared the corner, he drew the letter from his

pocket; holding it close to his body, he reached out with his other hand to post the letter.

At that moment, a tall man stepped from behind him and thrust a long arm forward toward the box. Mullrick

saw three envelopes in a gloved hand; then, as the stranger withdrew to give Mullrick precedence, the gloved

Looking down, he saw that the other man was stooping to pick up his letters. With a smile, Mullrick decided

that the posting of his own letter was more important. He again reached for the box.

The Shadow's burning gaze turned upward. From the spot below, his eyes saw the address on Mullrick's

letter. Then Mullrick was turning away. With highbuttoned coat and cocked gray hat, the stoopshouldered

The Shadow laughed as he glided away from the mail box. He had finished with Harland Mullrick for

tonight. The Shadow had learned all that he wished to know. The thirdletter had been mailed. The Shadow

If Sidney Cooperdale should choose to confer with Harland Mullrick, The Shadow would be ready. He, the

mysterious being of the darkness, would be there to watch for tokens of impending death!

SIDNEY COOPERDALE was seated in the living room of his Long Island bungalow home. A onestory

building located near other houses of the same type, this formed a spot of seclusion for the man who had

Cooperdale was a big, overbearing man with sharp eyes that peered from beneath bushy eyebrows. Although

well along in the years of middle age, he showed a powerful physique and a determination that produced a

Cooperdale, although he had never been a fullfledged archaeologist, had managed to gain his share of spoils

when on expeditions. He had shown a marked ability in accumulating objects of lesser value which he had

sold to collectors. The result was that Cooperdale had retired while still in his prime.

It was dinner time. Cooperdale's servant, a solemnfaced fellow, was entering the bungalow with a supply of

"What's been keeping you, Lowder?" he demanded. "I expected to find you here when I came in."

"Saturday, Mr. Cooperdale," returned Lowder, in a placid tone. "Every one seems to be attending to their

Cooperdale saw a long package standing by the wall. From its shape, it might have contained a rifle or a

"I didn't order any firearms from New York," he said, as he picked up the package. "Wait a minute, Lowder!

Cooperdale tore away the wrapping. He exposed a cardboard tube beneath. Ripping off the end, he produced

"Hmmm," he mused. "I wonder who sent me this? Someone back from Asia probably an old friend on

"This cane," explained Cooperdale, "is a Penang lawyer. An odd name for a walking stick, eh, Lowder? In the

city of Penang there is supposed to be one way to settle arguments. That is with the aid of a stick shaped like

"Quite light for its size," added Cooperdale, weighing the cane with one hand. "Most of the Penang lawyers

that I have examined were heavier than this. It's an excellent specimen, however. It will look well in my curio

"I am still wondering who sent it, however" Cooperdale mused thoughtfully as he passed the cane to

Lowder "but I shall probably learn that later. Chances are one of my old acquaintances will call up and take

LOWDER went to the rear of the hallway. He stopped in front of two doors that were side by side. He opened

the one on the left. He turned on a lamp to reveal a small room stocked with an assortment of curios. When

Sidney Cooperdale remained in the living room while Lowder was preparing dinner. After a while in

thoughtful silence, he went to the telephone. The number that he called was Gotham 97194. When a voice

"Mr. Mullrick?... Good. Sidney Cooperdale calling... Your letter... Yes, I have received it. I have destroyed it.

I should like to meet you, Mr. Mullrick... In New York? Well, hardly. I detest going to the city, Mr.

Mullrick... Yes! Your letter stated that you would be willing to call on me... I should like to see you tonight...

Unfortunately, Mr. Mullrick, tomorrow would not be suitable. I intend to take a trip far out on the island...

Very well, then... I shall expect you. Kewson is about fortyfive minutes from Manhattan."

A short pause; then, in a decided tone, Sidney Cooperdale gave his final remarks.

"I can tell you much about Mexico," he asserted. "Facts that may, perhaps, amaze you. Buried secrets of the

Aztecs, if such matters interest you... Yes, tonight will be your one opportunity to see me, Mr. Mullrick."

As Cooperdale hung up the telephone, he noticed Lowder standing in the doorway. The servant was there to

White he ate, the bushybrowed man began to show traces of nervousness. He spoke to Lowder in a

"Lowder," he said, "I feel in a rather troubled mood. Matters which I cannot explain invariably disturb me."

"Perhaps that started it. There is another matter. A gentleman wrote me that he was anxious to see me. I

invited him here tonight. He seemed a trifle reluctant, but finally consented to make the trip out here. From

"Yes. However, I shall have to remain hereabouts. I believe that I shall drop over and see the Westertons after

I have finished dinner. If the gentleman arrives, Lowder, point out the curio room to him; then come over and

Finishing dinner, Cooperdale arose and strolled about the hall. Lighting a pipe, he wandered into the curio

room. He turned on a small lamp in the corner, that the room might be ready for his visitor.

Later, Cooperdale called to Lowder from his bedroom. The servant entered the door on the right, at the end of

the hall. He found Cooperdale fuming because he could not find a clean shirt. Lowder dug the required

Five minutes later, Cooperdale appeared in the hallway and beckoned to Lowder, who was beyond the open

"Be ready here in the living room," ordered Cooperdale. "Be prompt when my guest arrives. Show him where

the curio room is located, and hurry over to inform me that he is here. You are becoming sluggish, Lowder.

Here, help yourself to one of these cigars. Act the part of master of the house while I am absent."

Lowder smiled after Cooperdale had strolled out. He lighted his cigar, took a chair in the living room, and

began to read. This was an old habit of Cooperdale's, giving Lowder a treat which the servant enjoyed.

NOT more than twenty minutes after Cooperdale's departure, there was a rap at the door. Lowder was rather

surprised that the expected guest should have arrived so soon. When he reached the front door, the servant

found a man standing on the gravel walk. He noticed a tanned face beneath a gray fedora hat, which was

"Good evening," answered the visitor, in a brusque tone. "I want to see Mr. Cooperdale. He is expecting me."

As the visitor showed no immediate response to the invitation, Lowder stepped out upon the walk beside him.

"Would you mind waiting in the curio room, sir?" he asked. "It is the far door on the left."

"Yes, sir. The other is Mr. Cooperdale's bedroom, which adjoins the curio room. Mr. Cooperdale is over at

the Westertons. A short piece from here, sir. They have no telephone. I shall run over there promptly and

The visitor entered. Lowder watched him for a moment; he noticed the man's stooped shoulders, and the

angled position of his expensive gray hat. Lowder went down the walk and hurried off toward the Westerton

As he reached the house toward which he was going, Lowder glanced back. He fancied, for a moment, that he

had caught a glimpse of the gray hat outside Cooperdale's bungalow. He wondered if the visitor had decided

to leave. Then Lowder, catching no further glimpse of gray, figured that he was wrong.

THE servant found his master at the Westertons. Cooperdale, in the midst of a discussion with his friends,

seemed rather annoyed at Lowder's early appearance. However, he excused himself and announced that he

"That's right," recalled Cooperdale. "I left some here, didn't I? You bring them, Lowder."

While the servant was gathering the empty bottles, Cooperdale left the Westerton bungalow and walked

across the lawn to his own home. He entered the hallway of the bungalow, and went to the rear. He stopped a

moment at the door on the left; then, as an afterthought, decided to enter his bedroom. He opened the door on

As he closed the door behind him, Cooperdale, in the darkness of the room, noted a ray of light from the door

that connected the bedroom with the curio room. He stopped dead still. In sudden alarm, he made a grab for

the knob of the door to the hall. A choking scream came from his lips. He sank writhing on the floor.

"Lowder! Lowder!" Cooperdale's screams were gasps. They turned to mere motions of the lips as the man

The servant, coming with the bottles, did not hear the call. He was strolling toward the door of the bungalow.

His destination was the kitchen, which he intended to enter through the front hall.

Lowder was not the only figure upon the darkened lawn. Momentarily obscured by the shelter of a bush, so

motionless that it seemed nothing more than a shade of night, a blackened form was waiting. As Lowder

entered by the front door, this figure came to life. Moving swiftly, it circled to the rear of the bungalow.

The Shadow was here. Stealthily, the blackclad master paused phantomlike outside the window of Sidney

Cooperdale's bedroom. Noiselessly, The Shadow raised the sash. His tall figure reached the sill.

A soft sound came to The Shadow's keen ears. It was a hiss from the darkness. The Shadow's arm stretched

forth and pushed the door to the curio room until it opened fully. On the floor lay the Penang lawyer. The

The Shadow sprang from the sill. As his feet struck the floor, his body stopped, and his right hand, gloved,

grasped the walking stick just below the spot from which the head had been removed.

Then, with a sweep, The Shadow turned toward Cooperdale's bedroom. In response to a new hissing sound,

THE rays revealed a snake, some five feet long. The serpent's head was rising from the floor. Its neck was

spread, like a hood. Its wicked, forklike tongue was threatening. The snake was about to strike.

It was the sudden appearance of the light that momentarily delayed the reptile's thrust. The beady eyes

flashed as the head wavered. With a hiss, the snake snapped forward, just as a swish came through the air.

The Shadow had swung the walking stick. Like a whip through the darkness, the long cane lashed the snake

at the beginning of the strike. The serpent missed. Again the stick whistled. The snake's body writhed

Two more fierce strokes, and The Shadow's work was done. The snake still twisted, but its malignant life was

ended. The Shadow stepped by the spot. His light revealed Sidney Cooperdale's agonized form. Cooperdale

There was a knock at the door. Lowder, coming from the kitchen, had heard the vicious swishes of The

Shadow's effective weapon. The servant had located the sounds as coming from his master's room.

The Shadow let the cane fall to the floor. As it clattered there, the blackclad visitor whirled to the window.

His lithe body glided above the sill. The sash descended silently, as Lowder opened the door to Cooperdale's

Lost in enshrouding darkness, The Shadow was an invisible creature. Yet there was a token of his presence; a

The Shadow had arrived at the window of the room too late to prevent the poisonous snake from striking

Sidney Cooperdale. Another man had died; the third on Harland Mullrick's list had felt the stroke of doom!

MIDNIGHT. A group of soberfaced men were gathered in Sidney Cooperdale's living room. Inspector

Timothy Klein, Detective Joe Cardona, and Jim Clausey, were three members of the group. Lowder was

"It's plain enough, inspector," asserted Joe Cardona. "Cooperdale received the cane in the afternoon. This

"The snake was in the cane. The stick was hollow. All he had to do was open the door of Cooperdale's

bedroom the little door that led there from the curio room and then scram before the snake got loose."

"I didn't see his face, sir," he declared. "He was a tall rogue, with stooped shoulders. I talked to him outside

the bungalow. He seemed loath to step into the light while I was there. He was wearing a gray hat a soft

"Hear that?" asked Cardona. "The man we're after. He was here tonight. Tell us, Lowder, about some of your

"They were many, sir. He went to the Orient; to Egypt; with various expeditions. But his favorite country was

"Mexico," declared Cardona. "Roy Selbrig was in Mexico. Burton Blissip was in Mexico. Sidney Cooperdale

There was a rap at the door. Cardona answered it. A tall man entered. His hat rested atop a mass of bushy

"We're glad to see you," asserted the detective. "We're also sorry to have put you to all this trouble."

"None at all," said the grayhaired man, in a rich voice. "In fact, I am quite interested in this matter. I

consider it fortunate that I happened to call up my old friend, Doctor Rhodion, the celebrated zoologist."

"We called him first," admitted Cardona. "When we learned that he was ill in bed, we did not know what to

do next. Then came a return call from Rhodion, stating that you had happened to telephone him. He said that

he had managed to persuade you to come out here. You know all about snakes, I understand."

CARDONA led the way to Cooperdale's bedroom. The dead man's body had been removed. The snake,

however, was still upon the floor. The grayhaired professor nodded as he looked at the reptile.

"There's no question about Cooperdale's death," stated Cardona. "The police surgeon recognized at once that

it was from the bite of a poisonous snake. But we'd never seen a snake like this before. Here's the cane that it

"This species of snake," he said, "is called the naja haje. It is the Egyptian cobra. A most venomous reptile.

The fact that it was in this cane is quite interesting; and also readily understood."

"The faquirs of Egypt street jugglers of Cairo perform a most curious trick with snakes of this species;

after it has been rendered harmless, of course. Their feat is almost a survival of a trick attributed to the

"That the naja haje easily assumes a condition of rigidity. Pressure against a spot just below its head causes it

to resemble a stout cudgel. It can be handled as such; but when struck against the ground, the paralysis is

"Then," remarked Cardona, "when this snake was loosed from the hollow cane, the man who performed the

"None at all," stated Professor Scudder. "The reptile, experiencing a reawakening of life, would not have

"The lighting of these rooms, I may add, would have been all in favor of the reptile. The naja haje, like the

"Cooperdale," said Cardona, "was in the dark. The snake must have been here by the connecting door. We

believe that he saw the cane, picked it up, and then encountered the snake. He must have been bitten while

Cardona spoke with such emphasis that Professor Scudder made no reply. The savant seemed more interested

in the snake than in the crime. Nevertheless, he listened while Cardona recounted all the details.

"We know the man," decided the detective. "That is, we'll know him when we get him. But it's a crazy

hookup. A snake from Egypt, in a cane from Penang, placed here by a man from Mexico!"

Thanking Professor Scudder for his visit, Cardona offered to take the learned man back to Manhattan.

"I was at the Cobalt Club when I called Doctor Rhodion," he said. "A friend of mine a Mr. Cranston

Joe Cardona knew the name. Lamont Cranston, millionaire globetrotter, had a home in New Jersey, and

lived there when in America. He spent much of his time, however, at the Cobalt Club.

Professor Scudder shook hands with the detective and Inspector Klein. A smile appeared upon his broad,

friendly face as he bowed himself out and entered a luxurious limousine that awaited him. The chauffeur

When the limousine reached the Cobalt Club, Professor Scudder alighted. He went into the club; several

minutes later, a tall, dignified man came out. The chauffeur recognized his master, Lamont Cranston.

While the car was rolling toward the Holland Tunnel, Lamont Cranston drew an object from beneath his coat.

This act denoted a strange fact. The broadfaced personage who had posed as Professor Scudder was now in

the guise of Lamont Cranston, whose features possessed thin lips and hawklike nose!

The wig went into a portfolio that lay upon the rear seat. It joined the folds of a black cloak and the flat body

of a broadbrimmed slouch hat. Here was another strange fact. The identity of Lamont Cranston was also an

assumed one. The being who rode in the limousine was none other than The Shadow!

Detective Joe Cardona would have been amazed had he known these truths. He might have realized then that

The Shadow had been present when the police had reached Sidney Cooperdale's bungalow, that the phantom

listener had heard the call put in to Doctor Rhodion, that he, in turn, had called the zoologist, and announced

Thus had The Shadow entered upon the scene after the detectives had investigated. In return for his

illuminating data regarding the reptile known as the naja haje, he had learned all the findings that the police

CARDONA was still at Cooperdale's bungalow. He had finished his quiz of Lowder, but he knew that the

servant was stunned by his master's death. Of Lowder's innocence, there seemed little doubt. Cardona

"We're letting you stay here, Lowder," he told the servant. "Get some rest; maybe you can give us clearer

testimony later. Of course, we must leave a man here with you. Detective Clausey will remain."

Jim Clausey took charge as the others departed. He told Lowder to sleep on the couch in the living room. The

old servant wearily stretched out and quickly fell asleep. Clausey sprawled in a big chair, and remained

Dawn appeared. Clausey was half dozing, yet vigilant. He snapped up suddenly as he heard a plaintive cry

from Lowder. The servant sat bolt upright on the couch. He stared wonderingly at the detective.

"I remember now," said Lowder slowly. "I remember. But it seems it seems that I heard him talking. Wait a

"Mr Cooperdale talking on the telephone, sir. Just as I came in to call him to dinner. He was talking to the

"The fellow with the gray fedora," prompted Clausey. "You told us that Cooperdale called him, and spoke to

"Yes, sir. But I was bewildered after I discovered my master dead. I could remember nothing clearly. Now it

"Yes. Mr. Cooperdale pronounced his name. I remember it perfectly, now. The man whom he was calling

Clausey whistled. He remembered the telephone operator's testimony in the Hotel Goliath; how she had heard

Burton Blissip try to pronounce a word: "Merk." Cardona had taken it for Mexico. Cardona was wrong.

The detective wrote the name upon a slip of paper. He pocketed it with a smile. This was his clew; one that

"We'll put that in your testimony, Lowder," said Clausey, to the servant. "Go back to sleep. You need more

Lowder rolled back upon the couch. Jim Clausey resumed his vigil, wide awake. He would follow this clew

when he returned to Manhattan. A man would be out to relieve him by nine o'clock. This was something

better than the thankless job of trailing Slugs Raffney, the gang leader who was lying low.

Elation was the spirit that Jim Clausey had imbibed. He had gained a spoken clew; a name which Sidney

Cooperdale had pronounced, and which Lowder had recalled. The trail of a murderer opened up before Jim

The detective was sure that he would get one man who had killed three: the slayer of Roy Selbrig, Burton

Blissip, and Sidney Cooperdale. He, Jim Clausey, would uncover the man from Mexico, the assassin who

He knew the name: Mullrick. Jim Clausey would find success where Joe Cardona had encountered only

AT eight o'clock in the morning, Harland Mullrick, attired in dressing gown, was scanning the front page of a

The death of Sidney Cooperdale, former member of archaeological expeditions, was a startling event. The

introduction of a venomous snake into his home through the medium of a hollow cane denoted the hand of an

Mullrick reread the story. It did not contain details regarding the naja haje, or Egyptian cobra. Professor

Scudder had not arrived at Cooperdale's until after the departure of the reporters who had covered the story.

Nevertheless, the news men had stressed the fact that the suspected murderer was a man who wore a gray

fedora. They had caught up Cardona's train of argument, and had stressed the testimony given by Lowder,

Mullrick noted one paragraph in particular. It included a statement made by Lowder. The servant had told the

police that he had heard his master call someone in New York. It was accepted that this must have been the

Mullrick laid the newspaper aside. He stared from the window. The day was clear and placid; this, to Harland

Mullrick, was not enjoyable. The world seemed too fresh. Mullrick, whose thoughts frequently centered on

"Pascual!" Mullrick called to his Mexican servant. "Prepare breakfast. Did you arrange for those evening

Mullrick seated himself beside the livingroom table. He did not intend to leave the apartment until after the

Mullrick had assumed, last night, that Cooperdale had been alone when he had called by telephone. The fact

that Lowder had overheard Cooperdale summon a guest to his home was something that required closer

While he waited for breakfast, Mullrick began to drum upon a book that lay on the table. He suddenly

became aware that it was the volume on the Aztec conquest. He opened the heavy book and removed the

folded sheet of paper. Underneath the crossedout names of Roy Selbrig and Burton Blissip, he wrote:

With a nervous laugh, Mullrick slowly crossed out this name. It marked the passing of the third man who

knew the secret location of the lost mines of Durango. Mullrick still held the paper. Then, with a bitter smile

While he gripped the paper with his left hand, Mullrick clenched his right fist. He stared fiercely at the final

name the only one uncrossed then gripped the paper as though about to tear it. At that moment, Pascual

called. Hearing the servant's quick footsteps, Mullrick dropped back in his chair and placidly refolded the

Pascual gave the announcement of breakfast from the doorway of an adjoining room. Mullrick arose. As

Pascual turned, Mullrick dropped the folded paper in the Aztec volume and closed the big book.

The telephone bell tingled while Mullrick was eating breakfast. It was Jerry Herston on the wire. The

"I'm not kidding you, Mullrick," came Herston's worried tone. "This is going to kick up trouble. That fellow

"Don't worry, Jerry. Remember, I was with you last night! I met you after dinner. Let's see what time was

"Call it seven o'clock. Listen, though. If that telephone call Lowder is talking about was to you, it's time you

"Never mind, Jerry," laughed Mullrick. "Give me another call later on in the day. Along toward evening.

A LOOK of anxiety began to appear upon Mullrick's face as the man from Mexico went back to finish his

cup of coffee. Something that Jerry Herston had said annoyed him. It was the reference to the fact that

Mullrick now remembered that Cooperdale had used his name over the telephone. As Mullrick recalled it, the

pronouncement had been made at the finish of the telephone call. This dominating thought became more

"Pascual," he ordered from his bedroom. "Call Senor Herston's hotel. Tell him I would like to speak to him."

The Mexican went to the telephone. He had learned sufficient parrot English to make a call of this sort. He

"It doesn't matter," decided Mullrick. "I'm going out, too. I'll be out a long while, Pascual. I'll call you on the

telephone. If Senor Herston calls or comes in, tell him to wait to hear from me at his hotel."

Glancing from the livingroom window, Mullrick chanced to see a policeman walking by on the other side of

the street. The officer was looking toward the apartment house. Mullrick drew back from the window. He

was nervous. He went to the entry and put on his hat and coat. He departed abruptly.

As he reached the street door, Mullrick regained his composure. He peered out and saw that the policeman

was not in sight. He decided that his apprehensions were at fault. He turned, as though intending to go back to

MORNING waned. Shortly before noon, a steadyfaced man appeared at the Belisarius Arms. It was

Detective Jim Clausey. The sleuth entered the building. He noted Mullrick's name in the lobby. He went up to

As he approached the door of Apartment 4H, Clausey stepped back out of sight. The door opened, and

Clausey caught a flash of the Mexican's face. The detective, however, was not observed by Pascual. Clausey

grinned. He had a hunch that if Harland Mullrick were inside, he might come out; if outside, he might come

The detective had learned Mullrick's address and telephone number through inquiry at the telephone

company. The name was an unusual one: the sight of a Mexican servant convinced Clausey that he was on

the right trail. Clausey still detailed to the hunting of Slugs Raffney, did not have to report at headquarters for

It was his plan to make sure that Mullrick was back in the apartment; then either act or inform Cardona.

When he had left the little town of Kewson, Clausey had placed Lowder in charge of a detective who had

Clausey's vigil proved to be a long one. As hours passed, there was no sign of Mullrick.

There was a reason, had Clausey possessed the keenness to consider it. The first editions of the afternoon

newspapers had made a tremendous story of the Cooperdale murder. They had linked Penang, Egypt, and

Mexico into a wild tale of death by night. The wile of the Orient, the riddle of the pyramids, the secrets of the

The police were on the trail of the man who wore the gray fedora. Marked as a triple murderer, he was

labeled a fiend. Yet gray soft hats still dominated Broadway. The clew, although a fine playup for

Nevertheless, Harland Mullrick, somewhere in Manhattan, had read those screaming reports. He was not

concerned about his gray hat. He was, however, disturbed by the hue and cry which might bring disaster to

As dusk arrived, Harry Vincent took up his station across from the Belisarius Arms. He, like Jim Clasey, was

awaiting Harland Mullrick's return. There had been no watch by day. Burbank had heard Mullrick say he was

Burbank was still listening. The Shadow, moreover, had no present concern. He was awaiting Harland

Mullrick's next move. There was still a fourth man whom Mullrick had upon his list.

Standing by a little restaurant, Harry Vincent saw Jerry Herston enter the apartment house. That did not

require a report. Herston could have but one destination: Mullrick's apartment. Harry understood that

But as Harry watched, he saw another man step from a car parked a short way up the street. He observed a

The fellow looked like a gangster. This was news that must be sent to Burbank. Harry stepped into the

restaurant and quickly phoned the contact agent. Burbank received the report in his quiet fashion.

Harry Vincent stepped from the restaurant. He sensed that trouble might be brewing. He knew that Burbank

would relay his message to The Shadow. The blackgarbed master would soon be on his way to view the

unexpected complications which were about to happen at Harland Mullrick's abode!

JERRY HERSTON rapped at the door of Harland Mullrick's apartment. Pascual opened the door. Herston

It was then that he felt the nudge of a revolver muzzle in the middle of his back. Half raising his hands, the

As Jerry obeyed, Pascual, in the living room, swung quickly to see who had spoken. The Mexican was

reaching for his machete. He stopped as he saw Jim Clausey turning his revolver in his direction.

It was Herston's voice that caused Pascual to raise his arms also. Jerry called to the Mexican, and wiggled his

own hands in indicative fashion. Pascual, realizing that he was covered, also placed himself at Clausey's

Jerry Herston grinned. Despite the fact that Mullrick had been trailed by this detective Jerry recognized

"No," retorted Herston. "But you're a wise guy from headquarters. A new man on the job. Say I'll bet you're

"You'd know me quick enough if you were as wise as you think you are. Ever hear of Jerry Herston? That's

Jim Clausey was puzzled. He had heard of Jerry Herston. The exdetective was well known as a private

investigator. Despite his knowledge of the affairs of racketeers, Herston had a clean slate.

"Just dropped in to see a friend," returned Jerry, in a matteroffact tone. "Say you don't mean to tell me

you're looking for Harland Mullrick. What's the matter is somebody after him? Have you come here to put

"Murder!" Herston laughed. "Say, have you gone loco? Mullrick's the straightest guy on two feet. You can

"Oh yeah?" Clausey was obstinate. "Well, if he's on the level, he wouldn't mind seeing me right now. Where

"How should I know?" snorted Jerry. "Say what are you trying to do. Playing you're a wise old fox? The

"I'm working on my own," retorted Clausey. "I've got the goods on Mullrick. He's going to the jug when I

grab him, and you're not going to stop me. Nor anyone else, either. The credit for this pinch is going to Jim

Clausey. Savvy? I'm waiting here until Mullrick shows up; and I'm calling headquarters in the meantime. You

So saying, Clausey strode to the telephone. He held his gun so that he could cover either Jerry Herston or

Pascual by an easy motion of his wrist. He lifted the receiver and called detective headquarters.

"That you, Cardona?" he questioned. "This is Clausey... Say, I've located the hideout of the guy we're after...

"Hop up here," he continued. "Belisarius Arms... Yes... Apartment 4H... His name is Mullrick Harland

Clausey broke off, staring. A man had entered the apartment. He had stepped between Jerry Herston and

Pascual. Heavy, with glowering face and vicious air, the intruder came as a menacing enemy. A revolver

UP came Clausey's gun. Slugs Raffney had the drop. It would have been the end of Jim Clausey at that

moment, but for unexpected intervention. Jerry Herston, also spotting Slugs Raffney, leaped forward to grab

The impulse showed quick thinking on Jerry's part. In an instant, the exdetective had realized the situation.

The death of Jim Clausey would be no protection for Harland Mullrick. The alibis which Jerry Herston,

Slugs Raffney, enraged by the sight of Jim Clausey, the detective who had not been able to pick up his trail,

had lost all discretion. In that quick instant, Jerry knew that by overcoming Slugs Raffney, he could best

serve Harland Mullrick. It was an effort on Jerry's part to square himself with Jim Clausey.

As Jerry Herston wrestled with Slugs Raffney, the gang leader's gun went off. Raffney cursed as he fought.

Jim Clausey fired spontaneously. That bullet was the beginning of the end. It did not find its mark in Slugs

The exdetective staggered. Slugs Raffney's hand was free. The snarling gang leader fired twice,

pointblank, at Jerry Herston. Down tumbled the man who had tried to thwart Slugs Raffney.

Swinging across the room, Jim Clausey fired at Slugs Raffney, and missed. He paused for more certain aim.

Pascual, scarcely understanding, realized only that Jim Clausey was an enemy. The man had come here to

seize his master. Clausey, first, had shot Jerry Herston. Senor Herston Harland Mullrick's friend.

Springing as he drew his machete, Pascual buried the wicked knife to the hilt in Clausey's back. The detective

staggered. His final shot at Slugs Raffney was futile. Seeing the knife blade deep in his enemy's back, Slugs

On the street, things were strangely quiet. Evidently the noise of the firing had not been plain. Slugs Raffney

piled into his car and growled an order to the man at the wheel. As the automobile a sedan pulled away, a

coupe started in pursuit. Harry Vincent had heard the shots dimly. He was taking up the trail.

A fusillade was the result. Slugs Raffney joined in the outbreak. The coupe swerved, and ran up on the

sidewalk. It stopped against a wall. Harry Vincent had been too prompt in his pursuit; he had, however, used

his intuition when he had seen the gangsters lean from the sedan to fire. The Shadow's agent lay unscathed,

IN Apartment 4H, Jim Clausey was crawling pitifully along the floor. Pascual was watching him, with the

expression of a faithful mastiff that had slain a trespassing beast. The Mexican had done the duty that he

Jerry Herston lay dead. The shots from Slugs Raffney's revolver had ended the exdetective's picturesque

career. Clausey did not seem to see Herston's body. He was looking for his revolver. Pascual had kicked it

The detective had dropped the receiver on the hook at the abrupt finish of his conversation with Joe Cardona.

The movement had been quite automatic; the sudden finish of the talk might well have been regarded as

Clausey wanted to resume that connection. He crawled on, despite the fact that he carried a knife blade in his

The telephone began to ring. Pascual stood motionless. Clausey tried to reach the instrument. He collapsed

and lay coughing. Pascual suddenly sprang to the telephone and raised the receiver. His face gleamed as he

"Do not come here, senor," warned the Mexican, in his jargon of mixed lingo. "Senor Herston he is dead...

A pause. Pascual was listening to hasty instructions over the wire. When the servant replied, his words were

"I shall destroy it, senor," said Pascual. "I shall leave here to meet you afterward. Adios."

The Mexican turned to the large table. He stepped over the huddled body of Jim Clausey. The detective,

unable to reach the telephone, had tried to crawl in the opposite direction. Pascual pounced upon the big

Harland Mullrick had made a most fortunate telephone call. Anxious to learn if Jerry Herston had returned to

the apartment, he had made the connection just in time to give important orders to Pascual. He had told the

As he lifted the huge book, Pascual was momentarily forgetful of Detective Jim Clausey. He did not see the

Stretching forth his right hand, Clausey had managed to regain his lost gun. With a final effort, the sleuth

tried to rise. He reached his knees; then, as he weakened, he made a sudden clutch at Pascual with his left

The scene was a grim one. Pascual, holding the book half open, turned to view Clausey with a malignant

glare. The detective, the knife still protruding from between his shoulders, was staring up toward the Mexican

Clausey had caught hold of Pascual's belt. With a snarl, the servant leaped away. As he saw the detective

wavering with the gun, Pascual raised his arms to hurl the huge book at his antagonist's head.

The same instant, Clausey fired. Weakened though the detective was, he managed to find his mark. A bullet

As the Mexican staggered, Clausey fired again. With a scream, Pascual toppled. The book, hurtling from his

hand, missed Clausey's head, but struck against the detective's shoulder. Clausey's unsteady body sprawled

Gasping, the detective viewed the form of Harland Mullrick's servant. Pascual, dying, was incapable of

motion. Clausey, having finished the man who had stabbed him, gave a nervy grin. His misty eyes saw the

large book that had struck his shoulder. They also observed a folded sheet of paper on the floor.

Prone, Clausey stretched his arms. He picked up the paper and unfolded it. He clutched its edges between his

tightened fists as he tried to read the names he saw upon the paper. A spasm overcame him.

Still clutching the sheet which had fallen from the Aztec volume, Jim Clausey gave a coughing gasp as his

JERRY HERSTON was dead. So was Pascual. Only a few minutes of life remained to Jim Clausey. To all

appearances, the detective was dead also. The room of tragedy was silent. Something swished just within the

The Shadow, his burning eyes upon the scene, was viewing the slaughter. The blackgarbed phantom had

arrived in answer to Burbank's call. The grim events within this room had taken place in a short succession of

With long strides, The Shadow reached Jim Clausey's side. The detective turned his head. He sensed that

The Shadow reached for the sheet between Clausey's hands. The detective's fierce grip did not relax. On the

spreadout paper, however, The Shadow read the list of names. His grim laugh sounded as he saw the one

that was as yet uncrossed: the name of Donald Gershawl. His keen eyes saw the book upon the floor. The

With a sudden sweep, The Shadow rose from the floor. He could hear footsteps in the hall. Other men were

His long paces carried him to the window beside the telephone. The sash moved upward. Out into the

The sash had just descended when Joe Cardona burst into the room. The sleuth's first thought was for his

Blindly, Jim Clausey thought that Cardona was the one who had been here before. He repeated words that he

"Slugs Raffney," was Clausey's dying statement. "He got away. This paper from from the book.

Cardona caught the fluttering paper as the numbed fingers relaxed. Mullrick was the name of the man who

Clausey, like Burton Blissip, had tried to pronounce the name with a final gasp.

Other detectives were in the room. Cardona turned to a steadyfaced man: Detective Sergeant Markham. He

ordered him to take charge of the bodies. Then Cardona studied the paper. His eyes lighted.

Beneath their names was the name of a fourth man. Cardona recognized that name. Donald Gershawl!

Cardona had actually been to Gershawl's penthouse, atop the mammoth Solwick tower. He had gone there

with Police Commissioner Weston, who was a friend of Gershawl's. A financier who possessed great wealth,

Gershawl had established himself in a sanctuary so lofty that it seemed impregnable against any crime.

So Donald Gershawl still remained upon the list! A firm smile rested upon Cardona's lips. Harland Mullrick,

clever though he might be, would have trouble dealing with Donald Gershawl, unless he took the millionaire

Therein lay the danger. Cardona thrust the list into his pocket. He knew that Donald Gershawl must be

warned; that through him, steps must be taken to apprehend Harland Mullrick. Cardona looked toward the

telephone; then changed his mind. He decided to visit Donald Gershawl in person.

"Markham," he said to the detective sergeant, "I've got a job ahead. You are in charge here. Tell Inspector

With this final statement, the star detective strode from Harland Mullrick's apartment, without another glance

On the wall of the apartment house, a huge, batlike form was resting beside the window of the apartment

above Mullrick's. The figure moved; a squdgy sound came as rubber suction cups were detached from the

surface which they gripped. From the outer darkness, The Shadow entered the apartment where Burbank was

A gloved hand picked up Burbank's brief shorthand notes. The eyes of The Shadow read the remarks which

Joe Cardona had made before he left. The Shadow's laugh was a creepy whisper that made even stolid

The order was understood. Burbank knew that his vigil here had ended. He arose to detach his equipment.

Harland Mullrick would not return to his apartment. With the police in charge, a prompt removal of all

apparatus was Burbank's present work. All would go but the microphone behind the radiator in Mullrick's

As Burbank worked, he knew that The Shadow had departed. The lone fighter had other duties to perform.

Harland Mullrick and Donald Gershawl: the two were due to meet. The fourth man on the list was to face a

The Shadow, too, was bound for the spot where death now loomed to complete the schemes of a man who

WHEN Detective Joe Cardona arrived at the huge Solwick Tower, in lower Manhattan, he stopped for a

moment to stare upward toward the summit of the mighty monolith. Far up, at mountainous height above the

street, a tiny pin point of a light denoted the location of Donald Gershawl's penthouse.

Cardona did not enter the main door of the tremendous skyscraper. Instead, he went to a side entrance where

a closed door barred his way. Cardona rang a bell. A grille work opened, and a face appeared. It was that of a

"Detective Cardona," announced the sleuth. "From headquarters. To see Mr. Gershawl. Important."

The wicket closed. A short while later, the door swung open. Cardona entered a squareshaped room. The

door closed. On the wall near the door, the detective saw an interior telephone and a lever which was

evidently used to open the metal door. Directly beyond was the entrance to an elevator. There was a closed

This room had originally been designed as a special hallway where visitors would enter the elevator that went

to the top of the Solwick Tower. Before the completion of the building, however, Donald Gershawl, who had

financed the operation, decided to use the tower as a penthouse, not as a place for sightseers.

Hence, the archway had been closed, and the small side entrance was kept shut. This square room had been

transformed into an anteroom six hundred feet below the apartment which it served!

This was one of the unique arrangements which Commissioner Ralph Weston had pointed out when he had

The swish of a descending elevator came from between the doors. The car had struck the air cushion. The

doors opened, and the watchman ushered Cardona into the elevator. A uniformed operator a husky fellow

At the end of the ride, Cardona stepped off the elevator into a waiting room where an attendant was seated.

This man inquired Cardona's name; hearing it, he opened a massive door and ushered the detective into the

DONALD GERSHAWL termed this place a penthouse. Actually, it was an observation floor which had been

made into an apartment. A little beyond the center hall was the huge cylinder that indicated a spiral stairway

leading to the open observation tower above. All the windows of the penthouse opened on a balcony which

The attendant rapped on a door beside the big cylinder. In response to an order from within, he opened the

Joe Cardona walked into a sumptuous living room. He found Donald Gershawl awaiting him.

The financier was a tall, wellbuilt man of fiftyodd years. His square jaw was a token of the determination

which had gained him his high position of wealth. His face was friendly and frank; his gray hair gave him a

"Good evening," greeted Gershawl. "I am glad to see you again, Detective Cardona. What brings you here?

"No," returned Cardona, in a serious tone. "I haven't seen the commissioner yet, Mr. Gershawl. I wanted to

Gershawl stopped abruptly as he was receiving a box of cigars which a servant had brought him.

"To warn me?" he questioned, with a puzzled look. "Against what? Against whom? Is there a conspiracy?"

"Murder?" Gershawl's tone became composed, though his face was grave. "Be seated, Mr. Cardona. Have

one of these Coronas" he extended the box of cigars as Cardona sat down "and tell me of this matter.

"Yes." Cardona brought the list from his pocket. "Look at this, Mr. Gershawl. Maybe it will explain itself."

Donald Gershawl stared at his own name. Then he read the ones which were crossed out. His eyebrows

"Certainly," responded Gershawl. "I have been reading the newspapers quite closely. These three were

"Of the man with the gray fedora," commented Gershawl, with a doubtful smile. "A rather vague description

for so formidable an enemy. Tell me, Mr. Cardona, where did you find this list?"

"In the apartment of a man named Harland Mullrick," announced Cardona. "It was clutched by the hand of a

dead detective. He gasped the name of Slugs Raffney, a murderer for whom we are looking. Slugs Raffney,

though, is but a tool in the hands of the chief killer. Harland Mullrick is the man we are after."

"Yes. He had a Mexican servant, who was dead in the apartment. Have you ever heard of him, Mr.

"I have," responded the millionaire, with a short laugh. "His victims, though, were unknown to me until I

read their names in the newspapers. I have something in common with them, however. I know much about

"Yes. I have information which I acquired only a short while ago as lately, perhaps, as the time when you

found this list. I have received a telephone call from a man who calls himself Harland Mullrick."

"More than that. I have granted him an interview. I am expecting him at any minute. I thought when your call

"Such," said the millionaire quietly, "appears to be his intention. But I hold no apprehensions. I have received

"That would be unfortunate," interposed Gershawl. "Unless, however, this murderer saw you enter and

recognized you, I do not think that he will neglect the appointment. He is very anxious to see me. He wants to

"So that's his game," mused Cardona. "You're right, Mr. Gershawl. We can trap this scoundrel, unless "

"Unless he has a gang with him. Slugs Raffney and some of the mob that Raffney still has."

"That's right," agreed Gershawl. "Those fellows were supposed to have killed Roy Selbrig, weren't they? But

"No question about it," returned Gershawl, in a decided tone. "My anteroom, below, is protected against

intruders. The watchman is too much of an obstacle. Then there is the elevator operator; the servant outside. I

"I see Mullrick's game," agreed the detective. "He is foxy. He has tricked you into letting him in here as a

"And he will think he has me unawares," injected Gershawl. "However, I can take care of that. Suppose, Mr.

Cardona, that you station yourself behind that farther curtain. Be ready for my call. I shall also post my

"Yes. That would be simpler. I have been wondering, though, just what his game may be "

"That's right!" blurted Cardona. "Say if you can get him to talk a bit, we may find out why he killed those

A RAP on the door came as an interruption. Gershawl called for the person to enter. The servant from outside

"Mr. Harland Mullrick is in the anteroom, sir," he said. "Are you ready for him to come up by elevator?"

Cardona was about to object. Gershawl, however, explained the reason for the quick summons.

"He may suspect if I keep him waiting," he said. "I had hoped we would have time to call my friend, the

police commissioner. It is too late now. Get behind the curtain while I instruct my inside servants to be

Gershawl went out of the door. He returned in less than two minutes. He smiled approvingly as he noted that

Cardona was well concealed behind the curtain. Gershawl sat down and puffed on his cigar. A minute later,

The door opened. In stepped a tall, stoopshouldered man. His face bore the bronzed color of the tropics. It

was Harland Mullrick. The visitor's head turned right and left, with quick, suspicious glance.

Donald Gershawl arose to shake hands with his guest. He pointed to a chair. Mullrick stepped beyond it to

place his coat and hat, which he was carrying, upon a small stand. It was then that Joe Cardona, behind the

Mullrick's actions; his appearance; his stooped shoulders: these were evidences that he was the man Cardona

wanted. The final touch, however, lay in the hat that rested upon the stand. It was spotless, unusually light in

The hat was a gray fedora. Joe Cardona's fingers tightened on the butt of his revolver.

"No, thanks," returned Harland Mullrick, suddenly withdrawing his hand after starting to reach toward the

box. "I've a lot of important business on my mind. I want to talk with you about it, Mr. Gershawl."

"Business," smiled the financier, "invariably interests me. To what form of business do you refer."

"To Mexico," declared Mullrick abruptly. "To the lost mines of Durango. I'm dealing straight with you, Mr.

Gershawl. I hold an option that depends upon the locating of the mines. I believe that you know exactly

"It has been long since I was in Durango," remarked Gershawl, in a reminiscent tone. "Not since the days of

"The mines have not been traceable," returned Mullrick, "since followers of Pancho Villa slaughtered the

guards who had remained on watch after Porfirio Diaz was ousted from the Mexican presidency."

"Probably so," mused Gershawl. "Nevertheless" his voice assumed a significant tone "I am surprised that

you should come to me in preference to others who might know more regarding Mexico. Particularly if you

expect to buy information cheaply. I am a man of considerable wealth, Mr. Mullrick. I have no great interest

in speculative enterprises. Are there no other persons whom you might see regarding this matter?"

"I think," retorted Mullrick, "that you can answer that question as readily as I. Let us forget the men who have

died. My proposition is simply this: You, alone, can give me the final information that I require. You, alone,

Gershawl shrugged his shoulders. He acted as though he could not understand what Mullrick meant. He

"I am afraid, Mr. Mullrick," he decided, "that your ideas are very vague. Whatever I may know about Mexico

particularly the state of Durango can be of no interest to you. Suppose we terminate this interview."

With a wave of his hand, the financier indicated the hat and coat that were lying on the stand. Harland

Mullrick glared sullenly. Finally, he turned and picked up his garments. He put on his coat; then placed his

MULLRICK was but a few yards from the curtain. His back was toward that spot. Joe Cardona, peering

forth, studied Mullrick's form, which was turned slightly in his direction. The detective was positive that this

was the man who had been seen on the three occasions where sudden death had struck. Cardona drew his

Mullrick was glowering at Gershawl. Suddenly, he burst forth in a storm of bitter words.

"You know about those Durango mines!" he cried. "You are stalling me, because you want my plans to fail.

You think that you can pick up where I leave off. I've tried to deal fairly with you before, Gershawl. I've

Mullrick's right hand was away from Gershawl's view. It dropped to the pocket of the overcoat. With a quick

Cardona saw the flash of the weapon. Like a shot, the detective sprang forward. Before Mullrick could turn,

Cardona had planted the muzzle of his own revolver in the middle of the man's back.

Mullrick's hand came from his pocket, the revolver slipping from his fingers. Then, apparently frantic,

Mullrick swung upon his adversary and boldly tried to throw Cardona to the floor.

The detective did not fire. He battled grimly as Mullrick's hands clutched at his throat. Breaking loose with

The stroke was a glancing one. It filled its purpose, nevertheless. Harland Mullrick staggered, sprawled flat,

and rolled over on the floor. His own revolver flew from his pocket and clattered against a chair. As the man

Two servants had arrived at Gershawl's call. They were hurrying forward to help Cardona. The detective

Cardona rolled the fellow over on his back. He stood looking at Mullrick's face. He reached down and picked

"No trouble now," remarked Cardona, as he picked up Mullrick's revolver. "I'll call up headquarters and get

"Suppose," suggested Gershawl, with a pleased smile, "that I call the police commissioner and tell him what

has happened. That will give you an opportunity to speak with him, and gain the credit that you deserve."

Donald Gershawl had struck a real accord with Joe Cardona. The detective liked to gain Commissioner

Weston's commendation. This telephoned communication would prove much better than an ordinary report

GERSHAWL picked up a telephone. He called the commissioner's number. Carefully, briefly, he explained

exactly what had happened. His last remark was particularly suitable to Cardona.

"Your headquarters man," concluded Gershawl, "is watching his prisoner now. The prisoner is only partly

Holding his gun with his right hand, Cardona took the desk telephone in his left. He recognized the voice of

Commissioner Ralph Weston. In return, he corroborated all that Donald Gershawl had said.

"We've got the murderer," asserted Cardona. "As soon as the squad gets over from headquarters, we'll take

him down there. Say Mr. Gershawl deserves plenty of credit. He just stood there and waited while this

Cardona clicked the hook. While he was waiting for the connection to detective headquarters, he made a

"Better call the watchman," he said. "Maybe this fellow's pals are outside, waiting for him to show up. Slugs

"The watchman is all right," returned Gershawl. "No one can get in while he is here. He will let me know

"O.K.," agreed Cardona. "I'm telling the squad to surround this building and pick up anyone that looks

DONALD GERSHAWL'S confidence in the watchman's security would have been less sure had the

millionaire been able to see to the anteroom below. While Gershawl and Cardona were talking in the

penthouse, the watchman, six hundred feet beneath, was answering a ring at the metal door.

When he opened the wicket, the watchman found himself staring into the looming muzzle of an automatic.

Above the threatening gun were two burning eyes. From invisible lips came the hissed command:

Ordinarily, the watchman would have leaped back and slammed the wicket. The stern command, however,

rendered him helpless. He had heard the sinister sound of The Shadow's voice. Before the watchman could

Backing away, with hands raised, the watchman saw the gun muzzle turn to cover him. He knew that death

would be imminent should he attempt to act against the injunction. Reaching the side wall, he pulled the lever

The moving barrier, swinging inward, gave the watchman an opportunity. The big fellow was covered for the

moment; quickly, he whipped a revolver from his pocket and leaped forward to meet the enemy. His finger

Like a solid chunk of blackness issuing from the folds of night, The Shadow was there to met his adversary.

His sweeping left arm sent the revolver flying from the watchman's grasp. His right hand, swinging its

As the big man sank to the floor, The Shadow pressed the lever that closed the metal door. A spectral laugh

echoed through the vaulted anteroom. Its hollow, metallic reverberations persisted while The Shadow crossed

Air swished from the door of the shaft. The barriers slid apart. The elevator operator, armed with a revolver,

was in readiness. The unexpected summons had placed him on his guard. The preparation, however, was to

no avail. Appearing with sudden unexpectedness, The Shadow fell upon the operator at the door of the

The Shadow swiftly bound the watchman, using the fellow's belt to hold his hands and feet together in a

hopeless position, from which he could not escape. The man was still groggy. He had not even seen the

With the operator still lying on the floor of the elevator, The Shadow closed the door and started the

There, with a soft laugh that sounded only within the metal walls of the elevator, The Shadow raised the inert

form of the stalwart operator. Propping the man beside the lever that drove the car, The Shadow stood behind

THE husky who guarded the waiting room was standing directly in front of the doors. He was holding a

revolver. He, too, had suspected that something might be wrong. As the doors opened, all that this man saw

was the figure of the operator. The guard lowered his gun. Instantly, the form of the operator toppled forward.

From behind the man's body leaped a mass of blackness. Spectral to behold, but solid as rock in form, The

He caught the fellow off guard. Like the two before him, this man went down without realizing what had

The Shadow's next operation was a swift one. He stepped aboard the elevator; without closing the doors, he

Climbing out upon the floor, he picked up theoperator and thrust the man's body atop the elevator. He

performed the same action with the stunned guard. Dropping down into the car, he raised it to a level with the

Trapped between the top of the elevator and the ceiling of the shaft, the two men could not possibly escape.

The Shadow had lost no further time by waiting to bind them. Automatics appeared in his black fists as he

The Shadow reached the door of Donald Gershawl's living room. One automatic went beneath his cloak. His

free hand turned the knob and softly opened the door a full inch inward. With his automatic wedged against

Swiftly, like a messenger from another world, The Shadow had conquered the guardians of Donald

Gershawl's lofty abode. A creature of the night, unseen, unheard, he was here to watch what next might

As he watched, The Shadow, with his huge automatic ready, held all before him at his mercy!

DONALD GERSHAWL and Joe Cardona were standing in the center of the living room. Before them,

propped in a chair, was Harland Mullrick. The prisoner was wearily lifting his head. He stared at the men

Two servants, husky, hardfaced fellows, were standing close behind Mullrick's chair. They were in

readiness to seize the man. Cardona waved them back in a motion of his revolver.

Mullrick stared blankly. He looked toward Donald Gershawl. The financier's face became stern. He motioned

"Let me talk to him," he suggested. "Mullrick, we know you for a murderer. You have proven your guilt

tonight. You have given away your game. You bluffed the Mexican government into an option to develop

"You were afraid that someone would spoil your illegal game. You came here to New York to look up the

men who stood in your path. You found Roy Selbrig. You rode with him in a taxicab, where, at your signal,

"You brought Burton Blissip to New York. In his room at the Hotel Goliath, you planted a poisoned pin

among ordinary ones. When he placed his finger upon the pin that indicated the city of Guadalajara, he

"Anonymously, you sent a peculiar cane called a Penang lawyer to Sidney Cooperdale. You called at his

home. You released a species of snake known as the naja haje a deadly serpent that was within the cane.

"You came here tonight, ready to murder me. I was too well guarded. My very position saved me from your

strategy. You intended to shoot me; then to fight your way out. I was the last of your four intended victims.

Donald Gershawl stared directly at Harland Mullrick, watching for the man's reaction. Mullrick slumped back

in his chair. Gershawl smiled. The man seemed incapable of denial, now that his deeds had been set forth.

Mullrick weakly rubbed his head. He stared from Gershawl to Cardona; then back to Gershawl. A glimmer of

"Where's Jerry" his voice broke "Jerry Herston? He knows where I was those nights. He can prove my

A SUDDEN recollection dawned in Mullrick's mind. The call that he had made to Pascual! He remembered

A laugh came from Donald Gershawl, as the financier voiced the thought that was in Mullrick's mind.

"Your friend," said Gershawl, in a sarcastic tone, "is dead. Do not look for alibis from Jerry Herston."

"Come on, Mullrick," growled Cardona. "It's no use. We've got you. Let's hear you talk."

Mullrick sat bolt upright. His senses seemed to return with a jolt. He looked at the swarthy face of Joe

"All right," asserted Mullrick. "I'll begin with a murder you never heard about. Luis Santo, investigator from

Cardona, seeing that Mullrick was helpless with the servants standing by, pocketed his revolver and pulled

"Luis Santo was my investigator," declared Mullrick boldly. "He went aboard the El Salvador to return to

Mexico. I sent Jerry Herston down there to see that he sailed. I was at the dock, watching Herston. The next

day, Herston told me that he had found Santo dead in his stateroom. The body must have been pitched

Cardona was making notes. Mullrick paused to give the detective time, then resumed his statement.

"Santo gave me the list of four men," said Mullrick. "All knew what I wanted; the location of the lost mines

in Durango. I intended to meet these men one by one; to offer them, in order, a fair percentage of the profits

for their information. Santo said he had not talked with any of the four; that they did not know one another.

"But when Santo was murdered, I knew the truth. Either he had sold out to one of those men, and was killed

because he might later confess to me; or else one of the four had gotten wise to his game, and decided to get

"At any rate, I saw I was next. I went ahead with my plan, but I was cautious. I wrote to Roy Selbrig. When I

heard from him, he wanted me to meet him in a taxicab. I shied off. I didn't keep the appointment. That night,

"Then I knew more about the game. Someone was after me one of those four out to get the others, also.

When I didn't show up, this other person took my place. He gave the signal for Selbrig's death by simply

"Selbrig was dead. I decided to play cagey. I made an appointment with Burton Blissip. I was cautious about

it. I wanted to see Blissip. I intended to go to his hotel late in the evening. Instead, this same murderer got

"I was mighty careful when I communicated with Sidney Cooperdale. He wanted me to come out to his

home; I decided to wait a day or two. The murderer behind this mess knew that I would stall. He went out

"I didn't want those innocent men to die. But when they were dead, I knew who was responsible. There was

only one left. I resolved to meet him face to face. I did; tonight. There he stands Donald Gershawl the

man who impersonated me. I know your game now, Gershawl. To have me arrested as a murderer. Only to

Donald Gershawl's smile was cold. The vehemence of Harland Mullrick's accusation had made Joe Cardona

"Mullrick," said Gershawl firmly, "I feel sorry for so pitiable a wretch as you. Men of your sort cause trouble

for honest persons like myself. Fortunately, your story will fall of its own weight.

"Your alibi maker is dead. That places the burden squarely on you. In a wild fit of hopelessness, you decide

that you can accuse me of murdering Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale. Since alibis are apparently necessary,

"On two of the evenings when murder fell, I was with Police Commissioner Ralph Weston: once at his home;

once here. On the third, I was guest speaker at the Amalgamated Merchants' banquet. Those facts settle your

"I hope," declared Gershawl, "that you have set down all these statements, Mr. Cardona."

"Then," resumed Gershawl, "since I have clarified the situation, I may add a bit of analysis that will prove

"IT is obvious that three men Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale were murdered by the design of one man.

He was the man in the taxicab; the man who visited the Hotel Goliath; the man who went to Cooperdale's

"Mullrick, in attempting to accuse me, only renders his situation more hopeless. He had reason to murder

these three men. He bases his alibis on the testimony of Jerry Herston, who is now dead. There is only one

"To produce," declared Gershawl, "a person who will admit that he was the one who wore the gray fedora; a

person who can prove that fact; one who is willing to face the charge of murder in Mullrick's own place!"

Gershawl's voice was triumphant. He stared with a smile upon his lips. Then, in a firm tone, he added:

"Mullrick can never perform the task required of him. He, himself, is the murderer. He dares not admit that

he was present at the deaths of Selbrig, Blissip, and Cooperdale. There is no living being who would make

the admission in Mullrick's place. No one will ever admit himself to be the person who wore the gray

As Gershawl's tones ended, a sudden hush fell upon the gathered throng. It was like the hush of strange

doom. Upon it came the eerie tones of a sinister, mocking laugh that broke like a wave of mighty mockery.

All eyes turned toward the doorway. Donald Gershawl stood transfixed, in the middle of a turn. Joe Cardona

sat as rigid as a statue. Harland Mullrick stared with blurred eyes. The two servants who guarded him did not

There, within the open portal, stood a terrifying form in black. A cloak of sable hue enshrouded the visitant's

body. The upturned collar of the cloak; the broad brim of a black slouch hat; these hid all save a pair of fiery

eyes that flashed with commanding light. Blackgloved fists held huge automatics, which covered every man

Joe Cardona was the only one who recognized the weird master the instant that he saw him. Cardona had

seen The Shadow before, but never so amazingly revealed as this. From the detective's gasping lips came the

IT was a full minute before The Shadow spoke. During that period of tenseness, every witness of the strange

being's presence trembled. Backed by his powerful weapons, The Shadow constituted a weird figure that

When words came from The Shadow's hidden lips, they were the hissing throbs of a sinister sneer a voice

so sepulchral that it added to the eerie presence and brought new shudders to all who heard it.

"It has been said," whispered The Shadow, in his sardonic tone, "that no living being would dare admit

himself to be the one who concerned himself with the deaths of Roy Selbrig, Burton Blissip, and Sidney

The names were pronounced with a scornful touch that foretold an amazing revelation yet to come.

"There is one who enjoyed the privilege," resumed The Shadow in a mocking voice, "of ensnaring those three

Joe Cardona's notebook dropped from his hand. The detective gazed in dumbfounded wonder. The Shadow

"My statements," he hissed, "need not go on record. They stand upon their own truth. I am the one whom you

seek; but I am not the murderer of the three whom you call victims. They died from their own vile schemes!"

Joe Cardona waited tensely for the next words. Harland Mullrick stared in amazement. Donald Gershawl's

"Four men," pronounced The Shadow, "were banded to deal death. Through their gangster minion Slugs

Raffney they disposed of Luis Santo. He was a man who had betrayed a trust. Luis Santo sold out to the

The Shadow paused. Instead of words, he emitted a sardonic laugh which turned to a gibing burst of

"Roy Selbrig was the first appointed," sneered The Shadow. "He was to lead Harland Mullrick to his doom. It

"He gave me a doped cigarette" The Shadow's voice turned to a momentary laugh "which I returned to

him without his knowledge. It was I who left that cab. Slugs Raffney was there to slay the man who

remained. Thus" The Shadow's tone denoted scorn "did Roy Selbrig, potential murderer, die!"

DONALD GERSHAWL'S face was ashen. His very countenance proved the truth of The Shadow's words, so

Again, The Shadow spoke. His voice held a peculiar echo that made its sound a weird monotone, unlike the

"Burton Blissip was the second appointed," resumed The Shadow. "He had a map of Mexico. He had pins for

it. It was I disguised as Mullrick who visited him at his hotel. A certain pin was resting upon the spot

marked Metatitos. I removed it unwatched by Blissip to the point designated Guadalajara. Blissip pressed

that pin head of his own volition. Thus" The Shadow paused "did Burton Blissip, potential murderer,

Joe Cardona was as rigid and expressionless as any judge who ever held court. Harland Mullrick was staring

"Sidney Cooperdale," revealed The Shadow, "was the third appointed. He sent himself a cane a Penang

lawyer. It contained a snake a naja haje. His servant placed it in his curio room. Cooperdale removed the

"It was I disguised as Mullrick who arrived. I entered the door on the right not the door on the left. I

opened the door between the bedroom and the curio room. The snake hissed. I departed by the same way that

"Sidney Cooperdale returned. He entered his bedroom. The snake was waiting. Thus" again the pause

The Shadow's eyes were burning toward Donald Gershawl. The financier was slumping; yet under that

"There is a fourth," accused The Shadow, "who was selfappointed. He felt satisfaction when the others died.

That left him alone to gain the wealth that the secret of the lost mines would bring.

"Though he knew Harland Mullrick to be innocent for the others were the ones who plotted murder he

has sought to lay the crime on that one man. He has failed. It is not necessary to pronounce his name."

The truth of The Shadow's words was evident. Donald Gershawl was staggering. Backward, like a man in a

daze, the guilty financier toppled toward the wall. His arms were outstretched. His fingers writhed feverishly

against the paneling of the room. His eyes were staring straight ahead; from the side wall where he stood

FREED from The Shadow's gaze, Gershawl looked appealingly toward Joe Cardona. He saw that the

detective was convinced of his guilt. He saw Harland Mullrick's wildeyed gaze. He saw his servants, cowed

"The proof!" screamed Gershawl, turning toward The Shadow. "The proof! Prove that your statements are not

His voice broke as he heard The Shadow's laugh. The Shadow's right hand passed beneath the black cloak.

The left, with its single automatic, remained as a sufficient threat. The right hand reappeared. It carried a

"The proof," sneered The Shadow, "is not for you, Donald Gershawl. It is for the man who was to be the

victim of your evil plotting whose wealth was to be shared by you and those who have died by their own

devices. That Harland Mullrick may have the assurance of my words, I, The Shadow, present this proof!"

The right hand made a sweep. The shapeless object transformed itself into a duplicate of Mullrick's gray

fedora. Up came the gloved hand. The Shadow's black hat dropped backward between his shoulders and the

Not even a gasp greeted the startling transformation. Unconsciously, heads moved. Joe Cardona, Donald

Gershawl the startled servants as well stared from The Shadow to Harland Mullrick, who remained

They were viewing two faces that were the same! Harland Mullrick's tanned countenance, with its shrewd,

pointed features. This was the face that murderous men had seen. Those who had sought Harland Mullrick's

death had been completely deceived by The Shadow's complete mastery of disguise!

The Shadow's right hand reached behind his head. The gray fedora tipped forward above his madeup

features. The discarded headpiece floated to the floor as the black slouch hat replaced it on The Shadow's

head. The collar of the cloak turned upward as gloved fingers pressed it. Only burning eyes remained in view

The Shadow's right hand moved toward the folds of the black cloak. That action brought a return move from

Encouraged by having seen a face which at least seemed human, fearing the consequences that were to follow

the revelation of his evil plots, Gershawl grasped the edge of a wall panel with his fingerspread right hand.

A solid door shot upward to show the spiral stairway that led to the tower above. Out from the hiding place

sprang a fierce ruffian who wielded a huge revolver. At his heels were two others of his ilk.

Slugs Raffney, the man who had dealt death at Donald Gershawl's order, had been summoned to the

ONE against six; for the two servants, like the others, were men of Raffney's gang. Harland Mullrick was

unarmed. Joe Cardona was sent sprawling as the servant nearest him leaped forward upon him.

The spell was broken; guns were flashing in the hands of the pretended servants. Donald Gershawl was

The swiftness of the attack meant nothing to The Shadow. His second gun was swinging on its outward

course at the instant when Donald Gershawl released the door. Slugs Raffney and his pair of mobsmen were

face to face with The Shadow. The mighty automatics boomed before a single mobsman could pull a trigger.

Those automatics pumped their lead into a closemassed trio. As Donald Gershawl, flourishing his

automatic, leaped behind the three mobsmen, his summoned aids were already falling to the floor.

Two collapsed without a single shout. Slugs Raffney went down firing. His aim, broken by the shattering

Ignoring Raffney and his dying shots, The Shadow swerved to meet the transformed servants. As one man

fired, The Shadow's body was swinging toward the wall. The bullet clipped the brim of the slouch hat. A

triumphant laugh sounded with the boom of The Shadow's lefthand automatic. The fake servant slumped to

Shots came from the entrance to the upper tower. Donald Gershawl had gained the shelter of the spiral

stairway. He had aimed at Harland Mullrick, but the rescued man was already diving for the shelter of a huge

Gershawl's aim diverted. Out of The Shadow's range of fire, he was shooting at Joe Cardona, rising from the

floor. The detective was fumbling for his revolver. He stumbled as a bullet nicked his left shoulder.

Diagonally from the wall, just beyond the path of the shot which Donald Gershawl had delivered at Joe

Cardona, was the second servant, aiming for The Shadow. A taunt resounded as the man fired and barely

missed the wavering form in black. Instinctively, the servant moved forward, pressing the trigger as he came.

It was The Shadow's ruse that succeeded. Dropping as the man fired, The Shadow heard the bullet pung the

wall above his head. He fired in return. The fake servant twisted in agony, dropping upon one hand and knee.

A second bullet and a third crashed into his contorted body. They did not come from The Shadow's

The Shadow had staggered the servant directly in the path of Gershawl's aim. Bullets that would certainly

have reached Cardona, found mark in the body of Gershawl's own henchman. Cardona, his life saved by The

THE murderous millionaire started up the stairway, to escape the detective's fire. Flinging his automatics to

the floor, The Shadow brought another brace of .45s from beneath his cloak. With vengeful stride, he swept

Shots echoed with terrific thunder from the steel cylinder that encased the stairway. Gershawl, the thud of

The Shadow's bullets striking the metal steps about him, was fleeing to the open tower above.

Cardona, blood streaming from his wounded shoulder, had dropped to the floor. Harland Mullrick hurried

forward to aid the sleuth who had now become his friend. Echoing shots from the staircase still persisted.

High on the open tower, crouched against the steelrailed parapet, Donald Gershawl was waiting for The

Shadow. The plotter had gained his desired spot of safety. If he could slay his blackclad adversary, he still

had a chance to further his evil schemes. He could then attack Cardona and Mullrick, in the penthouse below.

Silence from the head of the staircase. Had The Shadow given up the chase? Or was he lurking, awaiting

It was pitchblack in this spot, more than six hundred feet above Manhattan. The night had clouded; a half

Reaching in his pocket, Gershawl produced a flashlight. He had gotten it for Slugs Raffney when he had

stowed the gang leader on the stairway, at the time of Joe Cardona's arrival. Raffney had not wanted it.

The press of the button threw a gleam of light upon the staircase. It revealed the crouched, advancing form of

As the gun roared, a vicious thrust sent Gershawl's hand upward. The Shadow had sprung. His automatics

clattered as he caught the plotter in his grasp. His guns unaimed, The Shadow had made this leap for

Gershawl's arm. A moving shape of blackness, he blotted out the light which Gershawl still clutched.

With terrific force, Gershawl swung his right arm, seeking to strike The Shadow's head with the gun. As

Gershawl struck, The Shadow sent him twisting sidewise in the air. The plotter's head struck an unseen post

The stunning blow was Gershawl's doom. But for the impact, the financier would have managed to grasp the

parapet as he struck it, on his side. Instead of stopping, his body, hurled with The Shadow's powerful might,

Gershawl's automatic clattered within the rail. The flashlight sailed outward. After it plunged Gershawl's

form. With the gleaming light marking his downward voyage to death, Gershawl, sprawling in the heavy

THE SHADOW was standing by the parapet. His keen eyes marked the course of Gershawl's fall. A dark

object, tiny when viewed from the height, formed a puny blot upon the sidewalk far below. A tiny spark the

The Shadow descended the spiral staircase. Totally unseen by Harland Mullrick, who had aided Joe Cardona

to the window for fresh air, the master fighter passed through the room where the bodies of mobsters lay.

He took the elevator down the shaft. The recovered henchmen who had failed to serve Donald Gershawl

clung screaming as they descended atop the car. The Shadow left them in their vertical prison, with six

The Shadow pressed the lever of the massive metal door. The barrier opened. The Shadow glided forth into

Cries came from the street. Detectives who had gathered around Donald Gershawl's body turned to hurry to

the entrance of the Solwick Tower when they saw the light of the opened anteroom.

They had not, however, seen The Shadow. He had stepped into darkness before the headquarters men had

There were only two who could tell of The Shadow's presence here: Joe Cardona and Harland Mullrick.

Others were dead; the guardians of Gershawl's tower, though they still lived, had no knowledge of the

Joe Cardona could clear Harland Mullrick. The Shadow knew what the star detective would say: that some

unknown person had impersonated Harland Mullrick. The presence of Slugs Raffney and his dead mobsters

would incriminate Donald Gershawl as a master of crime. The captured henchmen would squeal.

The Shadow's part would not be revealed. Joe Cardona would not mention it in his report. Harland Mullrick

would leave for Mexico, there to locate the lost mines of Durango, without molestation.

Out of the past, The Shadow could presage the future. As token of his hidden thoughts, his laugh resounded

from the darkness of a narrow street three blocks distant from the Solwick Tower.

As burning eyes peered upward toward the tiny glow of the penthouse lights, the whistling wind seemed to

catch the tones of the strident mockery and carry it quickly upward in the rising gale.

The laugh of The Shadow! It was the triumphant cry of invisible lips, Justice had triumphed through The

Shadow's aid. As Harland Mullrick, The Shadow had saved Harland Mullrick. Declaring himself as the one

marked as a murderer, The Shadow had proven in what direction the murder really lay.

Such was the paradox of The Shadow's justice. Through strange and devious measures had The Shadow

gained the final victory. Long before crime was begun, The Shadow, through his agents, through his sources

of information, knew of what was planned. And, in meting out the justice of The Shadow, this strange being

of the night had allowed each insidious criminal to cause his own dire end, as it was planned for another.

Then, when the moment came to prove the accused innocent, he pointed out the master villain behind it all.